 | The Poetical Works of Caroline Bowles Southey |  |
180
DEPARTURE.
When I go away from my own dear home,
Let it be at the fall of the leaf,
When the soulless things that to me have been
Like spirits peopling the silent scene,
Are fading, as if in grief;
Let it be at the fall of the leaf,
When the soulless things that to me have been
Like spirits peopling the silent scene,
Are fading, as if in grief;
When the strains of the summer birds have ceased,
Or in far-off regions swell—
Oh! let me not hear the blithesome song
Of that blackbird I fed all winter long,
When I'm taking my last farewell.
Or in far-off regions swell—
Oh! let me not hear the blithesome song
Of that blackbird I fed all winter long,
When I'm taking my last farewell.
The robin-redbreast will come, I know,
That morn to the window-pane,
To look, as wont, for the scattered feast,
With his large dark eyes:—and that day, at least,
He shall not look in vain.
That morn to the window-pane,
To look, as wont, for the scattered feast,
With his large dark eyes:—and that day, at least,
He shall not look in vain.
Let the autumn wind, when I go away,
Make moan with its long-drawn breath:
“Fare thee well, sad one!” 'twill seem to say;
“Yet a little while, and a little way,
And thy feet shall rest in death.”
Make moan with its long-drawn breath:
“Fare thee well, sad one!” 'twill seem to say;
“Yet a little while, and a little way,
And thy feet shall rest in death.”
And here and there an evergreen leaf
I'll gather from shrub and tree,
To take with me wherever I go;
And when this poor head in dust lies low,
To be laid in the coffin with me.
I'll gather from shrub and tree,
To take with me wherever I go;
And when this poor head in dust lies low,
To be laid in the coffin with me.
181
I go not like one in the strength of youth,
Who hopes, though the passing cloud
May pour down its icy hail amain,
That summer and sunshine may break out again
The brighter from sorrow's shroud.
Who hopes, though the passing cloud
May pour down its icy hail amain,
That summer and sunshine may break out again
The brighter from sorrow's shroud.
An April morn and a clouded day
My portion of life hath been:
And darker and darker the evening sky
Stretches before me gloomily,
To the verge of the closing scene.
My portion of life hath been:
And darker and darker the evening sky
Stretches before me gloomily,
To the verge of the closing scene.
Gloomily darkens the evening sky:
I shall go with a heavy heart.
Yet, would I change, if the power were mine,
One tittle decreed by the will Divine?
On, no! not a thousandth part.
I shall go with a heavy heart.
Yet, would I change, if the power were mine,
One tittle decreed by the will Divine?
On, no! not a thousandth part.
In my blindness I've wished—in my feebleness wept,
With a weak, weak woman's wail;
But humbling my heart and its hopes in the dust—
All its hopes that are earthly—I've anchored my trust
On the strength that can never fail.
With a weak, weak woman's wail;
But humbling my heart and its hopes in the dust—
All its hopes that are earthly—I've anchored my trust
On the strength that can never fail.
| The Poetical Works of Caroline Bowles Southey | |