Poems (Larcom)/The Farewell
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For works with similar titles, see The Farewell.
THE FAREWELL.
NOW ends the hour's communion, near and high:
We have heard whispers from the mountain's heart,
And life henceforth is nobler. With a sigh
Of grateful sadness, let us now depart,
And seek our lower levels. Rills that start
From this Hill's bosom, there reflect the sky;
And his deep shadows greener grace impart
To the sweet vale which doth below him lie.
One farewell glance from far. The hills are fled!
Hid in the folds of yon funereal cloud.
A moment leans the Loftiest from his shroud:—
"Our thunders cleanse the valley," lo, he saith:"
'T is not alone by smiles that life is fed:
Awe fills the sanctuary of deep faith."
We have heard whispers from the mountain's heart,
And life henceforth is nobler. With a sigh
Of grateful sadness, let us now depart,
And seek our lower levels. Rills that start
From this Hill's bosom, there reflect the sky;
And his deep shadows greener grace impart
To the sweet vale which doth below him lie.
One farewell glance from far. The hills are fled!
Hid in the folds of yon funereal cloud.
A moment leans the Loftiest from his shroud:—
"Our thunders cleanse the valley," lo, he saith:"
'T is not alone by smiles that life is fed:
Awe fills the sanctuary of deep faith."