This page has been validated.
POEMS OF EMILY BRONTË
323
LXVI
SONG
O between distress and pleasure
Fond affection cannot be!
Wretched hearts in vain would treasure
Friendship's joys when others flee.
Well I know thine eye would never
Smile when mine grieved willingly;
Yet I know thine eye for ever
Could not weep in sympathy.
Let us part; the time is over
When I thought and felt like thee;
I will be an ocean rover,
I will sail the desert sea.
Isles there are beyond its billow,
Lands where woe may wander free;
And beloved, thy midnight pillow
Will be soft unwatched by me.
Not on each returning morrow,
When thy heart bounds ardently,
Needst thou then dissemble sorrow,
Marking my despondency.