Oh Maureen Oge across the foam, If you were at these hedges here, You would not know that you were home, So quaint is everything and queer. Each primrose opens with the day To wonder why it has unfurled, And since you wandered far away The winds have searched the open world. The cuckoo calls you home again; The daisies droop in pale distress; And roses lean across the lane, Och! roses wild with loneliness. Oh Maureen Oge beyond the sea, I wait not only with the rose; For in the house where you should be The walls are lonesome for your clothes. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OWL AGAINST ROBIN by SIDNEY LANIER A SOLILOQUY; OCCASIONED BY THE CHIRPING OF A GRASSHOPPER by WALTER HARTE CHARLESTON by PAUL HAMILTON HAYNE HOME, SWEET HOME, FR. CLARI, THE MAID OF MILAN by JOHN HOWARD PAYNE ROMANCE OF DUNOIS by HORTENSE DE BEAUHARNAIS |