Poems (Truesdell)/The Parting
For works with similar titles, see The Parting.
THE PARTING.
"But there was weeping far away;
And gentle eyes, for him
With watching many an anxious day,
Were sorrowful and dim."—Bryant.
And gentle eyes, for him
With watching many an anxious day,
Were sorrowful and dim."—Bryant.
"Ye woods and wilds," how bright ye seem!
As green the mantle on your boughs,
As when in days now long gone by,
Ye listened to my Edmund's vows.
As green the mantle on your boughs,
As when in days now long gone by,
Ye listened to my Edmund's vows.
The birds sang out their happiest song;
The wild-flowers wore their brightest hue;
The skies in beauty o'er us bent,
Robed in their softest, loveliest blue.
The wild-flowers wore their brightest hue;
The skies in beauty o'er us bent,
Robed in their softest, loveliest blue.
Oh! were not those delightful hours
When every hope of life was young?
How, with fond woman's trusting powers,
Upon each tender word I hung!
When every hope of life was young?
How, with fond woman's trusting powers,
Upon each tender word I hung!
But, ah! the blessed charm soon fled;
For they who loved were doomed to part,
The one to die in foreign lands,
The other bear a broken heart.
For they who loved were doomed to part,
The one to die in foreign lands,
The other bear a broken heart.
We parted:—each returning morn
I came to look upon the sea;
And every eve I sat me down
Beneath the shadow of this tree.
I came to look upon the sea;
And every eve I sat me down
Beneath the shadow of this tree.
Forever hallowed be the spot,
Where first and last I sat with him!
I've gazed upon the sacred place
Until my very sight grew dim.
Where first and last I sat with him!
I've gazed upon the sacred place
Until my very sight grew dim.
But soon the fatal news came back—
It sped like wildfire through my brain—
That he, the loved and gifted one,
In battle on the seas was slain.
It sped like wildfire through my brain—
That he, the loved and gifted one,
In battle on the seas was slain.
For many a long and weary month,
I wandered forth a maniac wild,
Until a mother's tender care
Restored the reason of her child.
I wandered forth a maniac wild,
Until a mother's tender care
Restored the reason of her child.
Since then, with fond but faded hopes,
I've wandered through the earth alone;
Cheered by the high and holy hope,
I yet shall meet with him I mourn.
I've wandered through the earth alone;
Cheered by the high and holy hope,
I yet shall meet with him I mourn.