I'M driven hither and thither along! But yet a few hours, I shall see her again, Herself, the most fair of the fair maiden-train; -- True heart, what means thy throbbing so strong? The hours are only a slothful race! Lazily they move each day, And with yawning go their way; -- Hasten on, ye slothful race! Wild-raging eagerness thrills me indeed; Never in love have the hours delighted; So, in a cruel bond strangely united, Slily deride they the lovers' wild speed. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FLANNAN ISLE by WILFRID WILSON GIBSON WILLIE WINKIE by WILLIAM MILLER THE GRAPE-VINE SWING by WILLIAM GILMORE SIMMS IT IS ENOUGH by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS TO A WITHERED ROSE by JOHN KENDRICK BANGS |