I yearn with the weariness of my life, laid waste and lost in the woods the zephyr sways. I yearn with the dreariness of my undirected days in the tufted forest's shade. There to groan in my happiness, there I feel that I am lost. All is tuned to my weariness. I say it. Joy doth brood for me in the tufted wood that by no path is crossed. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 91. LOST ON BOTH SIDES by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI ENGLAND AND AMERICA IN 1782 by ALFRED TENNYSON LAURENCE BLOOMFIELD IN IRELAND: 8. THE EVICTION by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM DEAD IN HIS BED by ADDIE LUCIA BALLOU FUNERAL by ETHEL SKIPTON BARRINGER |