Heath flowers being a collection of poems, chiefly lyrical, written in the Highlands. By William Glen |
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THE FAREWELL. |
 | Heath flowers |  |
55
THE FAREWELL.
We now must part, the stranger's boat draws nigh,
My face can scarcely brighten with a smile;
Yonder's the Ship, I murmur with a sigh,
That is to waft me to my highland Isle:
We'll soon be separated by many a mile,
And sad, indeed, will be my fleeting day;
O! oft I'll steal from bustling noise awhile,
To muse on Anna, who'll be far away.
My face can scarcely brighten with a smile;
Yonder's the Ship, I murmur with a sigh,
That is to waft me to my highland Isle:
We'll soon be separated by many a mile,
And sad, indeed, will be my fleeting day;
O! oft I'll steal from bustling noise awhile,
To muse on Anna, who'll be far away.
O! couldst thou hover on a bright moon-beam,
And shine into the chamber of my rest!
Awaken gladness in my midnight dream,
And fill with rapture my poor tortured breast;
I then, indeed, would be supremely blest,
Thy image would my daily thoughts employ,
With sweet content my pillow should be prest,
For then my night would be a night of joy.
And shine into the chamber of my rest!
Awaken gladness in my midnight dream,
And fill with rapture my poor tortured breast;
I then, indeed, would be supremely blest,
Thy image would my daily thoughts employ,
With sweet content my pillow should be prest,
For then my night would be a night of joy.
56
Fearful forebodings fill my sickning soul,
That this farewel shall be indeed the last;
Wild throbs my heart, the burning tear-drops roll,
And every cheerful thought is overcast:
The storm is lowring, keen misfortune's blast,
I know, will soon, soon lay me in the tomb;
I'll muse on thee, and memory of the past
Will fling a sun-beam thro' the lonely gloom.
That this farewel shall be indeed the last;
Wild throbs my heart, the burning tear-drops roll,
And every cheerful thought is overcast:
The storm is lowring, keen misfortune's blast,
I know, will soon, soon lay me in the tomb;
I'll muse on thee, and memory of the past
Will fling a sun-beam thro' the lonely gloom.
Then fare ye well, may ever-blooming flowers
Spring up to cheer thee in thy solitude;
May friendship gladden, pleasure gild thy hours;
For sad and cheerless is lone widowhood;
My warmest prayer shall still be for thy good,
My fondest thoughts shall ever dwell on thee,
And to thy breast, if former scenes obtrude,
O let, at times, a sigh be heaved for me.
Spring up to cheer thee in thy solitude;
May friendship gladden, pleasure gild thy hours;
For sad and cheerless is lone widowhood;
My warmest prayer shall still be for thy good,
My fondest thoughts shall ever dwell on thee,
And to thy breast, if former scenes obtrude,
O let, at times, a sigh be heaved for me.
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