Celia Thaxter

Farewell

THE crimson sunset faded into gray;
    Upon the murmurous sea the twilight fell;
The last warm breath of the delicious day
         Passed with a mute farewell.
 
Above my head, in the soft purple sky,
    A wild note sounded like a shrill-voiced bell;
Three gulls met, wheeled, and parted with a cry
         That seemed to say, “Farewell!”
 
I watched them: one sailed east, and one soared west,
    And one went floating south; while like a knell
That mournful cry the empty sky possessed,
     “Farewell, farewell, farewell!”
 
“Farewell!” I thought, it is the earth’s one speech;
    All human voices the sad chorus swell;
Though mighty Love to heaven’s high gate may reach,
         Yet must he say, “Farewell!”
 
The rolling world is girdled with the sound,
    Perpetually breathed from all who dwell
Upon its bosom, for no place is found
         Where is not heard, “Farewell!”
 
“Farewell, farewell!” —from wave to wave 't is tossed,
    From wind to wind: earth has one tale to tell;
All other sounds are dulled and drowned and lost
         In this one cry, “Farewell!”
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