“Then fare thee well! I leave thee not in loneliness to pine,
Since thou hast sons of statelier mien and fairer brow than mine.
Forgive me that thou couldst not love!—it may be that a tone
Yet from my burning heart may pierce through thine, when I am gone;
And thou, perchance, mayst weep for him on whom thou ne’er hast smiled,
And the grave give his birthright back to thy neglected child!
Might but my spirit then return, and midst its kindred dwell,
And quench its thirst with love’s free tears! ’Tis all a dream—farewell!”
“Farewell!”—the echo died with that deep word;
Yet died not so the late repentant pang