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Poem
December 6, 1837
The Rhode Island Republican
Newport, Newport County, Rhode Island
What is this article about?
A reflective verse letter to the poet's brother lamenting how distance and time erode most friendships, expressing personal sorrow at being forgotten, yet clinging to hope of returning to their native land to reunite, evoking fond memories of 'days o' lang syne.'
Clipping
OCR Quality
95%
Excellent
Full Text
POETRY.
From the N. Y. Evg. Herald.
To MY BROTHER.
When distance has parted relations and friends,
For a time their remembrance is sacred and dear;
But as years hurry on, so does friendship descend,
And the fate of a relative scarce draws a tear.
'Tis so with the many, but yet there's a few
Whose hearts are religiously strengthened by time;
Who live in the hope they again may renew
The friendships they pledged in the days o' lang syne.
Ah! would I could say that I still was possessed
Of a heart such as this, which in unison beat
With my own, I should certainly feel myself blessed,
And long for the hour when again we shall meet.
But no! the poor exile must sorrow alone;
Though friendship be dead still he will not repine;
His heart may be seared, may be turned into stone,
But it warms when he thinks of the days o' lang syne.
I had hoped, if returning to Albion's shore,
To have found there a heart that was faithful and true;
But the vision of hope cannot cheer any more,
It dies, when I feel I'm forgotten by you.
Youth's dream is long passed, and the follies which rose
To the top of the cup, giving zest to the wine,
Have sunk with the draught into silent repose,
But return to the surface with thought o' lang syne.
There is yet one emotion which gladdens my heart
One bright ray of sunshine, pervading the gloom
Which hallowed around it, can never depart
Till life shall have passed, and I'm called to the tomb.
'Tis the hope of return to the land of my birth,
Nor would I for worlds this fair vision resign,
Of landing again on my own native earth
And reposing with those I have loved o' lang syne.
ARROW.
From the N. Y. Evg. Herald.
To MY BROTHER.
When distance has parted relations and friends,
For a time their remembrance is sacred and dear;
But as years hurry on, so does friendship descend,
And the fate of a relative scarce draws a tear.
'Tis so with the many, but yet there's a few
Whose hearts are religiously strengthened by time;
Who live in the hope they again may renew
The friendships they pledged in the days o' lang syne.
Ah! would I could say that I still was possessed
Of a heart such as this, which in unison beat
With my own, I should certainly feel myself blessed,
And long for the hour when again we shall meet.
But no! the poor exile must sorrow alone;
Though friendship be dead still he will not repine;
His heart may be seared, may be turned into stone,
But it warms when he thinks of the days o' lang syne.
I had hoped, if returning to Albion's shore,
To have found there a heart that was faithful and true;
But the vision of hope cannot cheer any more,
It dies, when I feel I'm forgotten by you.
Youth's dream is long passed, and the follies which rose
To the top of the cup, giving zest to the wine,
Have sunk with the draught into silent repose,
But return to the surface with thought o' lang syne.
There is yet one emotion which gladdens my heart
One bright ray of sunshine, pervading the gloom
Which hallowed around it, can never depart
Till life shall have passed, and I'm called to the tomb.
'Tis the hope of return to the land of my birth,
Nor would I for worlds this fair vision resign,
Of landing again on my own native earth
And reposing with those I have loved o' lang syne.
ARROW.
What sub-type of article is it?
Verse Letter
What themes does it cover?
Friendship
What keywords are associated?
Brother
Exile
Friendship
Lang Syne
Native Land
Reunion
What entities or persons were involved?
Arrow.
Poem Details
Title
To My Brother.
Author
Arrow.
Subject
To A Brother On Separation And Faded Friendship
Form / Style
Rhymed Quatrains
Key Lines
When Distance Has Parted Relations And Friends,
For A Time Their Remembrance Is Sacred And Dear;
But No! The Poor Exile Must Sorrow Alone;
Though Friendship Be Dead Still He Will Not Repine;
His Heart May Be Seared, May Be Turned Into Stone,
But It Warms When He Thinks Of The Days O' Lang Syne.
'Tis The Hope Of Return To The Land Of My Birth,
Nor Would I For Worlds This Fair Vision Resign,
Of Landing Again On My Own Native Earth
And Reposing With Those I Have Loved O' Lang Syne.