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158 THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF |
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To escape the wild wind's rancor, And harbors, worthiest homes,
Where freedom's sails could anchor; |
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FAREWELL! BUT WHENEVER YOU WELCOME THE HOUR
FAREWELL! but whenever you welcome the hour, That awakens the night-song of mirth in your bower, Then think of the friend who once welcomed it too, And forgot his own griefs to be happy with you. His griefs may return—not a hope may remain Of the few that have brightened his pathway of pain — But he ne'er will forget the short vision that threw Its enchantment around him while ling'ring with you.
And still on that evening, when pleasure fills up To the highest top sparkle each heart and each cup, Where'er my path lies, be it gloomy or bright, My soul, happy friends ! shall be with you that night; Shall join in your revels, your sports, and your wiles, • And return to me beaming all o'er with your smiles — Too blest, if it tells me that, 'mid the gay cheer, Some kind voice had murmured, " I wish he were here 1"
Let Fate do her worst, there are relics of joy, Bright dreams of the past, which she cannot destroy; Which come, in the night-time of sorrow and care, To bring back the features that joy used to wear. |
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