A Farewell

Remember me and smile, as smiling too,

        I have remembered things that went their way--

        The dolls with which I grew too wise to play--

Or over-wise--kissed, as children do,

And so dismissed them; yes, even as you

        Have done with this poor piece of painted clay--

        Not wantonly, but wisely, shall we say?

As one who, haply, tunes his heart anew.



Only I wish her eyes may not be blue,

        The eyes of a new angel. Ah! she may

Miss something that I found,--perhaps the clue

To those long silences of yours, which grew

        Into one word. And should she not be gay,

        Poor lady! Well, she too must have her day.

Copyright © by Charlotte Mew

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