The Farewell

Miss Vardill

The midnight hour is drear and dark
Chill blows the changeful wind:
But thou are gone! thy gallant bark
Has left me far behind.
Sweet Dora! where is not thy thought?
And where thy melting eye?
If sister-souls commune in ought,
Thy own is hov’ring nigh!
Thou lookest on the pale moon’s face
Half-hid in floating shade;
Thou think’st how soon the silver trace
Of memory may fade:
But think not thus; unseen awhile
Yon absent moon may shine,
Yet still the skies possess her smile
As Fancy treasures thine!

Not in an hour so chill and drear
Thy distant friend recall,
But when the social banquet’s glare
Spreads in thy bridal hall:
Or when on Malta’s mirthful strand
Thy evening footsteps rest,
While many a top-sail, dimly-scann’d,
Glides thro’ the purple west.

Yet no; when Love and Joy are near
The anxious thought repress:
Thy friend would blame the briefest tear
Which made thy banquet less.
And he who claims thee, ill would spare
One hour from Pleasure’s shrine;
The eye of Love could never bear
To see a cloud in thine!