"It Must Not Be"

"It Must Not Be"

The night was throbbing with rapture,

      Its pulses ran full with fire,

And the sea for the moon above her

      Sobbed her desire;

The pulse in your hand was stronger

      Than the pulse of the yearning sea—

But the heart of my heart kept beating,

      “It must not be.”

The roses trembled with perfume

      That thrilled us with sweet unrest,

And a storm of passionate longing

      Ached in my breast;

A dove for some dear lost passion

      Mourned tenderly on the hill—

But the heart of my heart kept beating,

      “Hush! hush! Be still!”

Each heard in the speech of the other

      The throb of a troubled heart,

For we knew that the hour was coming

      When we must part;

The soul in your eyes was drawing

      My soul, as the moon draws the sea—

But the heart of my heart kept beating,

      “It must not be.”

O Love, the years have been lonely,

      And empty of all delight,

Since we two parted forever

      That moonlit night!

But still when my soul is aching

      For the eyes and the lips of thee—

The heart of my heart keeps beating,

      “It must not be.”

"It Must Not Be" printed in Woman’s Home Companion in October 1900, clipping courtesy of the Ella Higginson Papers, Center for Pacific Northwest Studies, Heritage Resources, Western Washington University, Bellingham WA.

"It Must Not Be" printed in the Massachusetts' publication The Lynn Review in November 1900.