 | Poems (1845) |  |
34
[“How sad to see the friend we love depart]
“How sad to see the friend we love depart
With all that's dear torn from our bleeding heart!
No pen alas! can write, no tongue can tell,
What feelings mingle with a last farewell.
While Memory traces all that's gone before,
And magic Fancy future scenes runs o'er,
Each pang we felt, each sorrow that we knew—
Again we seem to feel it all anew;
We see them now a moment and no more,
To us they're gone with those the floods before.
As waves from their deep bed heaved by the wind,
Thy sounds, farewell, convulsive heave the mind.
With all that's dear torn from our bleeding heart!
No pen alas! can write, no tongue can tell,
What feelings mingle with a last farewell.
While Memory traces all that's gone before,
And magic Fancy future scenes runs o'er,
35
Again we seem to feel it all anew;
We see them now a moment and no more,
To us they're gone with those the floods before.
As waves from their deep bed heaved by the wind,
Thy sounds, farewell, convulsive heave the mind.
To all I'd resolutely bid adieu
With coldness, save, my honour'd friend, to you;
But in this breast thy memory still shall live,
While life one recollecting power can give.
And though my name by thee forgot should lie
In thickest shades, 'neath blank oblivion's sky,
Yet on this heart thy name shall still abide
While life rolls through my veins the purple tide;
Though Time should every other thought estrange,
To thee, my heart shall know no future change;
To me none else shall fill thy place anew,—
But now comes o'er my heart the word, adieu!”
With coldness, save, my honour'd friend, to you;
But in this breast thy memory still shall live,
While life one recollecting power can give.
And though my name by thee forgot should lie
In thickest shades, 'neath blank oblivion's sky,
Yet on this heart thy name shall still abide
While life rolls through my veins the purple tide;
Though Time should every other thought estrange,
To thee, my heart shall know no future change;
To me none else shall fill thy place anew,—
But now comes o'er my heart the word, adieu!”
| Poems (1845) | |