Farewell, it is not much to say
When bright night follows pleasant day,
And when the traveller takes the way
From friendly hearth to hearth of friend,
But yet with each change we portend
Some grief, some hand-long cloud of care
We ought to shelter from or share:
Parting eyes are over-kind,
The lamb-lost ewe's bleat fills the air,
The plover's plaint is in the wind.