All my stars forsake me, And the dawn-winds shake me. Where shall I betake me? Whither shall I run Till the set of sun, Till the day be done? To the mountain-mine, To the boughs o' the pine, To the blind man's eyne, To a brow that is Bowed upon the knees, Sick with memories. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO HENRY LINCOLN JOHNSON - LAWYER by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE KEEP-SAKE by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE EPITAPH ON AN ARMY OF MERCENARIES by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN OH! BLAME NOT THE BARD by THOMAS MOORE THE TELLTALE by ELIZABETH AKERS ALLEN THE MAGNOLIA TREE by EASTER ROHRER BECKER THE SEEKERS by HAZEL MCGEE BOWMAN |