"Farewell!" Another gloomy word
As ever into language crept.
'Tis often written, never heard,
In playhouse. Ere the hero flits,
In handcuffs, from our pitying view.
"Farewell!" he murmurs, then exits
"Farewell" is much too sighful for
An age that has not time to sigh.
We say, "I'll see you later," or
When, warned by chanticleer, you go
From her to whom you owe devoir,
"Say not 'good by,'" she laughs, "but
Thus from the garden are you sped;
And Juliet were the first to tell
You, you were silly if you said
"Farewell," meant long ago, before
It crept, tear-spattered, into song,
"Safe voyage!" "Pleasant journey!" or
But gone its cheery, old-time ring;
The poets made it rhyme with knell,
Joined it became a dismal thing,
"Farewell!" into the lover's soul
You see Fate plunge the fatal iron.
All poets use it. It's the whole
"I only feel, farewell!" said he;
And always fearful was the telling,
Lord Byron was eternally
"Farewell!" A dismal word, 'tis true
(And why not tell the truth about it!);
But what on earth would poets do