Quotes about farewell, page 8
Villanelle
We said farewell, my youth and I,
When all fair dreams were gone or going,
And Love’s red lips were cold and dry.
When white blooms fell from tree-tops high—
Our Austral winter’s way of snowing—
We said farewell, my youth and I.
We did not sigh—what use to sigh
When Death passed as a mower mowing,
And Love’s red lips were cold and dry?
But hearing Life’s stream thunder by,
That sang of old through flowers flowing,
We said farewell, my youth and I.
There was no hope in the blue sky,
No music in the low winds blowing,
And Love’s red lips were cold and dry.
My hair is black as yet, then why
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poem by Victor James Daley
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"Glide soft, ye Silver Floods"
Glide soft, ye silver floods,
And every spring:
Within the shady woods
Let no bird sing!
Nor from the grove a turtle-dove
Be seen to couple with her love;
But silence on each dale and mountain dwell,
Whilst Willy bids his friend and joy farewell.
But (of great Thetis' train)
Ye mermaids fair,
That on the shores do plain
Your sea-green hair,
As ye in trammels knit your locks,
Weep ye; and so enforce the rocks
In heavy murmurs through the broad shores tell
How Willy bade his friend and joy farewell.
Cease, cease, ye murd'ring winds,
To move a wave;
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poem by William Browne
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Farewell Address at the Argyle Hall
Fellow Citizens of Dundee.
I now must bid farewell to ye.
For I am going to London far away.
But when I will return again I cannot say.
Farewell! Farewell! to the bonnie banks o' the Silvery Tay.
Also the beautiful Hill o' Balgay.
And the ill fated Bridge o' the Silvery Tay.
Which I will remember when I am far away.
Farewell! to my friends and, patrons all.
That rallied around me in the Music Hall.
And those that has rallied around me to night,
I shall not forget when out of sight.
And, if I ever return to Dundee again,
I hope it will be with the laurels of fame.
Plac'd on my brow by dame fortune that fickle Jade.
And, to Court her favour I am not afraid.
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poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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Bound for Sourabaya!
OH, the moon shines bright, and we sail to-night,
And we’re bound for Sourabaya!
So it’s ‘Farewell, Jane!’ for we’re off again
With the turning of the tide!
Oh, the Java girls haven’t got no curls,
But they’ll meet us on the Praya,
And, Malay or Dutch, well, the odds ain’t much,
And the ocean’s deep and wide!
We’re bound for Sourabaya, boys,
Where the girls are kind and brown!
By the break of day we’ll be far away!
Farewell to Sydney town!
Oh, the girls look glum, when the parting’s come,
And we’re bound for Sourabaya!
And they weep and wail, cos’ the ship must sail
With the turning of the tide!
But we soon forget, when our sheets are wet
And the dancing dolphins play—ah,
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poem by Charles Henry Souter
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My Farewell
My farewell is a long one, I just have a lot to say.
Farewell to all of my teachers, you have taught me well.
You have taught me to grow with the world and with society.
You have taught me everything I know, and I say 'Thank you! '
My farewell goes to all of my friends,
You have been great throughout the years.
You have taught me a lot about life.
You have been there through the hatred and the love,
Through the ups and the downs,
Through thick and thin,
You have proved yourselves worthy of being true friends.
And I just want to say, 'I love you all! '
My Farewell goes to my parents.
You have also taught me well.
You are the ones who taught me how to credit others that I love and care
about. You sat with me in the doctors office through those painful shots.
You have been through hell and back with me, literally.
You have seen me grow from a little girl to the woman that I am today.
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poem by Shannon Monroe
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Farewell to London
Dear, damn'd distracting town, farewell!
Thy fools no more I'll tease:
This year in peace, ye critics, dwell,
Ye harlots, sleep at ease!
Soft B-- and rough C--s adieu,
Earl Warwick made your moan,
The lively H--k and you
May knock up whores alone.
To drink and droll be Rowe allow'd
Till the third watchman's toll;
Let Jervas gratis paint, and Frowde
Save three-pence and his soul.
Farewell, Arbuthnot's raillery
On every learned sot;
And Garth, the best good Christian he,
Although he knows it not.
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poem by Alexander Pope
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Farewell To England (A Ballad For The Emigrant)
England, farewell! - not lightly, nor gladly,
Now, at the last, do I bid thee farewell!
Hope may be smiling, but Memory sadly
Weeps for awhile in the penitent's cell:
Yet, O my country! I dare not regret thee;
Providence calls me to come from thy shore;
And, though my spirit shall never forget thee,
England, farewell! - I return nevermore!
'Go to replenish the earth, and subdue it,-
Seek a new country,- seek a new home;'
Never shall doubtfulness make my heart rue it;
God will be with me, wherever I roam!
Duty, and zeal, and need, and ambition,
Drove and persuaded my faith to go forth,-
And, if I fail in my emigrant mission,
Lo! I will fail at the ends of the earth!
England, farewell! With Goodness to guide me,
Pilgrim and stranger, I sail for the South,-
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poem by Martin Farquhar Tupper
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August
This was its promise, held to faithfully:
The early morning sun came in this way
Until the angle of its saffron beam
Between the curtains and the sofa lay,
And with its ochre heat it spread across
The village houses, and the nearby wood,
Upon my bed and on my dampened pillow
And to the corner where the bookcase stood.
Then I recalled the reason why my pillow
Had been so dampened by those tears that fell-
I'd dreamt I saw you coming one by one
Across the wood to wish me your farewell.
You came in ones and twos, a straggling crowd;
Then suddenly someone mentioned a word:
It was the sixth of August, by Old Style,
And the Transfiguration of Our Lord.
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poem by Boris Pasternak
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The Death Of A Good Man.....(A Tribute To President Attah Mills)
A place of tears and sorrow life is.......
A frightening and passing dream life is....
A tear dropp in the eye of infinity life is...
A borrowed gift life is....
Death is a sun smiling down on men,
Men has no choice than to smile back at the sun,
men are nothing but dust and ashes,
Dust to dust, ashes to ashes,
Men are nothing but flowers which blossoms at sunrise,
But fades at sunset.
I never knew he would begone that day,
I never knew i won't see him again,
Why will our lives be borrowed?
Only to be taken away at the lenders will,
Why will the good ones always die?
Why are the mighty always falling?
Why is life such a place of agony?
Does this life worth one good man's life?
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poem by Livinus weeping poet Okechukwu
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The Creeds Of The Bells
How sweet the chime of the Sabbath bells!
Each one its creed in music tells
In tones that float upon the air
As soft as song, as sweet as prayer,
And I will put in simple rhyme
The language of the golden chime.
My happy heart with rapture swells
Responsive to the bells, sweet bells.
'Ye purifying waters swell!'
In mellow tones rang out a bell;
'Though faith alone in Christ can save,
Man must be plunged beneath the wave,
To show the world unfaltering faith
In what the Sacred Scripture saith;
Oh, well! ye rising water, swell!'
Pealed out the clear-toned Baptist bell.
'O, heed the ancient landmarks well!'
In solemn tones exclaimed a bell.
'No progress made by mortal man
Can change the just, eternal plan;
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poem by Anonymous Americas
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