  Fare thee well!—the word is spoken, That makes the past a dream to me; The long delicious spell is broken— Yet fare thee well, since thou art free! Yes! thou art free; but oh, how shatter'd This faithful heart thou couldst not know, Nor see each crush'd affection scatter'd, And yet with chilling coldness go! Perchance unto this bosom's yearning, Thou'dst answer with some kindred sigh, Or seek to quell its secret burning, With one glance from thy pitying eye. Yet were it so, how would it cherish That tender look, 'a death in life;' Oh! better far at once to perish, Than linger through hope's fever'd strife! Then fare thee well!—mid others ranging, Thou carest not to look on me; Nor heedest the true love, unchanging, That like a beacon, shines for thee. Yet when the meteor has departed, That lur'd thee to the world's caress, When languid, drooping, broken-hearted, Thou sinkest back in weariness; Then come to one, who, though forsaken, Still loved thee on, through weal and wo; Nor would one memory awaken, That o'er thy path a shade could throw. Yes, come! and like the star of even, My love shall cheer thine earthly way, And in the blessed light of heaven, Shine on, an ever-constant ray! M. E. L. |
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