And this is the end of it all!
It rounds the years completeness,
Though only a walk to the stile
Through fields a-foam with sweetness.
Only the sunset light,
Purple and red on the river,
Only a calm 'good night,'
That means good bye forever!

I can only go back to my simple ways—
To my homely household cares;
And yet,—and yet—in after days
I shall think of you in my prayers.
We can bear so much in youth;
Who cares for a swift sharp pain?
The two-edged sword of truth
Cuts deep, but leaves no stain,
And over the ways we have trod together,
My foot shall fall as lightly,
As though my heart were a feather.

Only a woman's heart, strong to have and to keep;
Patient when children cry,
Soft to lull them to sleep;
Glad when another delving hand
Finds a gem to wear on the breast,
While hers found only sand;
Good bye, but as oft as the blossoms come,
The peach with its waxen pink,
The waving snow of the plum;
I shall think how I used to wait
And watch—so happy to see you pass,
I could almost kiss your shadow
As it fell on the dewy grass.
A love is but half a love,
That contents itself with less
Than love's utmost faith and truth
And love's unwavering tenderness.

Only this walk to the stile—
This parting word by the river;
It seems to me whatever shall go or come—
Memory shall hold forever!
Sweetheart, good bye, good bye,
After all—drear poverty and toil
For the rich, red flower of love to grow,
Were but a cold and barren soil:
And so, good bye, good bye!