The mystic berry from the Druid's tree,
Or limpet from the rock, more easily,
Or ivy from its mated wall, shall part,
Than man from whom he loves, than heart from heart.
Oh the wild ecstasy! the wildering pain!
To bid adieu; and know that ne'er again
The hand you hold, the loving voice you hear,
Shall grasp your own on earth, or charm your ear:
The lingering clasp of the last fond embrace;
The lingering gaze on the fast fading face;
The faltering tongue; the frozen memory;
The stunning sense of lonely misery;--
Ah, who shall ever find the words to tell
The agony of those that take a last farewell?