OBOSOMED Earth, O altar of my prayer, What is upon us? Whither can I fly? In all this Apian land is there no lair Hid deep from every eye? I'd be a wisp of smoke, up-curled To the soft clouds above the world, Up, without wings, in the bright day, Like dust, in dying streamers whirled To pass in nothingness away. The heart within my breast is passion-tossed And will not sleep; mine eyes see nothing clear. That sight my father saw has left me lost, And my strength gone with fear. O better toward my doom to hie In a rope's strangling agony, Than lay this body down beside The man I loathe. Oh, best to die! Let Hades take his bride! Some skyey throne -- Oh, thither I would go, Where the wet clouds, back-beaten, freeze to snow: Some unbestridden, undescried, Smooth vulture-crag, in lonely pride Hanging; there to stand and leap Alone, alone to the great deep, Rather than face that forced Love And the heart-stabbing shame thereof. I fear not then a prey for dogs to lie, A feast for all the vultures of the sky. Once to be dead sets woman free From every wrong and misery. God give me to the grave instead Of that polluting marriage-bed. What outlet can I hew, what path To save us from this lust and wrath? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON AN INFANT WHICH DIED BEFORE BAPTISM by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE FOUR-LEAF CLOVER by ELLA (RHOADS) HIGGINSON THE LAND O' THE LEAL by CAROLINA OLIPHANT NAIRNE SONNET TO NIGHT by JOSEPH BLANCO WHITE OUR MASTER by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER SPANISH WINGS: SENOR by H. BABCOCK ON THE LATE CAPT. GROSE'S PEREGRINATIONS THRO' SCOTLAND by ROBERT BURNS |