Kokosing Farewell

Old Kenyon, we are like Kokosing,
Obedient to some strange spell,
Which urges us from all reposing;
Farewell, Old Kenyon,
Fare thee well.

And yet we are not like Kokosing,
Which beareth naught upon its swell
But foam of motion's own composing;
Farewell, Old Kenyon,
Fare thee well.

But when we are far from Kokosing,
We still shall hear a calling bell,
When round us evening shades are closing;
Farewell, Old Kenyon,
Fare thee well.

And see a river like Kokosing,
In meadows sweet with asphodel,
Where mem'ry dwells dear past supposing;
Farewell, Old Kenyon,
Fare thee well.