Itchin, when I behold thy banks again, Thy crumbling margin, and thy silver breast, On which the self-same tints still seem to rest, Why feels my heart the shiv'ring sense of pain? Is it, that many a summer's day has past Since, in life's morn, I carol'd on thy side? Is it, that oft, since then, my heart has sigh'd, As Youth, and Hope's delusive gleams, flew fast? Is it that those, who circled on thy shore, Companions of my youth, now meet now more? Whate'er the cause, upon thy banks I bend Sorrowing, yet feel such solace at my heart, As at the meeting of some long-lost friend, From whom, in happier hours, we wept to part. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...RUNNING THE BATTERIES by HERMAN MELVILLE TO MY BOOKS by CAROLINE ELIZABETH SARAH SHERIDAN NORTON THE PRINCESS: SONG by ALFRED TENNYSON THE VIRGINIANS OF THE VALLEY by FRANCIS ORRERY TICKNOR THE MAGI by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS SUNSET IN THE DEVIL'S GLEN: COUNTY WICKLOW by EDMUND JOHN ARMSTRONG HAPPINESS THROUGH THE YEAR by J. MARGARET CRUTE ASHCRAFT |