 | Prose sketches and poems |  |
BALLAD,
Written on leaving New England.
Farewell to thee, New England,
Farewell to thee and thine;
Farewell to leafy Newbury,
And Rowley's woods of pine.
Farewell to thee, old Merrimack,
Thou deep, deep heart of blue;
Oh! could I say, while looking back,
That all, like thee, are true!
Farewell to thee, old Ocean,
Gray father of the waves;
Thou, whose incessant motion
The wing of ruin braves.
Farewell to thee, old Ocean;
I'll see thee yet once more,
Perhaps, or ere I die, but not
Along my own bright shore.
Farewell to thee and thine;
Farewell to leafy Newbury,
And Rowley's woods of pine.
Farewell to thee, old Merrimack,
Thou deep, deep heart of blue;
Oh! could I say, while looking back,
That all, like thee, are true!
Farewell to thee, old Ocean,
Gray father of the waves;
Thou, whose incessant motion
The wing of ruin braves.
Farewell to thee, old Ocean;
I'll see thee yet once more,
Perhaps, or ere I die, but not
Along my own bright shore.
192
Farewell, the White Hills' summer snow,
Ascutney's cone of green;
Farewell Monadnoc's regal glow,
Old Holyoke's emerald sheen.
Farewell to hill, and lake, and dell,
And each trout-peopled stream,
That out of granite rocks doth swell,
And ocean-ward doth stream.
Farewell to all—both friends and foes—
To all I leave behind;
I think not now of wrong and woes:
A long farewell, and kind.
I go to live—perchance to die—
Unknown, in other climes;
A man of many follies I,
Perhaps, but not of crimes.
I have a pride in thee, my land,
Home of the free and brave;
Still to thy ancient motto stand,
Of `Honor or a grave.'
And if I be on ocean tost,
Or scorched by burning sun,
It still shall be my proudest boast,
I am New England's son.
So a health to thee, New England,
In a parting cup of wine;
Farewell to leafy Newbury.
And Rowley's woods of pine.
Ascutney's cone of green;
Farewell Monadnoc's regal glow,
Old Holyoke's emerald sheen.
Farewell to hill, and lake, and dell,
And each trout-peopled stream,
That out of granite rocks doth swell,
And ocean-ward doth stream.
Farewell to all—both friends and foes—
To all I leave behind;
I think not now of wrong and woes:
A long farewell, and kind.
I go to live—perchance to die—
Unknown, in other climes;
A man of many follies I,
Perhaps, but not of crimes.
I have a pride in thee, my land,
Home of the free and brave;
Still to thy ancient motto stand,
Of `Honor or a grave.'
And if I be on ocean tost,
Or scorched by burning sun,
It still shall be my proudest boast,
I am New England's son.
So a health to thee, New England,
In a parting cup of wine;
Farewell to leafy Newbury.
And Rowley's woods of pine.
| Prose sketches and poems | |