Farewell to his Wife

Fare thee well! and if forever, Still forever, fare thee well; Even though unforgiving, never ’Gainst thee shall my heart rebel. Would that breast were bared before thee Where thy head so oft hath lain, While that placid sleep came o’er thee Which thou ne’er canst know again: Would that breast, by thee glanced over, Every inmost thought could show! Then thou wouldst at last discover ’T was not well to spurn it so. Though the world for this commend thee,— Though it smile upon the blow, Even its praises must offend thee, Founded on another’s woe: Though my many faults defaced me, Could no other arm be found Than the one which once embraced me, To inflict a cureless wound? Yet, O, yet thyself deceived not: Love may sink by slow decay; But by sudden wrench, believe not Hearts can thus be torn away: Still thy own its life retaineth,— Still must mine, though bleeding, beat; And the undying thought which paineth Is—that we no more may meet. These are words of deeper sorrow Than the wail above the dead; Both shall live, but every morrow Wake us from a widowed bed. And when thou wouldst solace gather, When our child’s first accents flow, Wilt thou teach her to say “Father!” Though his care she must forego? When her little hands shall press thee, When her lip to thine is pressed, Think of him whose prayer shall bless thee, Think of him thy love had blessed! Should her lineaments resemble Those thou nevermore mayst see, Then thy heart will softly tremble With a pulse yet true to me. All my faults perchance thou knowest, All my madness none can know; All my hopes, where’er thou goest, Wither, yet with thee they go. Every feeling hath been shaken; Pride, which not a world could bow, Bows to thee,—by thee forsaken, Even my soul forsakes me now; But ’t is done; all words are idle,— Words from me are vainer still; But the thoughts we cannot bridle Force their way without the will. Fare thee well!—thus disunited, Torn from every nearer tie, Seared in heart, and lone, and blighted, More than this I scarce can die.

Collection: 
Sub Title: 
II. Parting and Absence

More from Poet

  • From “Childe Harold,” Canto III. THERE sunk the greatest, nor the worst of men, Whose spirit antithetically mixed One moment of the mightiest, and again On little objects with like firmness fixed, Extreme in all things! hadst thou been betwixt, Thy throne had still been thine, or...

  • Eternal spirit of the chainless mind! Brightest in dungeons, Liberty! thou art, For there thy habitation is the heart,— The heart which love of thee alone can bind; And when thy sons to fetters are consigned,— To fetters, and the damp vault’s dayless gloom,— Their country conquers with their...

  • [June 15, 1815] From “Childe Harold,” Canto III. THERE was a sound of revelry by night, And Belgium’s capital had gathered then Her beauty and her chivalry, and bright The lamps shone o’er fair women and brave men; A thousand hearts beat happily; and when Music arose with its...

  • From “Hebrew Melodies” THE ASSYRIAN came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee. Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green, That host with...

  • From “Don Juan,” Canto III. THE ISLES of Greece, the isles of Greece! Where burning Sappho loved and sung, Where grew the arts of war and peace, Where Delos rose, and Phœbus sprung! Eternal summer gilds them yet; But all, except their sun, is set. The Scian and the Teian muse, The hero’s...