Ah, sweet it was to feel the strain, What time, unseen, the ship above Stood steadfast to the storm that strove To rend our kindred cords atwain! To feel, as feel the roots that grow In darkness, when the stately tree Resists the tempests, that in me High hope was planted far below! But now, as when a mother's breast Misses the babe, my prisoned power Deep-yearning, heart-like, hour by hour, Unquiet aches in cankering rest. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DEVASTATION by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON ON A YOUNG LADY'S SIXTH ANNIVERSARY by KATHERINE MANSFIELD YEARS OF THE MODERN by WALT WHITMAN ODES: BOOK 1: ODE 12. TO SIR FRANCIS HENRY DRAKE, BARONET by MARK AKENSIDE HOW DOES THE RAIN COME? by CHARLES ROLLIN BALLARD INTRODUCTORY AND VALEDICTORY by LEVI BISHOP GIVE NOT WITH YOUR HANDS by MACKNIGHT BLACK |