Of one still bright, still flowing spring—
A fount of kindness ever new,
In a friend’s heart, the good and true.
A PARTING SONG.
“O mes amis! rapellez-vous quelquefois mes vers! mon ame y est empreinte.”—Corinne.
When will ye think of me, my friends?
When will ye think of me?—
When the last red light, the farewell of day,
From the rock and the river is passing away—
When the air with a deepening hush is fraught,