From far she watched his wanderings, and sighed To know herself so soft, so warm a thing; And laughed recalling with what pains she tried To pipe the tune that he had bade her sing. For he had told her in those golden days, When all her hope lay trembling on his breast, That she must watch him go his vagrant ways -- For him there was no peace, there was no rest. His words had shown her all she feared, and when He slept she lay beside him silently. Up in the morning, gayly serene again, She told him she had found Philosophy. This made him comfortable, and though she died He should not know how bitterly she lied. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AN ODE IN IMITATION OF ALCAEUS by WILLIAM JONES THE LAMENTATION OF GLUMDALCLITCH FOR THE LOSS OF GRILDRIG by ALEXANDER POPE NIOBE: INEXORABLE DEATH by AESCHYLUS TO A SINGING BIRD by PHILIP AYRES LOOKING DOWNWARDS by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON IN VINCULIS; SONNETS WRITTEN IN AN IRISH PRISON: FAREWELL DARK by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT THE WANDERER: 5. IN HOLLAND: KING SOLOMON by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |