html.skin-theme-clientpref-night @media(prefers-color-scheme:dark){html.skin-theme-clientpref-os }S it not strange, some simple word,
That scarcely o'er the senses stole,
Yet seems to touch a mystic chord,
Which vibrates through the inmost soul?
Yes, tones that lightly met the ear,
May thrill the heart with joy or pain;
And Hope's gay smile or Memory's tear,
A word may wake to life again.
But, oh! of all the sounds impressed,
With piercing power no tongue can tell,
There's none more deeply wrings the breast
Than that one touching word, Farewell!
Farewell! how oft those accents seem
To break affection's blessed sleep!
To start the spirit from her dream,
And wake the lonely heart to weep!
For, oh! that feeling is so drear,
When those we dearly love are gone;—
A moment past, and they were here,
But now we're left to weep alone.
Yet, when the parting hour draws nigh.
When struggling griefs each bosom swell,
What heart, though bursting, ere could fly
The last embrace, the wept Farewell?
Oh, yes! if we must part again
From those on earth we hold most dear,
There's mournful pleasure 'mid the pain
Of fond affection's parting tear.
Yet still that word, so fraught with gloom,
Must pierce the heart with lightning power,
Until that blissful time be come
When all shall breathe "Farewell" no more.
E.