--- title: Improvement Era description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930. authors: - Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations - Anonymous collections: - periodicals tags: - magazine - improvement-era periodical: Improvement Era volume: 1 number: 8 published: 1898-06 publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations publisher_place: Salt Lake City language: en type: magazine reference: 'Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations; Anonymous, "Passion Week / Goodbye," *Improvement Era* 1, no. 8 (June 1898): 582.' source: url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera18unse transcription: Transcribed from the Internet Archive scan of each issue (the item for each issue is named in the issue's own source); unnumbered advertising leaves are omitted, printed page numbers are kept as page markers. identifier: improvementera18unse start_page: 582 end_page: 582 rights: status: public-domain basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1898-06) source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera18unse publication_year: 1898 note: The Internet Archive item metadata carries a blanket "© Copyright by Intellectual Reserve, Inc." notice. The library owner judged it inapplicable because this issue was published in 1898, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright. --- # Passion Week / Goodbye GOODBYE. The following beautiful poem was written by the author of it on leav- ing Utah and the United States, to make her home in Mexico. The spirit of its pathos, the beauty of its similes and the nobility of its patriotism is worthy of Tom. Moore. — Editor. Day by day glides away and the hour approaches Which severs the bond 'twixt my country and me; The place of my birth, and the home of a life-time, Columbia—"land of the brave and the free!" Oh, flag of my nation, loved emblem of freedom, How oft my heart swelled with a patriot's pride, But now, as an exile, though never an alien, I bid you farewell for the world, wild and wide. Like a child taking leave of a fond, tender mother, Scenes dear and familiar enrapture the eye — "It may be for years, and it may be forever," I bid you a loving and tearful goodbye. Should my land of adoption a grave only offer, And pines sigh a requiem over my tomb, Though gorgeous and lovely the flowers above me, Oh, plant on my grave a wild lily from home. Oh, friends, tried and faithful, I take away with me The perfume of roses, and heartsease, and balm —