Lo, as a dove when up she springs To bear thro' heaven a tale of woe, Some dolorous message knit below The wild pulsation of her wings; Like her I go, I cannot stay; I leave this mortal ark behind, A weight of nerves without a mind, And leave the cliffs, and haste away O'er ocean-mirrors rounded large, And reach the glow of southern skies, And see the sails at distance rise, And linger weeping on the marge, And saying, 'Comes he thus, my friend? Is this the end of all my care?' And circle moaning in the air, 'Is this the end? Is this the end?' And forward dart again, and play About the prow, and back return To where the body sits, and learn That I have been an hour away. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WILLIE WINKIE by WILLIAM MILLER THE AUTHOR'S PARTING ADDRESS TO THE MUSE by BERNARD BARTON THE SPIRIT'S WARFARE by WILLIAM BLAKE NATALIA'S RESURRECTION: 13 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT NIMROD: 1 by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH A WORD TO THE 'ELECT' by ANNE BRONTE THE CANTERBURY TALES: THE WIFE OF BATH'S TALE by GEOFFREY CHAUCER |