Poems (Blake)/L'Envoi

by Mary Elizabeth Blake

For works with similar titles, see L'Envoi.

L'ENVOI.

As some dear friend to other climes departing,
 Holding the hands of one he loveth well,
Looks in his eyes while silent tears are starting,
 And without words they breathe a mute farewell,—

So ere the Spring across the mountains flying
 Wakes the gray earth from silence and repose,
Let us draw near the hoary monarch dying,
 And bid good-by to Winter ere he goes.

Think when he came, his royal robes around him,
 Grand in his strength and glorious in his might,
Minstrel and bard with song and welcome crowned him,
 And shall he go without a word to-night?

Then was he strange, no single grief or pleasure
 Bound to our lives his presence like a spell;
Now, when he holds our memory's dearest treasure,
 Shall we forget to bless and say farewell?

Nay! for though fast the Future's ties may bind us,
 Fair with the light her witcheries may cast,
She cannot hide the tender gloom behind us,
 She cannot hush the whispers of the Past.

Yet as we bend to pluck the opening flowers,
 We'll think of one, though faded all more dear,
And while we touch glad chords in joyous hours,
 Some broken echo sweeter still we hear.

For in life's paths of honor and of duty
 Each day fulfills the promise of the last,
He best may hope to win the future's beauty,
 Who best has kept the treasures of the past.

So ere the Spring across the mountains flying
 Wakes the grim earth from silence and repose,
Let us draw near the hoary monarch dying,
 And say farewell to Winter ere he goes.