Farewells

They are so sad to say: no poem tells

The agony of hearts that dwells

In lone and last farewells.

They are like deaths: they bring a wintry chill

To summer's roses, and to summer's rill;

And yet we breathe them still.

For pure as altar-lights hearts pass away;

Hearts! we said to them, “Stay with us! stay!”

And they said, sighing as they said it, “Nay.”

The sunniest days are shortest; darkness tells

The starless story of the night that dwells

In lone and last farewells.

Two faces meet here, there, or anywhere:

Each wears the thoughts the other face may wear;

Their hearts may break, breathing, “Farewell fore'er.”