 | [Poems by Whittier in] A Study of Whittier's Apprenticeship as a Poet |  |
219
THE FAREWELL
Farewell;—I feel that thou and I,
Must part even now, perhaps forever;
I heard last night thy long good bye
And chained but with a proud endeavor
The smothered tide of tearful feeling—
I could not bear that other eyes
Should smile upon the heart's unsealing
Of all its hidden sympathies.
Oh—was it not a mocking thing
At that last hour of parting sadness
Over the fount of tears to fling
The light and careless smile of gladness!
Must part even now, perhaps forever;
I heard last night thy long good bye
And chained but with a proud endeavor
The smothered tide of tearful feeling—
I could not bear that other eyes
Should smile upon the heart's unsealing
Of all its hidden sympathies.
Oh—was it not a mocking thing
At that last hour of parting sadness
Over the fount of tears to fling
The light and careless smile of gladness!
Yes—sadder eyes were fixed on thee—
And sadder tones bespoke regret;
And trembling hands were proffered free,
And young, fair cheeks with tears were wet;
And I—the saddest one of all—
Returned thy greeting with a smile—
That smile was for the crowded hall—
My heart was with thee all the while;
And burning thoughts were thronging there—
The hopes and fears affection hath
To prompt its still, unuttered prayer
For blessings on the loved one's path.
And sadder tones bespoke regret;
And trembling hands were proffered free,
And young, fair cheeks with tears were wet;
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Returned thy greeting with a smile—
That smile was for the crowded hall—
My heart was with thee all the while;
And burning thoughts were thronging there—
The hopes and fears affection hath
To prompt its still, unuttered prayer
For blessings on the loved one's path.
They tell me thou wilt choose thee one
Of brighter eyes and glossier curls—
Among the “Children of the Sun”—
The silver-toned Italian girls;
That she will love thee with the glow
And joy of her voluptuous clime;
And whisper music, like the flow
Of soft winds in the summer time:—
That when the moonlight sleepeth on
Gay Venice and her many isles—
And when the gondolier alone
May mark the dalliance hour of smiles,
Thy arm will bear a yielding form—
Thy hand amid her tresses play,
And fervent kisses soft and warm,
Disturb at times her melting lay.
Of brighter eyes and glossier curls—
Among the “Children of the Sun”—
The silver-toned Italian girls;
That she will love thee with the glow
And joy of her voluptuous clime;
And whisper music, like the flow
Of soft winds in the summer time:—
That when the moonlight sleepeth on
Gay Venice and her many isles—
And when the gondolier alone
May mark the dalliance hour of smiles,
Thy arm will bear a yielding form—
Thy hand amid her tresses play,
And fervent kisses soft and warm,
Disturb at times her melting lay.
Alas!—I would believe thee true—
And yet I fear a change will come,
And waste away like morning dew,
Affection's rich and untold sum.
For thou wilt roam in other lands,
And other eyes will smile on thee,
And thou wilt ask from other hands,
The gifts which I have proffered thee;
For I have seen thee in my dream
Of feverish and unquiet sleeping,
Devoid of all which man should seem
When Love around his path is weeping.
I've seen thee at the altar-side
And listened to the rites which gave
Unto thy arms another bride,
And left forsaken love—a grave!
And yet I fear a change will come,
And waste away like morning dew,
Affection's rich and untold sum.
For thou wilt roam in other lands,
And other eyes will smile on thee,
And thou wilt ask from other hands,
The gifts which I have proffered thee;
For I have seen thee in my dream
Of feverish and unquiet sleeping,
Devoid of all which man should seem
When Love around his path is weeping.
I've seen thee at the altar-side
And listened to the rites which gave
Unto thy arms another bride,
And left forsaken love—a grave!
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God grant my dreams may never prove
Their stern reality of wrong;
Nor make the meaning of thy love
A ring—a promise—and a song.
I do believe thou lovest me now—
But will thy boyish dream remain,
When foreign suns have lent thy brow
A darker and a manlier stain?
And wilt thou love my memory, while
Above thee bends the Italian sky?
Or where the Grecian maidens smile—
Or where the Georgian dance goes by?
Their stern reality of wrong;
Nor make the meaning of thy love
A ring—a promise—and a song.
I do believe thou lovest me now—
But will thy boyish dream remain,
When foreign suns have lent thy brow
A darker and a manlier stain?
And wilt thou love my memory, while
Above thee bends the Italian sky?
Or where the Grecian maidens smile—
Or where the Georgian dance goes by?
Farewell!—forgive the doubts which fling
A shadow on our parting hour,—
Nor deem my heart a wayward thing—
A jealous and ungentle dower:
For woman's love is blent with fears—
Her confidence—a trembling one—
Her smile—the harbinger of tears—
Her hope—the change of April's sun!
Farewell!—and oh! where'er thou art,
Indulge at times a thought of me,
And I will soothe my trembling heart
In one long dream of love and thee.
A shadow on our parting hour,—
Nor deem my heart a wayward thing—
A jealous and ungentle dower:
For woman's love is blent with fears—
Her confidence—a trembling one—
Her smile—the harbinger of tears—
Her hope—the change of April's sun!
Farewell!—and oh! where'er thou art,
Indulge at times a thought of me,
And I will soothe my trembling heart
In one long dream of love and thee.
New England Weekly Review
July 26, 1830
| [Poems by Whittier in] A Study of Whittier's Apprenticeship as a Poet | |