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155

I'LL NAME THE PLACE.

I

I'll name the place, I'll name the hour,
Then come—for 'tis a last farewell;
The place shall be the myrtle bower,
The time, when sounds the vesper bell.
We will not meet as oft we've met,
Nor part, as oft we've parted there,
Endearing words may breathe regret,
But silent tears express despair.

II

I know that some to soothe thy pain
Would say that we again shall meet;
But no, my eyes, that cannot feign,
Would soon betray my tougue's deceit.
Thou shalt be hopeless—I am so,
And rather would I know my doom,
Than smile, when friends for ever go,
And watch—tho' they will never come.

III

And some, to give thy heart relief,
A parting interview would shun.
As if it could be a less grief,
To ask for me when I am gone!
Oh no, I've nam'd the place, the hour,
Then come, for 'tis a last farewell;
The place shall be the myrtle bower,
The time, when sounds the vesper bell.