Poems (Rowe)/The Farewell
For works with similar titles, see The Farewell.
THE FAREWELL
THEY tell me that this fleeting breath Must soon, Love, pass away, And I have wept, for life to me Has been one Summer day. Oh! I shall never see again All that my heart holds dear, The Birds, the Flowers, my Mother's grave, I leave behind me here.
And, thou too, whom my soul adores, On Earth we'll never meet. I feel afraid to die alone, With thee, it would be sweet. I know 'tis wrong to murmur thus 'Gainst God's divine decree, But Life is sweet unto the young, And, I am leaving thee!
My image from that fond true heart, Ne'er let it fade away—My breath grows short—I have forgot Half what I wished to say. Pray God above, oh! plead for me, That we may meet on high. 'Twas wrong, perhaps, to love so well— Ah! Kiss me, Love—I die.