The Parting Verse, The Feast There Ended.

Loth to depart, but yet at last each one Back must now go to's habitation; Not knowing thus much when we once do sever, Whether or no that we shall meet here ever. As for myself, since time a thousand cares And griefs hath filed upon my silver hairs, 'Tis to be doubted whether I next year Or no shall give ye a re-meeting here. If die I must, then my last vow shall be, You'll with a tear or two remember me. Your sometime poet; but if fates do give Me longer date and more fresh springs to live, Oft as your field shall her old age renew, Herrick shall make the meadow-verse for you.