Verse > Anthologies > Francis T. Palgrave, ed. > The Golden Treasury
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Francis T. Palgrave, ed. (1824–1897). The Golden Treasury.  1875.
 
T. Moore
 
CCXXI. The Journey Onwards
 
AS slow our ship her foamy track 
  Against the wind was cleaving, 
Her trembling pennant still look'd back 
  To that dear isle 'twas leaving. 
So loth we part from all we love,         5
  From all the links that bind us; 
So turn our hearts, as on we rove, 
  To those we've left behind us! 
  
When, round the bowl, of vanish'd years 
  We talk with joyous seeming—  10
With smiles that might as well be tears, 
  So faint, so sad their beaming; 
While memory brings us back again 
  Each early tie that twined us, 
Oh, sweet's the cup that circles then  15
  To those we've left behind us! 
  
And when, in other climes, we meet 
  Some isle or vale enchanting, 
Where all looks flowery, wild, and sweet, 
  And nought but love is wanting;  20
We think how great had been our bliss 
  If Heaven had but assign'd us 
To live and die in scenes like this, 
  With some we've left behind us! 
  
As travellers oft look back at eve  25
  When eastward darkly going, 
To gaze upon that light they leave 
  Still faint behind them glowing,— 
So, when the close of pleasure's day 
  To gloom hath near consign'd us,  30
We turn to catch one fading ray 
  Of joy that's left behind us. 
 
 
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