The Southern Literary Messenger, Volume I., 1834-35

To —— ——

We parted—not as lovers part—
No tear was in thine eye;
No mantling blush was on thy cheek,
Thy bosom heaved no sigh;
Yet there was something in thine air
That seemed to all unmoved,—
Something that told my bursting heart,
Dearest, that I was loved.

For, when I took thy gentle hand
To bid a short adieu,
Methought within my trembling clasp,
That white hand trembled too;
And when too, from my faltering tongue
The parting accents fell,
Thou didst not, dearest—can it be
Thou couldst not say farewell!

Forgive, if I have boldly erred—
If fancy 'twere alone,
That check'd thy voice, and lent thy hand
The tremors of my own.
Forgive, forgive the daring thought—
Forgive the hopes—the love—
That bids me seek thee soon again,
My bliss or wo to prove.

T. H. T.

For the Southern Literary Messenger.