Poems (Hornblower)/The Adieu
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For works with similar titles, see The Adieu.
THE ADIEU.
I leave thee, dear one, leave thee, and long the time must be,
And spring must shine, and summer bloom, ere I return to thee;
And when the well-known door again is opened to my call,
I perhaps may hear thy little feet resounding in the hall.
And spring must shine, and summer bloom, ere I return to thee;
And when the well-known door again is opened to my call,
I perhaps may hear thy little feet resounding in the hall.
And all thy infant helplessness will then have past away,
Thou wilt not have remembered me, for many a distant clay;
And tones of mine, though fondest ones, will fall upon thine ear,
Ev'n as a stranger's voice might come, that never had been dear.
Thou wilt not have remembered me, for many a distant clay;
And tones of mine, though fondest ones, will fall upon thine ear,
Ev'n as a stranger's voice might come, that never had been dear.
My smile will be a stranger's smile, and yet this heart, for thee,
Will utter many an absent prayer upon a bended knee;
And in sadness, or in sorrow, that face will oft arise,
And like a seraph's, shine o'er me with those blue, peaceful eyes.
Will utter many an absent prayer upon a bended knee;
And in sadness, or in sorrow, that face will oft arise,
And like a seraph's, shine o'er me with those blue, peaceful eyes.