 | The Poetical Works of Oliver Wendell Holmes |  |
400
THE DEPARTURE
She turned, and sought the rock once more,
She heared the distant parting hail,
And sat her sadly on the shore
To watch the lessening sail;
It was a bitter thing to start
The slumbers of the dreaming heart,
To break its yet unsevered chain,
And know it might not meet again.
She heared the distant parting hail,
And sat her sadly on the shore
To watch the lessening sail;
It was a bitter thing to start
The slumbers of the dreaming heart,
To break its yet unsevered chain,
And know it might not meet again.
She loved him from a very child,
With all the love that children feel,
When streams that deepen as they flow,
From nature's fountain steal;
When hopes with yet unbroken wing
Rise freshest from the dews of spring,
And thoughts that would alone be cold,
Grow warmer in their mutual fold.
With all the love that children feel,
When streams that deepen as they flow,
From nature's fountain steal;
When hopes with yet unbroken wing
Rise freshest from the dews of spring,
And thoughts that would alone be cold,
Grow warmer in their mutual fold.
Could he forget her? was there aught
In sea or earth, in time or space?
How could he find another home
Amidst the stranger race?
And would he look in brighter eyes
Lit by the sun of southern skies,
And smile to think his heart was free
From her who wept beyond the sea?
In sea or earth, in time or space?
How could he find another home
Amidst the stranger race?
And would he look in brighter eyes
Lit by the sun of southern skies,
And smile to think his heart was free
From her who wept beyond the sea?
She did not ask to hear of him,
But when her daily toil was done,—
She lingered by the darkening wave
Beneath the setting sun;
They deemed her happy, for she smiled
As idly as a dreaming child,
And looked as she had never known
The sorrow that she mused alone.
But when her daily toil was done,—
She lingered by the darkening wave
Beneath the setting sun;
They deemed her happy, for she smiled
As idly as a dreaming child,
And looked as she had never known
The sorrow that she mused alone.
Go to the cottage by the cliff,
If you have never been before,
And kiss the little blushing girl
That meets you at the door;
And if you wish to know the tale,
How changed the cheek that once was pale,
A rosy boy, with curling hair,
Will tell you all the story there.
If you have never been before,
And kiss the little blushing girl
That meets you at the door;
And if you wish to know the tale,
How changed the cheek that once was pale,
A rosy boy, with curling hair,
Will tell you all the story there.
| The Poetical Works of Oliver Wendell Holmes | |