MARI MAGNO.
441
But yours he is by right—the grief I'll bear,
And at his age, more easy he can spare,
Perhaps, a mother's than a father's care.
Indeed I think him like his father, too;
He will be happier, probably, with you.
'Tis best, I know, nor will he quite forget,
Some day he'll come perhaps and see his mother yet.
'O heaven! farewell—perhaps I've been to blame
To write as if it all were still the same.
Farewell, write not.—I will not seek to know
Whether you ever think of me or no.'
O love, love, love, too late! the tears fell down.
He dried them up—and slowly walked to town.
And at his age, more easy he can spare,
Perhaps, a mother's than a father's care.
Indeed I think him like his father, too;
He will be happier, probably, with you.
'Tis best, I know, nor will he quite forget,
Some day he'll come perhaps and see his mother yet.
'O heaven! farewell—perhaps I've been to blame
To write as if it all were still the same.
Farewell, write not.—I will not seek to know
Whether you ever think of me or no.'
O love, love, love, too late! the tears fell down.
He dried them up—and slowly walked to town.
To bed with busy thoughts; the following day
Bore us expectant into Boston Bay;
With dome and steeple on the yellow skies,
Upon the left we watched with curious eyes
The Puritan great Mother City rise.
Among the islets, winding in and round,
The great ship moved to her appointed ground.
We bade adieu, shook hands and went ashore:
I and my friend have seen our friends no more.
Bore us expectant into Boston Bay;
With dome and steeple on the yellow skies,
Upon the left we watched with curious eyes
The Puritan great Mother City rise.
Among the islets, winding in and round,
The great ship moved to her appointed ground.
We bade adieu, shook hands and went ashore:
I and my friend have seen our friends no more.
