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Goodbye Poems

Table of Contents

  1. Ae Fond Kiss by Robert Burns
  2. When We Two Parted by George Gord, Lord Byron
  3. A Farewell by Charles Kingsley
  4. To-Day by Ellen Fessenden Lincoln
  5. Highland Mary by Robert Burns
  6. Farewell to the Farm by Robert Louis Stevenson
  7. Farewell by Frances Anne Kemble

  1. Ae Fond Kiss

    by Robert Burns

    Ae fond kiss, and then we sever;
    Ae fareweel, and then forever!
    Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee,
    Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee.
    Who shall say that Fortune grieves him,
    While the star of hope she leaves him?
    Me, nae cheerfu' twinkle lights me;
    Dark despair around benights me.

    I'll ne'er blame my partial fancy,
    Naething could resist my Nancy;
    But to see her was to love her;
    Love but her, and love forever.
    Had we never lov'd sae kindly,
    Had we never lov'd sae blindly,
    Never met—or never parted—
    We had ne'er been broken-hearted.

    Fare thee weel, thou first and fairest!
    Fare thee weel, thou best and dearest!
    Thine be ilka joy and treasure,
    Peace. enjoyment, love, and pleasure!
    Ae fond kiss, and then we sever;
    Ae fareweel, alas, forever!
    Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee,
    Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee!

  2. When We Two Parted

    by George Gord, Lord Byron

    When we two parted
    In silence and tears,
    Half broken-hearted
    To sever for years,
    Pale grew thy cheek and cold,
    Colder thy kiss;
    Truly that hour foretold
    Sorrow to this.

    The dew of the morning
    Sunk chill on my brow—
    It felt like the warning
    Of what I feel now.
    Thy vows are all broken,
    And light is thy fame;
    I hear thy name spoken,
    And share in its shame.

    They name thee before me,
    A knell to mine ear;
    A shudder comes o’er me—
    Why wert thou so dear?
    They know not I knew thee,
    Who knew thee too well—
    Long, long shall I rue thee,
    Too deeply to tell.

    In secret we met—
    In silence I grieve,
    That thy heart could forget,
    Thy spirit deceive.
    If I should meet thee
    After long years,
    How should I greet thee?—
    With silence and tears.

  3. A Farewell

    Farewell to a child
    The Youngest Son's Farewell
    by Adolph Tidemand
    by Charles Kingsley.

    My fairest child, I have no song to give you;
    No lark could pipe to skies so dull and gray;
    Yet, ere we part, one lesson I can leave you
    For every day.

    Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever;
    Do noble things, not dream them all day long:
    And so make life, death, and that vast forever
    One grand, sweet song.

  4. To-Day

    by Ellen Fessenden Lincoln

    The sunshine lingers in the room,
    I see it through the window stream;
    Kissing the pillow where he lay
    His head in many a boyish dream.
    But O the change since yesterday,—
    The young, strong step that I so miss,
    The weary miles now stretching on
    Between us and my last fond kiss.

    And mine had been a different plan,—
    A dream of sheltered nooks and bowers,
    Of toil and pleasure hand in hand,
    Of home and friends and merry hours.
    But he had longed to try the world,
    Its hopes, its promises, its cares,
    To tempt Dame Fortune's fickle smile,
    And win her to him unawares.

    And so, with spirit bold and brave,
    He pressed my hand in mute "good-bye,"
    And turned aside, lest I should see
    The tears that glistened in his eye.
    And my poor heart was aching sore,
    He might have heard each throb of pain,
    My questioning heart, that yearned to know
    If I should meet my boy again.

    O life is hard! The common lot
    And parting wring the anguished heart.
    But O how differently we'd choose,
    Yet see our fondest hopes depart!
    We take the burden we would fain
    Lay down, and fold our weary hands,
    Praying our loss may be his gain,
    Trusting to Him who understands.

  5. Highland Mary

    by Robert Burns

    Ye banks, and braes, and streams around
    The castle o' Montgomery,
    Green be your woods, and fair your flowers,
    Your waters never drumlie!
    There Simmer first unfald her robes,
    And there the langest tarry:
    For there I took the last Fareweel
    O' my sweet Highland Mary.

    How sweetly bloom'd the gay, green birk,
    How rich the hawthorn's blossom;
    As underneath their fragrant shade,
    I clasp'd her to my bosom!
    The golden Hours, on angel wings,
    Flew o'er me and my Dearie;
    For dear to me as light and life
    Was my sweet Highland Mary.

    Wi' mony a vow, and lock'd embrace,
    Our parting was fu' tender;
    And pledging aft to meet again,
    We tore oursels asunder:
    But Oh! fell Death's untimely frost,
    That nipt my Flower sae early!
    Now green's the sod, and cauld's the clay,
    That wraps my Highland Mary!

    O pale, pale now, those rosy lips,
    I aft hae kiss'd sae fondly!
    And clos'd for ay the sparkling glance,
    That dwalt on me sae kindly!
    And mouldering now in silent dust,
    That heart that lo'ed me dearly!
    But still within my bosom's core
    Shall live my Highland Mary.

  6. Farewell to the Farm

    by Robert Louis Stevenson

    The coach is at the door at last;
    The eager children, mounting fast
    And kissing hands, in chorus sing:
    Good-bye, good-bye, to everything!

    To house and garden, field and lawn,
    The meadow-gates we swang upon,
    To pump and stable, tree and swing,
    Good-bye, good-bye, to everything!

    And fare you well for evermore,
    O ladder at the hayloft door,
    O hayloft where the cobwebs cling,
    Good-bye, good-bye, to everything!

    Crack goes the whip, and off we go;
    The trees and houses smaller grow;
    Last, round the woody turn we swing:
    Good-bye, good-bye, to everything!

  7. Farewell

    by Frances Anne Kemble

    I shall come no more to the Cedar Hall,
    The fairies' palace, beside the stream;
    Where the yellow sun rays at morning fall
    Through their tresses dark, with a mellow gleam.

    I shall tread no more the thick dewy lawn,
    When the young moon hangs on the brow of night,
    Nor see the morning, at early dawn,
    Shake the fading stars from her robes of light.

    I shall fly no more on my fiery steed,
    O'er the springing sward,—through the twilight wood;
    Nor rein my courser, and check my speed,
    By the lonely grange, and the haunted flood.

    At fragrant noon, I shall lie no more
    'Neath the oak's broad shade, in the leafy dell:
    The sun is set,—the day is o'er,—
    The summer is past;—farewell!—farewell

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