Volume 10 / Part 1 — FAREWELL

"Farewell!" Another gloomy word As ever into language crept. 'Tis often written, never heard, Except In playhouse. Ere the hero flits— In handcuffs—from our pitying view. "Farewell!" he murmurs, then exits R.U. "Farewell" is much too sighful for An age that has not time to sigh. We say, "I'll see you later," or "Good-by!" When, warned by chanticleer, you go From her to whom you owe devoir, "Say not 'good-by,'" she laughs, "but 'Au Revoir!'" Thus from the garden are you sped; And Juliet were the first to tell You, you were silly if you said "Farewell!" "Farewell," meant long ago, before It crept, tear-spattered, into song, "Safe voyage!" "Pleasant journey!" or "So long!" But gone its cheery, old-time ring; The poets made it rhyme with knell— Joined it became a dismal thing— "Farewell!" "Farewell!" into the lover's soul You see Fate plunge the fatal iron. All poets use it. It's the whole Of Byron. "I only feel—farewell!" said he; And always fearful was the telling— Lord Byron was eternally Farewelling. "Farewell!" A dismal word, 'tis true (And why not tell the truth about it!); But what on earth would poets do Without it?