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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