Why stirs, with sad alarm, the heart, For all who meet must some day part? So, let no useless cavil be, True wisdom bows to God's decree. Though lingers on the lid the tear, 'Tis one of sorrow, not of fear, For well we know we cannot cling Forever to the parent wing. But not in vain our years were spent, The mother kind gave nourishment, And as the swift years rolled along, We ever waxed more hale and strong. And now, the world we fear no more, As here we stand upon the shore, Prepared to cast our moorings free, And breast the waves of future's sea. Our hearts are full, the prospect bright, Our breasts are heaving at the sight, While youthful joy o'erruns its cup, And Hope's fair hand shall buoy us up. The wind is fair, the sails are spread, Let hearts be firm, "God Speed" is said; Before us lies the untried way, And we're impatient at the stay. At last we move, how thrills the heart, So long impatient for the start! Now up o'er hill and down through dell, The echoes bring our song -- farewell. The breezes take it up, and bear The loud refrain on wings of air; And to the skies, the sad notes swell, Of this our last farewell, farewell! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SUMMER SHIRT SALE by CARL SANDBURG AN ODE, PARAPHRASED: THE CUP by ANACREON ANDREA DEL SARTO (CALLED THE FAULTLESS PAINTER) by ROBERT BROWNING ON THIS DAY I COMPLETE MY THIRTY-SIXTH YEAR by GEORGE GORDON BYRON OUR MODEST DOUGHBOYS by CHARLTON ANDREWS MASKS OF DEATH by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN A NEW PILGRIMAGE: 29 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT LYNCHED NEGRO by MAXWELL BODENHEIM LINES WRITTEN IN ROUSSEAU'S LETTERS OF AN ITALIAN NUN. by GEORGE GORDON BYRON |