318
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.
A PARTING SONG.
"Oh! mes Amis, rappelez vous quelquefois mes vers; mon ame y est empreinte."—Corinne.
When will ye think of me, my friends?
When will ye think of me?—
When the last red light, the farewell of day,
From the rock and the river is passing away,
When the air with a deep'ning hush is fraught,
And the heart grows burden'd with tender thought—
Then let it be!
