OF all the memories of the past
That long will haunt my dreams,
This scene upon my soul will cast
The brightest, gladdest beams.
I've really had the jolliest spree,
Though S-L-SB-RY cuts it short;
Memory will oft recall to me
The Good-bye to the Porte.
My stay out here may have estranged
The closest friends I knew;
R-ND-LPH, I think, seems rather changed;
Will B-LF-R prove more true?
No happy hours again for me
In this sweet clime to sport!
I cannot contemplate with glee
This Good-bye to the Porte.