Enchanting maid, adieu : a farewell

Once more, enchanting maid, adieu!

I must be gone while yet I may.

Oft shall I weep to think of you;

But here I will not, cannot stay.

The sweet expression of that face,

For ever changing, yet the same,

Ah no, I dare not turn to trace.

It melts my soul, it fires my frame

Yet give me, give me, ere I go,

One little lock of those so blest,

That lend your cheek a warmer glow.

And on your white neck love to rest.

— Say, when, to kindle soft delight.

That hand has chanced with mine to meet.

How could its thrilling touch excite

A sigh so short, and yet so sweet?

O say—but no, it must not be.

Adieu! A long, a long adieu!

—Yet still, methinks, you frown on me;

Or never could I fly from you.