Isabella Fyvie Mayo
Good-Bye - Poem by Isabella Fyvie Mayo
And one goes out, and one stays standing still,
And that day's sun sink, o'er the low green hill.
And he goes on, far over field and moor,
And she turns back, goes in, and shuts the door.
She smiled upon him to the very last;
He'll never know what came when that was past.
And he who goes—he has but half the the pain,
His world is new, her empty rooms remain.
The books he opened, can she bear to close?
The rose he gathered; she will keep that rose!
And yet a day shall come when she shall say
''T was well that he who loved me went away.'
Love scarce is true until it has been tried;
And hearts can hold when hands are severed wide.
The last strong light of love in dying eyes
Pierces the mists of death that o'er them rise.
Nor Life nor Death has power to sever Love
It moves the world and builds the heaven above.
It ever has a sound of tears and sorrow;
Yet while we sleep, it changes to 'Good-morrow.'
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