Poems (Douglas)/Farewell
For works with similar titles, see Farewell.
Farewell.
Yes, our last farewell is breathed, And we part, for ever part;Every tie is now unwreathed Which had bound us heart to heart;
For too plainly I discover All is perfidy in thee;Every dream of joy is over— But my heart, my heart is free.
Proudly is love's cincture broken, Which had circled it too long;Not for slightful language spoken, But the deep, deep sense of wrong.
Love, when cold neglect assails it, When 'tis too severely tried,Struggles long; yet what avails it? It must yield at length to pride.
In my bosom's fond romancing How I formed thee bright and pure,Each fond vow my love enhancing, Breathed, alas! but to allure.
Ah! how each contending passion In my tortured bosom strove;Grief, and pride, and adoration— For 'twas deeper still than love.
All was agony and madness In my breast and in my brain,Then a deep and sullen sadness Gave a darker tinge to pain.
Now this heart—once thine, thine only— Nerves itself with pride and scorn;Though forsaken, sad, and lonely, It thy tardy vows can spurn.
For the storm of grief is over, And a death-like stillness reigns;Yes! mistaken, heartless lover, Love no longer now remains.
Love thee now! my soul would scorn it; Bend to woo thy faithless smile—Now accept thy heart! I'd spurn it, Though my own should burst the while!
For our last farewell is breathed, And we part, for ever part;Every tie is now unwreathed Which had bound us heart to heart.