Poetry Archives

Adieu to kindred hearts and home,
 To pleasure, joy, and mirth,
A fitter foot than mine to roam
 Could scarcely tread the earth;
For they are now so few indeed
 (Not more than three in all),
Who e’er will think of me or heed
 What fate may me befall.

For I through pleasure’s paths have run
 My headlong goal to win,
Nor pleasure’s snares have cared to shun
 When pleasure sweetened sin.
Let those who will their failings mask,
 To mine I frankly own;
But for them pardon will I ask
 Of none—save Heaven alone.

From carping friends I turn aside;
 At foes defiance frown;
Yet time may tame my stubborn pride,
 And break my spirit down.
Still, if to error I incline,
 Truth whispers comfort strong,
That never reckless act of mine
 E’er worked a comrade wrong.

My mother is a stately dame,
 Who oft would chide with me;
She saith my riot bringeth shame,
 And stains my pedigree.
I’d reck not what my friends might know,
 Or what the world might say,
Did I but think some tears would flow
 When I am far away.

Perchance my mother will recall
 My mem’ry with a sigh;
My gentle sister’s tears may fall,
 And dim her laughing eye;
Perhaps a loving thought may gleam,
 And fringe its saddened ray,
When, like a nightmare’s troubled dream,
 I, outcast, pass away.

Then once again farewell to those
 Whoe’er for me have sighed;
For pleasures melt away like snows,
 And hopes like shadows glide.
Adieu, my mother! if no more
 Thy son’s face thou may’st see,
At least those many cares are o’er
 So ofttimes caused by me.

My lot is fixed!  The die is cast!
 For me home hath no joy!
Oh, pardon then all follies past,
 And bless your wayward boy!
And thou, from whom for aye to part
 Grieves more than tongue can tell,
May Heaven preserve thy guileless heart,
 Sweet sister, fare thee well!

Thou, too, whose loving-kindness makes
 My resolution less,
While from the bitter past it takes
 One half its bitterness,
If e’er you held my mem’ry dear,
 Grant this request, I pray—
Give to that mem’ry one bright tear,
 And let it pass away.