Go then, if she, whose shade thou art, <br />No more will let thee soothe my pain; <br />Yet, tell her, it has cost this heart <br />Some pangs, to give thee back again. <br /> <br />Tell her, the smile was not so dear, <br />With which she made the semblance mine, <br />As bitter is the burning tear, <br />With which I now the gift resign. <br /> <br />Yet go -- and could she still restore, <br />As some exchange for taking thee. <br />The tranquil look which first I wore, <br />When her eyes found me calm and free; <br /> <br />Could she give back the careless flow, <br />The spirit that my heart then knew -- <br />Yet, no, 'tis vain -- go, picture, go -- <br />Smile at me once, and then -- adieu!<br /><br />Thomas Moore<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/her-picture/
