The poem
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!