WITHDRAW not yet those lips and fingers Whose touch to mine is rapture's spell; Life's joy for us a moment lingers, And death seems in the word -- Farewell The hour that bids us part and go, It sounds not yet, -- oh! no, no, no! Time, whilst I gaze upon thy sweetness, Flies like a courser nigh the goal; To-morrow where shall be his fleetness, When thou art parted from my soul? Our hearts shall beat, our tears shall flow, But not together, -- no, no, no! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A MAN CHILD IS BORN (1809) by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE POOR by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS THE CREATION by CECIL FRANCES ALEXANDER POPPY: FANTASTIC EXTRAVAGANCE by FRANCIS THOMPSON THE ANGLER'S WISH by IZAAK WALTON |