Vale

Good-bye, sweet friend, good-bye,
And all the world must be
Between my friend and me;
And nothing is, dear heart,
But hands that meet to part;
Good-bye, sweet friend, good-bye.

Good-bye, sweet love, good-bye,
And one long grave must be
Between my love and me;
What comfort there, dear heart,
For hands that meet to part?
Good-bye, sweet love, good-bye.

Dora Sigerson Shorter

Dora Sigerson Shorter was an Irish poet and sculptor born in Dublin in 1866. She was one of the leading figures of the Irish Literary Revival, a movement that aimed to promote Irish literature and culture in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. She was also a close friend of W.B. Yeats and married the writer and journalist Clement King Shorter. Dora's work often dealt with themes of Irish nationalism and folklore, and she published several volumes of poetry before her untimely death in 1918.

Dora Sigerson Shorter

The Scallop Shell

Dora Sigerson Shorter, Simple Poetry

An Imperfect Revolution

Dora Sigerson Shorter, Simple Poetry

Sanctuary

Dora Sigerson Shorter, Simple Poetry

The Ballad Of The Fairy Thorn-Tree

Dora Sigerson Shorter, Simple Poetry

English

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For Ever

He heard it first upon the lips of love,
        And loved it for loves sake;
A faithful word, that knows nor time nor change,
        Nor lone heart-break.

It sung across his heart-strings like a breath
        Of Heavens faithfulness, that whispered Never
To part, to lose, to linger from your gaze.
        She said, I love for ever.

He heard it then upon the lips of death,
        Of things that fade and die;
A word of sorrow never to be stilled,
        An ever echoing sigh.

And loneliness within his soul did dwell,
        And struck upon his heart-strings, crying Never
To meet, to have, to hold, to see again.
        She said, Good-bye for ever.

Dora Sigerson Shorter

The Lover

I go through wet spring woods alone,
Through sweet green woods with heart of stone,
My weary foot upon the grass
Falls heavy as I pass.
The cuckoo from the distance cries,
The lark a pilgrim in the skies;
But all the pleasant spring is drear.
I want you, dear!

I pass the summer meadows by,
The autumn poppies bloom and die;
I speak alone so bitterly
For no voice answers me.
O lovers parting by the gate,
O robin singing to your mate,
Plead you well, for she will hear
I love you, dear!

I crouch alone, unsatisfied,
Mourning by winters fireside.
O Fate, what evil wind you blow.
Must this be so?
No southern breezes come to bless,
So conscious of their emptiness
My lonely arms I spread in woe,
I want you so.

Dora Sigerson Shorter

Good-Bye.

(To Miss E E.)


I cannot write, my tears are flowing fast,
    Yet weeping is unnatural to me;
Oh! that this hour of bitterness was past--
    The parting hour with all I love and thee

If I had never met or loved thee so,
    To part would not have caused me this sharp pain;
Parting so oft occurring here below,
    And they who part so seldom meet again.

Yet over land or sea, where'er I go,
    My home, my friends, shall flit before my eyes--
And oft I anxiously shall wish to know,
    If in thy bosom thoughts of me arise.

Oh, I will think of bygone days of glee,
    Though on each point of bitter sorrow driven;
I will not bid thee to remember me,
    But oh! see to it that we meet in Heaven.

1844.

Nora Pembroke

A Man's Good-Bye

Do you think, dear, as you say
Such a light good-bye to-day,
That this parting time may be
Mayhaps less to you, than me?

What a wonder of surprise
Looks out from your sunny eyes.
'Just a nice acquaintance.'    So
We have called it, dear, I know.

Now you end it with a word,
While my inmost soul is stirred.
No -you cannot understand.
But, dear, as I touch your hand,

Listening to your light good-bye,
All a man's roused passions cry
Like a tiger, stirred, at bay.
Oh! you draw your hand away.

'I've no right to speak so?'    Pray
Was it your right day by day
By your sweet coquettish arts
To invade my heart of hearts?

It is death to let you go.
You will hate me, dear, I know;
But I swear, ere you go h...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Wife To Husband

Pardon the faults in me,
    For the love of years ago:
    Good-bye.
I must drift across the sea,
    I must sink into the snow,
    I must die.

You can bask in this sun,
    You can drink wine, and eat:
    Good-bye.
I must gird myself and run,
    Though with unready feet:
    I must die.

Blank sea to sail upon,
    Cold bed to sleep in:
    Good-bye.
While you clasp, I must be gone
    For all your weeping:
    I must die.

A kiss for one friend,
    And a word for two,--
    Good-bye:--
A lock that you must send,
    A kindness you must do:
    I must die.

Not a word for you,
    Not a lock or kiss,
    Good-bye.
We, one, must part in two;
    Verily death is this:
   ...

Christina Georgina Rossetti

Isabel

Fare-thee-well:
On my soul the toll of bell
Trembles. Thou art calmly sleeping
While my weary heart is weeping:
I cannot listen to thy knell:
Fare-thee-well.

Sleep and rest:
Sorrow shall not pain thy breast,
Pangs and pains that pierce the mortal
Cannot enter at the portal
Of the Mansion of the Blest:
Sleep and rest.

Slumber sweet,
Heart that nevermore will beat
At the footsteps of thy lover;
All thy cares and fears are over.
In thy silent winding-sheet
Slumber sweet.

Fare-thee-well:
In the garden and the dell
Where thou lov'dst to stroll and meet me,
Nevermore thy kiss shall greet me,
Nevermore, O Isabel!
Fare-thee-well.

We shall meet
Where the wings of angels beat:
When my toils and ca...

Hanford Lennox Gordon