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Best Famous Farewell Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Farewell poems. This is a select list of the best famous Farewell poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Farewell poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of farewell poems.

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by Alfred Lord Tennyson | |

Crossing the Bar

Sunset and evening star, 
And one clear call for me! 
And may there be no moaning of the bar, 
When I put out to sea, 

But such a tide as moving seems asleep, 
Too full for sound and foam, 
When that which drew from out the boundless deep 
Turns again home.
Twilight and evening bell, And after that the dark! And may there be no sadness of farewell, When I embark; For though from out our bourne of Time and Place The flood may bear me far, I hope to see my Pilot face to face When I have crossed the bar.


by Wang Wei | |

TO QIWU QIAN BOUND HOME AFTER FAILING IN AN EXAMINATION

In a happy reign there should be no hermits; 
The wise and able should consult together.
.
.
.
So you, a man of the eastern mountains, Gave up your life of picking herbs And came all the way to the Gate of Gold -- But you found your devotion unavailing.
.
.
.
To spend the Day of No Fire on one of the southern rivers, You have mended your spring clothes here in these northern cities.
I pour you the farewell wine as you set out from the capital -- Soon I shall be left behind here by my bosomfriend.
In your sail-boat of sweet cinnamon-wood You will float again toward your own thatch door, Led along by distant trees To a sunset shining on a far-away town.
.
.
.
What though your purpose happened to fail, Doubt not that some of us can hear high music.


by | |

On Elizabeth L. H.

 Epitaphs: i


WOULDST thou hear what Man can say 
In a little? Reader stay.
Underneath this stone doth lie As much Beauty as could die: Which in life did harbour give 5 To more Virtue than doth live.
If at all she had a fault Leave it buried in this vault.
One name was Elizabeth The other let it sleep with death: 10 Fitter where it died to tell Than that it lived at all.
Farewell.


by Wang Wei | |

Farewell

 I have got my leave.
Bid me farewell, my brothers! I bow to you all and take my departure.
Here I give back the keys of my door ---and I give up all claims to my house.
I only ask for last kind words from you.
We were neighbors for long, but I received more than I could give.
Now the day has dawned and the lamp that lit my dark corner is out.
A summons has come and I am ready for my journey.


by Wang Wei | |

Farewell

 FAREWELL, and when forth
I through the Golden Gates to Golden Isles
Steer without smiling, through the sea of smiles,
Isle upon isle, in the seas of the south,
Isle upon island, sea upon sea,
Why should I sail, why should the breeze?
I have been young, and I have counted friends.
A hopeless sail I spread, too late, too late.
Why should I from isle to isle Sail, a hopeless sailor?


by Wang Wei | |

Farewell to Hsin Chien at Hibiscus Pavilion

 A cold rain mingled with the river
at evening, when I entered Wu;
In the clear dawn I bid you farewell,
lonely as Ch'u Mountain.
My kinsfolk in Loyang, should they ask about me, Tell them: "My heart is a piece of ice in a jade cup!"


by Wang Wei | |

To Qiwu Qian Bound Home After Failing an Examination.

 In a happy reign there should be no hermits; 
The wise and able should consult together.
.
.
.
So you, a man of the eastern mountains, Gave up your life of picking herbs And came all the way to the Gate of Gold -- But you found your devotion unavailing.
.
.
.
To spend the Day of No Fire on one of the southern rivers, You have mended your spring clothes here in these northern cities.
I pour you the farewell wine as you set out from the capital -- Soon I shall be left behind here by my bosomfriend.
In your sail-boat of sweet cinnamon-wood You will float again toward your own thatch door, Led along by distant trees To a sunset shining on a far-away town.
.
.
.
What though your purpose happened to fail, Doubt not that some of us can hear high music.


by Wang Wei | |

Farewell (II)

 Hill at mutual escort stop
Day dusk shut wood door
Spring grass next year green
Prince offspring return not return

We bid each other farewell beside the hill,
As day meets dusk, I close the wooden gate.
Next year, in spring, there will be green grass again, But will my honoured friend return?


