I speak not, I trace not, I breath not thy name
There is grief in the sound, there is guilt in the fame
But the tear which now burns on my cheek may impart
The deep thoughts that dwell in that silence of heart
Too brief for our passion, too long for our peace
Were those hours – can their joy or their bitterness cease?
We repent, we abjure, we will break from our chain
We will part, we will fly to unite it again
Oh, thine be the gladness, and mine be the guilt!
Forgive me, adored one! – forsake, if thou wilt
But the heart which is thine shall expire undebased
And man shall not break it – whatever thou may'st
Too brief for our passion, too long for our peace
Were those hours – can their joy or their bitterness cease?
We repent, we abjure, we will break from our chain
We will part, we will fly to unite it again
And stern to the haughty, but humble to thee
This soul in its bitterest blackness shall be
And our days seem as swift, and our moments more sweet
With thee by my side, than with worlds at our feet
One sigh of thy sorrow, one look of thy love
Shall turn me or fix, shall reword or reprove
And the heartless may wonder at all I resign
Thy lip shall reply, not to them, but to mine
Too brief for our passion, too long for our peace
Were those hours – can their joy or their bitterness cease?
We repent, we abjure, we will break from our chain
We will part, we will fly to unite it again