FAREWELL, farewell, I'll dream no more 'Tis misery to be dreaming; Farewell, farewell, and I will be At least like thee in seeming. I will go forth to the green vale, Where the sweet wild flowers are dwelling, Where the leaves and the birds together sing, And the woodland fount is welling. Not there, not there, too much of bloom Has spring flung o'er each blossom; The tranquil place too much contrasts The unrest of my bosom. I will go to the lighted halls, Where midnight passes fleetest; Oh! memory there too much recals Of saddest and of sweetest. I'll turn me to the gifted page Where the bard his soul is flinging; Too well it echoes mine own heart, Breaking e'en while singing. I must have rest; oh! heart of mine, When wilt thou lose thy sorrow? Never, till in the quiet grave; Would I slept there to-morrow! ROSEBUD mouth, sunny brow, Wore she who, fairy-like, sprung now Beside the harp. Careless she hung Over the chords; her bright air flung A sunshine round her. Light laugh'd she, "All too sad are your songs for me; Let me try if the strings will breathe For minstrel of the aspen wreath." Lightly the answering prelude fell, Thus sang the Lady ISABELLE. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WE HAVE GONE THROUGH GREAT ROOMS TOGETHER by CARL SANDBURG FAITH AND DESPONDENCY by EMILY JANE BRONTE THE PLAINT OF THE CAMEL by CHARLES EDWARD CARRYL PRAYER OF AN UNEMPLOYED MAN by W. C. ACKERLY TO A WITHERED ROSE by JOHN KENDRICK BANGS LILIES: 6. MY BELOVED by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) |