These part us, if at heart we are embraced, 
Their savage silence admits no reply: 
Mountains of miles, the waters, and the waste. 

As hungry fasts are haunted by the taste 
Of festivals gone by, the days go by. 
These part us, if at heart we are embraced. 

We have admired together vases chased 
With peak and cataract; now stretched eyes deny 
Mountains of miles, the waters, and the waste. 

Familiar streets, intimate rooms, erased 
By them, revive, but soon our minds let die. 
These part us. If at heart we are embraced? 

Fresh pleasures glow, old troubles are outfaced 
By stranger troubles, all nothing, against those high 
Mountains of miles, the waters, and the waste. 

The punishment for lovers who have disgraced 
Love, so divided, we begin to try. 
These part us, if at heart we are embraced: 
Mountains of miles, the waters, and the waste.