 | The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere |  |
A FAREWELL.
I
Round me thy great woods sighIn their full-foliaged glory; but I die:
Ah, blame me not; although
Tired and o'er-spent, I never prayed to go.
In thine old towers I leave
A cradled pledge to take his mother's part;
To vex thee not, nor grieve,
Yet lay, at times, my hand about thy heart.
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II
Nearer—this dying past—Bend nearer down that noble head at last;
Lower and yet more low
Till o'er my brow a tear has leave to flow.
Then the brief seizure quell;
And say that all is over; all is well:
Say I lived—and died—
For this, and am in silence satisfied.
| The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere | |