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SONGS OF FAREWELL.
PARTING.

"They that my trust must grow to, dwell not here,
They are with all my other comforts,
Far hence."



Oh! speak of me, my friends! when I am gone
Bind with my name some old familiar strain,
That it may bear a greeting on its tone
From One, heart-woven with its linkèd chain.

For I will speak of you! your names will rise
When the full heart would of its treasure tell,
And I will seek in stranger looks and eyes
To trace the aspects I have loved so well.

Oh! think of me, my friends! when I am gone
Let not my memory lightly pass away,
With pleasant songs forgotten—or as one
A stranger-guest, abiding but a day.

For I will think of you! a purer ray
Will gild Life's journey, flung from times of old,
And Thought will reckon o'er, when far away,
Their gentle memories—its hoarded gold.