Poems (Follen)/The Farewell

by Eliza Lee Cabot Follen

For works with similar titles, see The Farewell.

THE FAREWELL.

    The roses are dead,
    The summer has fled,
And the music of birds will soon cease.
    The feathery hours
    Have passed with the flowers;
Farewell to the cottage of peace!

    To your high hills so blue,
    A long, mournful adieu,
And your woods, where, enchanted, we roved;
    Where, with silent awe filled,
    Gay folly was stilled,
And thoughts that were saddest we loved.

    Sweet stream, flow along,
    And murmur your song,
As you wind through each flowery dell;
    While a sigh and a tear,
    On your bosom you bear,
From the heart that now bids you farewell.

    But the saddest adieu,
    Dear friends, is to you,
Whose kindness illumined the scene.
    Summer passes away,
    And the flowers decay—
Our friendship shall ever be green.

    In your peaceful domain,
    Though sorrow and pain
May intrude with their withering power;
    Yet virtue will last,
    And the wintry blast
Will spare you love's evergreen flower.

    Though at distance I dwell,
    Though I bid you farewell,
Yet the light-winged thought can restore
    Your kind, peaceful hearth,
    Where, mid friendship and mirth,
The tempest unheeded may roar.

    When the stormy winds blow,
    When whitened with snow
Are the fields where together we roved;
    When the dim twilight hour,
    With a saddening power,
Repictures past scenes that we loved,—

    You will not forget,
    To sigh with regret,
For summer companions away;
    And let our hearts meet,
    In communion sweet,
At the close of the wintry day.

    Farewell, ye dear friends!
    As life's twilight descends,
May the dawn of that morning increase,
    Which shall burst on the sight,
    In the regions of light,
And open the mansions of peace.