"Farewell! But Whenever You Welcome The Hour"
by Thomas Moore
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 brighen'd 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 murmur'd, "I wish he were here!"
Let fate do her worst, there are relics of joy,
Bright dreams of the past, which she cannot destroy;
And which come, in the night-time sorrow and care,
To bring back the features that joy used to wear.
Long, long be my heart with such memories fill'd!
Like the vase in which roses have once been distill'd -
You may break, you may ruin the vase, if you will,
But the scent of the roses will hang round it still.