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1802–1864

Fare The Well, Love.

George Pope Morris

Fare thee well, love!— We must sever! Nor for years, love; but for ever! We must meet no more — or only Meet as strangers — sad and lonely.

Fare thee well! Fare thee well, love!— How I languish For the cause of all my anguish! None have ever met and parted

So forlorn and broken-hearted. Fare thee well! Fare thee well, love — Till I perish All my truth for thee I'll cherish;

And, when thou my requiem hearest, Know till death I loved thee, dearest. Fare thee well! Thou Hast Woven the Spell.

Thou hast woven the spell that hath bound me, Through all the sad changes of years; And the smiles that I wore when I found thee, Have faded and melted in tears!

Like the poor, wounded fawn from the mountain, That seeks out the clear silver tide, I have lingered in vain at the fountain Of hope — with a shaft in my side!

Thou hast taught me that Love's rosy fetters A pang from the thorns may impart; That the coinage of vows and of letters Comes not from the mint of the heart.

Like the lone bird that flutters her pinion, And warbles in bondage her strain, I have struggled to fly thy domain, But find that the struggle is vain!

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Fare The Well, Love. · George Pope Morris · Poetry Cove