Maurice Thompson (1844-1901 / the United States)
Farewell! It is no sorrowful word.
It has never had a pang for me.
Sweet as the last song of a bird,
Soft as a wind-swell from the sea,
The word Farewell.
I part with you as oft before
I 've parted with dear friends and sweet,
And now I shake (forevermore)
Your memory's gold-dust from my feet.
Soon I shall find a new sweet face,
And other eyes as pure and strong
As yours are now, and then a space
Of life that ripples into song,
And then farewell!
Farewell! farewell! Throw me a kiss!
How fast the distance grows between!
Now memory fades-a film of bliss,
A far-off mist of silvery sheen:
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