THE LAST FAREWELL.
Well I remember
Her long, lingering look,—
The last farewell I took,
Returning from home.
’Twas early September,
The cornfields looked yellow,
And garden fruits mellow
Were beginning to come.
She came to the gate with me,
And faltered, “Farewell!”
But oh! it was a hard one;
The silent tear fell
Down from her eye.
Merrily the birds sang,
But in her heart rang
A more sorrowful lay,
As she saw me away,
Watching the turn
Where ripples the burn,
Till I had gone past;
And this was the last—
The last of farewells.
Oh how Time tells
His wonderful power,
So stern in the hour!