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FAREWELL.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


78

FAREWELL.

MICHAELMAS DAISY.

I heard thy low-whispered farewell, love,
And silently saw thee depart;—
Ay, silent;—for how could words tell, love,
The sorrow that swelled in my heart?
They could not—oh! language is faint,
When Passion's devotion would speak;
Light pleasure or pain it may paint,
But with feelings like ours it is weak!
Yet tearless and mute though I stood, love,
Thy last words are thrilling me yet,
And my heart would have breathed, if it could, love,
And murmured: “Oh! do not forget!”