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Poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox


Lean down, and kiss me, O my love, my own;
   The day is near when thy fond heart will miss me;
And oТer my low green bed, with bitter moan,
   Thou wilt lean down, but cannot clasp or kiss me.

How strange it is, that I, so loving thee,
   And knowing we must part, perchance to-morrow,
Do comfort find, thinking how great will be
   Thy lonely desolation, and thy sorrow.

And stranger--sadder, O mine own other part,
   That I should grudge thee some surcease of weeping;
Why do I not rejoice, that in thy heart,
   Sweet love will bloom again when I am sleeping?

Nay, make no promise. I would place no bar
   Upon thy future, even wouldst thou let me.
Thou hast, thou dost, well love me, like a man:
   And, like a man, in time thou wilt forget me.

Why should I care, so near the Infinite--
   Why should I care, that thou wilt cease to miss me?
O God! these earthly ties are knit so tight--
   Quick, quick, lean lower, O my love, and kiss me!

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Ella Wheeler Wilcox's other poems:
  1. The Birth of the Opal
  2. At Eleusis
  3. But a Dream
  4. The Call (All wantonly in hours of joy)
  5. The Awakening (I love the tropics, where sun and rain)

Poems of the other poets with the same name:

  • William Yeats Parting ("Dear, I must be gone")
  • Charlotte BrontЄ Parting ("THERE'S no use in weeping")
  • Arthur Clough Parting ("O tell me, friends, while yet we part")
  • Menella Smedley Parting ("Not by thy side, but in thy heart")

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