That might as well say "perish!" as "farewell!"
An eye which saw, far off, a tender form,
Beaten, unsheltered, by affliction's storm;
An arm—a lip—that trembled to embrace
My angel's gentle breast and sorrowing face,
A mind that clung to Ouse's fertile side
While tossing—objectless—on Menai's tide!
'Oh, Soul! that draw'st yon mighty hill and me
Into communion of vague unity,
Tell me, can I obtain the stony brow