Since now the hour is come at last, <br />When you must quit your anxious lover; <br />Since now our dream of bliss is past, <br />One pang, my girl, and all is over. <br /> <br />Alas! that pang will be severe, <br />Which bids us part to meet no more; <br />Which tears me far from one so dear, <br />Departing for a distant shore. <br /> <br />Well! we have pass'd some happy hours, <br />And joy will mingle with our tears; <br />When thinking on these ancient towers, <br />We shelter of our infant years; <br /> <br />Where from this Gothic casement's height, <br />We view's the lake, the park, the dell, <br />And still, though tears obstruct our sight, <br />We lingering look a last farewell, <br /> <br />O'er fields through which we used to run, <br />And spend the hours in childish play; <br />O'er shades where, when our race was done, <br />Reposing on my breast you lay; <br /> <br />Whilst I, admiring, too remiss, <br />Forgot to scare the hovering flies, <br />Yet envied every fly the kiss <br />It dared to give your slumbering eyes: <br /> <br />See still the little painted bark, <br />In which I row'd you o'er the lake; <br />See there, high waving o'er the park, <br />The elm I clamber'd for your sake. <br /> <br />These times are past — our joys are gone, <br />You leave me, leave this happy vale; <br />These scenes I must retrace alone: <br />Without thee what will they avail? <br /> <br />Who can conceive, who has not proved, <br />The anguish of a last embrace? <br />When, torn from all you fondly loved, <br />You bid a long adieu to peace. <br /> <br />This is the deepest of our woes, <br />For this these tears our cheeks bedew; <br />This is of love the final close, <br />Oh, God! the fondest, last adieu!<br /><br />George Gordon Byron<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-emma-4/
