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Poem
November 4, 1841
Virginia Free Press
Charles Town, Jefferson County, West Virginia
What is this article about?
A poem expressing a profound, unnamed affection that transcends friendship and love, emphasizing eternal spiritual connection and guardianship beyond death, addressed to a dear friend.
Clipping
OCR Quality
98%
Excellent
Full Text
The following is worthy of its distinguished authoress. Her genius breathes in every line:
I never have loved thee—yet, strange tho' it be.
So soft are the feelings I cherished For thee
That the wildest of passions could never impart
More joy to my soul, or more bliss to my heart;
They come o'er my breast in my happiest hours,
They come like the south wind that ruffles the flowers—
A thrilling of softness, a thrilling of bliss—
Say, is there no name for a passion like this?
It cannot be friendship, it cannot be love;
Yet I know the sweet feeling descends from above:
For it takes from my bosom no portion of ease,
Yet adds all the raptures, the pleasures of these:
For so soft the emotion my spirit hath nursed.
It is warm as the last, and more pure than the first;
For my heart when near thine grows as soft as a dove,
Yet it cannot be friendship, it cannot be love.
I know we must part, yet united in soul
Our thoughts like one current together will roll,
And oh! should my soul be the first to ascend.
When an angel in heaven I'll plead for my friend;
Yet sometimes I think when my young life is o'er,
And my voice, that hath thrill'd thee, can thrill thee no more,
That my spirit will steal from its mansion of bliss
To lie on thy bosom, and guard thee in this.
Thou may'st whisper farewell, but thou can'st not depart—
I hold thee too close in the folds of my heart;
And that full heart is deeper than aught else can be,
Unless 'tis the Feeling I cherish for thee.
Thou can'st not escape—for tho' wide be the bound,
Sweet memories like sentinels guard thee around:
Kind watchers! they'll keep each intruder away,
And hold thee my captive by night and by day.
'Were almost too sweet for such bosoms as ours
To die the calm death of the innocent flowers;
Yet, ah! if the angels will answer my prayers,
The close of our lives will be lovely as theirs;—
And, oh! if the death-pangs our bosoms must rend,
If they'll mingle my spirit with that of my friend,
I care not how soon they may sever earth's ties,
For, tho' parted on earth, we'll be linked in the skies.
I never have loved thee—yet, strange tho' it be.
So soft are the feelings I cherished For thee
That the wildest of passions could never impart
More joy to my soul, or more bliss to my heart;
They come o'er my breast in my happiest hours,
They come like the south wind that ruffles the flowers—
A thrilling of softness, a thrilling of bliss—
Say, is there no name for a passion like this?
It cannot be friendship, it cannot be love;
Yet I know the sweet feeling descends from above:
For it takes from my bosom no portion of ease,
Yet adds all the raptures, the pleasures of these:
For so soft the emotion my spirit hath nursed.
It is warm as the last, and more pure than the first;
For my heart when near thine grows as soft as a dove,
Yet it cannot be friendship, it cannot be love.
I know we must part, yet united in soul
Our thoughts like one current together will roll,
And oh! should my soul be the first to ascend.
When an angel in heaven I'll plead for my friend;
Yet sometimes I think when my young life is o'er,
And my voice, that hath thrill'd thee, can thrill thee no more,
That my spirit will steal from its mansion of bliss
To lie on thy bosom, and guard thee in this.
Thou may'st whisper farewell, but thou can'st not depart—
I hold thee too close in the folds of my heart;
And that full heart is deeper than aught else can be,
Unless 'tis the Feeling I cherish for thee.
Thou can'st not escape—for tho' wide be the bound,
Sweet memories like sentinels guard thee around:
Kind watchers! they'll keep each intruder away,
And hold thee my captive by night and by day.
'Were almost too sweet for such bosoms as ours
To die the calm death of the innocent flowers;
Yet, ah! if the angels will answer my prayers,
The close of our lives will be lovely as theirs;—
And, oh! if the death-pangs our bosoms must rend,
If they'll mingle my spirit with that of my friend,
I care not how soon they may sever earth's ties,
For, tho' parted on earth, we'll be linked in the skies.
What sub-type of article is it?
Ode
What themes does it cover?
Love Courtship
Friendship
Religious Faith
What keywords are associated?
Affection
Friendship
Love
Eternal Bond
Spiritual Connection
Death
Heaven
What entities or persons were involved?
Distinguished Authoress
Poem Details
Author
Distinguished Authoress
Form / Style
Rhymed Quatrains
Key Lines
I Never Have Loved Thee—Yet, Strange Tho' It Be.
Say, Is There No Name For A Passion Like This?
It Cannot Be Friendship, It Cannot Be Love;
Thou May'st Whisper Farewell, But Thou Can'st Not Depart—
For, Tho' Parted On Earth, We'll Be Linked In The Skies.