Poems — Farewell!

Let mine eyes the parting take, Which my faint lips never can;

Moments such as these might break Even the sternest heart of man.

Mournfully doth Joy's eclipse, Shroud in grief Love's sweetest sign;

Cold the pressure of thy lips, Cold the hand that rests in mine.

Once the slightest stolen kiss-- O, what rapture did it bring!

Like a violet's loveliness, Found and plucked in early spring.

Now, no more my hand shall twine, Rose wreaths, sweetest love, for thee;

Without, is summer's glorious prime, Within, weird autumn's misery.

CATARINA.

FROM THE PORTUGUESE OF CAMOENS.