Verse > Anthologies > Andrew Macphail, ed. > The Book of Sorrow
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Andrew Macphail, comp.  The Book of Sorrow.  1916.
 
XIII. Farewell
From ‘Life’
By Anna Letitia Barbauld (1743–1825)
 
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LIFE! I know not what thou art,
But know that thou and I must part;
And when, or how, or where we met
I own to me ’s a secret yet.
But this I know, when thou art fled,        5
Where’er they lay these limbs, this head,
No clod so valueless shall be
As all that then remains of me….
 
Life! we’ve been long together
Through pleasant and through cloudy weather;        10
  ’Tis hard to part when friends are dear—
  Perhaps ’twill cost a sigh, a tear;
—Then steal away, give little warning,
Choose thine own time;
Say not Good-night,—but in some brighter clime        15
  Bid me Good-morning.
 
 
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