I became more sad and silent as the day approached for his leaving,
I tried to appear as usual, but the sorrow I had to struggle against was one that could not be entirely conquered or concealed.
I intimated that this would be a different parting form,
any I had ever yet known.
It would probably, as far as I was concerned, be a parting for years.
It might be a parting for life.
"He would sacrifice all to his long-framed resolves," I thought.
Natural ambitions and persistence more potent still beneath him.
He looked placid but hid a fervor in his vitals,
in some things he was inexorable as death.
It was in scenes of strife and danger
-where courage was proved and energy exercised and fortitude tasked,
that he would speak and move,
He was right to have chosen his path, I saw it clearly.
But the worst was, my heart would hardly permit me to dissuade him from his severe decision.
Certainly I couldn't blame him for it. It was best, yet it broke my heart.
And tears gushed to my eyes.
he thought proper not to have an encounter with me; left in silence instead.
I was hurt by the marked omission, so much hurt that tears started to my eyes.
I had not much pride under such circumstances:
I would always rather be happy than dignified,
And I ran after him, but he was not there anymore.
He had left, forever...