When, warned by chanticleer, you go
From her to whom you owe devoir,
"Say not 'good-by,'" she laughs, "but
'Au Revoir!'"
Thus from the garden are you sped;
And Juliet were the first to tell
You, you were silly if you said
"Farewell!"
"Farewell," meant long ago, before
It crept, tear-spattered, into song,
"Safe voyage!" "Pleasant journey!" or
"So long!"
But gone its cheery, old-time ring;
The poets made it rhyme with knell—
Joined it became a dismal thing—
"Farewell!"
"Farewell!" into the lover's soul
You see Fate plunge the fatal iron.
All poets use it. It's the whole
Of Byron.
"I only feel—farewell!" said he;
And always fearful was the telling—
Lord Byron was eternally
Farewelling.
"Farewell!" A dismal word, 'tis true
(And why not tell the truth about it!);
But what on earth would poets do
Without it?