by Wang Wei | |

Farewell

 Farewell to the bushy clump close to the river
And the flags where the butter-bump hides in forever;
Farewell to the weedy nook, hemmed in by waters;
Farewell to the miller's brook and his three bonny daughters;
Farewell to them all while in prison I lie—
In the prison a thrall sees naught but the sky.
Shut out are the green fields and birds in the bushes; In the prison yard nothing builds, blackbirds or thrushes.
Farewell to the old mill and dash of waters, To the miller and, dearer still, to his three bonny daughters.
In the nook, the larger burdock grows near the green willow; In the flood, round the moor-cock dashes under the billow; To the old mill farewell, to the lock, pens, and waters, To the miller himsel', and his three bonny daughters.


by Constantine P Cavafy | |

Envoys From Alexandria

 They had not seen, for ages, such beautiful gifts in Delphi
as these that had been sent by the two brothers,
the rival Ptolemaic kings.
After they had received them however, the priests were uneasy about the oracle.
They will need all their experience to compose it with astuteness, which of the two, which of such two will be displeased.
And they hold secret councils at night and discuss the family affairs of the Lagidae.
But see, the envoys have returned.
They are bidding farewell.
They are returning to Alexandria, they say.
And they do not ask for any oracle.
And the priests hear this with joy (of course they will keep the marvellous gifts), but they also are utterly perplexed, not understanding what this sudden indifference means.
For they are unaware that yesterday the envoys received grave news.
The oracle was given in Rome; the division took place there.


by Walter Savage Landor | |

To Zo?

 Against the groaning mast I stand, 
The Atlantic surges swell, 
To bear me from my native land 
And Zo?'s wild farewell.
From billow upon billow hurl'd I can yet hear her say, `And is there nothing in the world Worth one short hour's delay?' `Alas, my Zo?! were it thus, I should not sail alone, Nor seas nor fates had parted us, But are you all my own?' Thus were it, never would burst forth My sighs, Heaven knows how true! But, though to me of little worth, The world is much to you.
`Yes,' you shall say, when once the dream (So hard to break!) is o'er, `My love was very dear to him, My fame and peace were more.
'


by William Lisle Bowles | |

VII. At a Village in Scotland....

 O NORTH! as thy romantic vales I leave, 
And bid farewell to each retiring hill, 
Where thoughtful fancy seems to linger still, 
Tracing the broad bright landscape; much I grieve 
That mingled with the toiling croud, no more 
I shall return, your varied views to mark, 
Of rocks winding wild, and mountains hoar, 
Or castle gleaming on the distant steep.
Yet not the less I pray your charms may last, And many a soften'd image of the past Pensive combine; and bid remembrance keep To cheer me with the thought of pleasure flown, When I am wand'ring on my way alone.


by William Lisle Bowles | |

I. Written at Tinemouth Northumberland after a Tempestuous Voyage

 AS slow I climb the cliff's ascending side, 
Much musing on the track of terror past 
When o'er the dark wave rode the howling blast 
Pleas'd I look back, and view the tranquil tide, 
That laves the pebbled shore; and now the beam 
Of evening smiles on the grey battlement, 
And yon forsaken tow'r, that time has rent.
The lifted oar far off with silver gleam Is touch'd and the hush'd billows seem to sleep.
Sooth'd by the scene, ev'n thus on sorrow's breast A kindred stillness steals and bids her rest; Whilst the weak winds that sigh along the deep, The ear, like lullabies of pity, meet, Singing the saddest notes of farewell sweet.


by Ella Wheeler Wilcox | |

Are you Loving Enough?

 Are you loving enough? There is some one dear,
Some one you hold as the dearest of all
In the holiest shrine of your heart.
Are you making it known? Is the truth of it clear To the one you love? If death's quick call Should suddenly tear you apart, Leaving no time for a long farewell, Would you feel you had nothing to tell--- Nothing you wished you had said before The closing of that dark door? Are you loving enough? The swift years fly--- Oh, faster and faster they hurry away, And each one carries its dead.
The good deed left for the by and by, The word to be uttered another day, May never be done or said.
Let the love word sound in the listening ear, Nor wait to speak it above a bier.
Oh the time for telling your love is brief, But long, long, long is the time for grief.
Are you loving enough?


