Adieu—for my heart must forget thee;
Fare thee well—I must love thee no more;
Yet in life can I cease to regret thee,
My peace can cold absence restore?
No—my soul was a waste till I saw thee;
Thy presence to cheer it was given—
My heart was a blank till I knew thee,
Thy love had once fill'd it with heaven.

Thy words could once rouse me to fury,
Thy sweet voice could calm me again;
There was pain in the passion I bore thee.
Yet I die when deprived of the pain.
When I pluck from thy breast that sweet madness,
From my heart its life's hope I shall tear;
Thus torn, it will bleed on in sadness
For a while, and then break in despair.