AND thou art now no longer near! From me, O fairest, thou hast flown! Nor rings in my accustomed ear A single word—a single tone. As when, at morn, the wanderer's eye Pierces the air in vain to see Where, hidden in the deep-blue sky, High up the lark goes singing free,— So wanders anxiously my gaze Piercing the field, the bush, the grove; On thee still call my frequent lays: O, come to me again, dear love. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE RIDE-BY-NIGHTS by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE THE CHILD'S FIRST GRIEF by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS THE BRAVEST BATTLE by CINCINNATUS HEINE MILLER THE SHEPHEARDES CALENDER: DECEMBER by EDMUND SPENSER NATIONAL ODE; INDEPENDENCE SQUARE, PHILADELPHIA by BAYARD TAYLOR HOPE AND DESPAIR by LASCELLES ABERCROMBIE THE ARGONAUTS (ARGONATUICA): THE MEETING by APOLLONIUS RHODIUS |