by Friedrich von Schiller | |

The Maiden From Afar

 Within a vale, each infant year,
When earliest larks first carol free,
To humble shepherds cloth appear
A wondrous maiden, fair to see.
Not born within that lowly place-- From whence she wandered, none could tell; Her parting footsteps left no trace, When once the maiden sighed farewell.
And blessed was her presence there-- Each heart, expanding, grew more gay; Yet something loftier still than fair Kept man's familiar looks away.
From fairy gardens, known to none, She brought mysterious fruits and flowers-- The things of some serener sun-- Some Nature more benign than ours.
With each her gifts the maiden shared-- To some the fruits, the flowers to some; Alike the young, the aged fared; Each bore a blessing back to home.
Though every guest was welcome there, Yet some the maiden held more dear, And culled her rarest sweets whene'er She saw two hearts that loved draw near.


by Algernon Charles Swinburne | |

At Sea

 'Farewell and adieu' was the burden prevailing
Long since in the chant of a home-faring crew;
And the heart in us echoes, with laughing or wailing,
Farewell and adieu.
Each year that we live shall we sing it anew, With a water untravelled before us for sailing And a water behind us that wrecks may bestrew.
The stars of the past and the beacons are paling, The heavens and the waters are hoarier of hue: But the heart in us chants not an all unavailing Farewell and adieu.


by Mary Darby Robinson | |

Sonnet XVI: Delusive Hope

 Delusive Hope! more transient than the ray
That leads pale twilight to her dusky bed,
O'er woodland glen, or breezy mountain's head,
Ling'ring to catch the parting sigh of day.
Hence with thy visionary charms, away! Nor o'er my path the flow'rs of fancy spread; Thy airy dreams on peaceful pillows shed, And weave for thoughtless brows, a garland gay.
Farewell low vallies; dizzy cliffs, farewell! Small vagrant rills that murmur as ye flow: Dark bosom'd labyrinth and thorny dell; The task be mine all pleasures to forego; To hide, where meditation loves to dwell, And feed my soul, with luxury of woe!


by Mary Darby Robinson | |

Sonnet XXXV: What Means the Mist

 What means the mist opaque that veils these eyes;
Why does yon threat'ning tempest shroud the day?
Why does thy altar, Venus, fade away,
And on my breast the dews of horror rise?
Phaon is false! be dim ye orient Skies;
And let black Erebus succeed your ray;
Let clashing thunders roll, and lightning play;
Phaon is false! and hopeless Sappho dies!
"Farewell! my Lesbian love, you might have said,"
Such sweet remembrance had some pity prov'd,
"Or coldly this, farewell, Oh! Lesbian maid!"
No task severe, for one so fondly lov'd!
The gentle thought had sooth'd my wand'ring shade,
From life's dark valley, and its thorns remov'd!


by Mary Darby Robinson | |

Sonnet XXIX: Farewell Ye Towring Cedars

 Farewell, ye tow'ring Cedars, in whose shade,
Lull'd by the Nightingale, I sunk to rest,
While spicy breezes hover'd o'er my breast
To fan my cheek, in deep'ning tints array'd;
While am'rous insects, humming round me, play'd,
Each flow'r forsook, of prouder sweets in quest;
Of glowing lips, in humid fragrance drest,
That mock'd the Sunny Hybla's vaunted aid!
Farewell, ye limpid rivers! Oh! farewell!
No more shall Sappho to your grots repair;
No more your white waves to her bosom swell,
Or your dank weeds, entwine her floating hair;
As erst, when Venus in her sparry cell
Wept, to behold a brighter goddess there!


by Mary Darby Robinson | |

Sonnet XIX: Farewell Ye Coral Caves

 Farewell, ye coral caves, ye pearly sands,
Ye waving woods that crown yon lofty steep;
Farewell, ye Nereides of the glitt'ring deep,
Ye mountain tribes, ye fawns, ye sylvan bands:
On the bleak rock your frantic minstrel stands,
Each task forgot, save that, to sigh and weep;
In vain the strings her burning fingers sweep,
No more her touch, the Grecian Lyre commands!
In Circe's cave my faithless Phaon's laid,
Her daemons dress his brow with opiate flow'rs;
Or, loit'ring in the brown pomgranate shade,
Beguile with am'rous strains the fateful hours;
While Sappho's lips, to paly ashes fade,
And sorrow's cank'ring worm her heart devours!