Classic Poem

Oh! thou my early friend, alone
Shalt listen to its farewell tone;
For thou canst tell what tremors start,
How bounds, how reels, how sinks the heart,
When friends, long join'd, are doom'd to part;
Their meeting all unknown.
Friends, whose warm passions, thoughts, and cares,
Were known, and felt, and loved so well,
They seem'd within our souls to dwell;
Our souls the life of theirs.
Then canst thou well my heart explore,
As here I hush the long loved lyre;
As here the songs of youth are o'er,
And all their light and mirth expire.
We part: — or if we cannot bring
Ourselves to perfect severing,
Yet must the clinging spirit rest,
Entomb'd and silent, in my breast.
For scenes far different wait me now
Than streamy dell, or mountain's brow:
And oh! I would not carry there
The minstrel's thought, the minstrel's air.