FROM walk to walk, from shade to shade, From stream to purling stream convey'd, Through all the mazes of the grove, Through all the mingling tracts I rove, Turning, Burning, Changing, Ranging, Full of grief and full of love, Impatient for my lord's return I sigh, I pine, I rave, I mourn. Was ever passion cross'd like mine? To rend my breast, And break my rest, A thousand ills combine. Absence wounds me, Fear surrounds me, Guilt confounds me, Was ever passion cross'd like mine? How does my constant grief deface The pleasures of this happy place! In vain the spring my senses greets, In all her colours, all her sweets; To me the rose No longer glows, Every plant Has lost his scent; The vernal blooms of various hue, The blossoms fresh with morning dew, The breeze, that sweeps these fragrant bowers, Fill'd with the breath of op'ning flowers, Purple scenes, Winding greens, Glooms inviting, Birds delighting (Nature's softest, sweetest store), Charm my tortur'd soul no more. Ye powers, I rave, I faint, I die: Why so slow, great Henry, why? From death and alarms Fly, fly to my arms, Fly to my arms, my monarch, fly! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE DEIL'S AWA WI' TH' EXCISEMAN by ROBERT BURNS MELANCHOLIA by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR CARRION COMFORT by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS TO MY MERE ENGLISH CENSURER by BEN JONSON THE SANDS OF DEE by CHARLES KINGSLEY MARIZIBILL by GUILLAUME APOLLINAIRE THE BURIAL-PLACE by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT EXTEMPORE TO MR. SYME by ROBERT BURNS LINES ON HEARING THAT LADY BYRON WAS ILL by GEORGE GORDON BYRON |