WHEN Jessie comes with her soft breast, 
   And yields the golden keys, 
Then is it as if God caress'd 
   Twin babes upon His knees-- 
Twin babes that, each to other press'd, 
Just feel the Father's arms, wherewith they both are bless'd. 

But when I think if we must part, 
   And all this personal dream be fled-- 
O then my heart! O then my useless heart! 
   Would God that thou wert dead-- 
A clod insensible to joys and ills-- 
A stone remote in some bleak gully of the hills!