Me who have sailed Leagues across Foam haunted By the albatross, Time now hath made Remembered not: Ay, my dear love Hath me forgot. Oh, how should she, Whose beauty shone, Keep true to one Such long years gone? Grief cloud those eyes! -- I ask it not: Content am I -- She's me forgot. Here where the evening Ooboe wails, Bemocking England's nightingales, Bravely, O sailor, Take thy lot; Nor grieve too much, She's thee forgot! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE PLOUGH; A LANDSCAPE IN BERKSHIRE by RICHARD HENGIST (HENRY) HORNE SPRING'S WELCOME, FR. ALEXANDER AND CAMPASPE by JOHN LYLY PSALM 104, SELECTION by RICHARD BLACKMORE CEDARS OF LEBANON AT WARWICK CASTLE by MATHILDE BLIND NATALIA'S RESURRECTION: 11 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |