DESPAIRING and alone, Where mountain winds make moan, My days are spent: Each sacred wood and cave Is a forgotten grave Where none lament. This is my native sod, But to a stranger God My people pray; Till to myself I seem A scarce remembered dream When morn is gray. I know not what I seek; My heart is cold and weak, My eyes are dim: Across the vale I hear An anthem glad and clear, The Christians' hymn. Oh, Christ, to whom they sing, Thou art not yet the King Of this wild spot; I am too weary now At new-made shrines to bow; I know Thee not. They say, when death is o'er Man lives for evermore In heaven or hell; They call Thee Love and Light: Alas! they may be right, I cannot tell. But if in truth Thou live, If to mankind Thou give Life, motion, breath; If Love and Light Thou be, No longer torture me, But grant me death. Give me not heaven, but rest; In earth's all-sheltering breast Hide me from scorn: The gods I served are slain; My life is lived in vain; Why was I born? Gone is the ancient race; Earth has not any place For such as I: Nothing is true but grief; I have outlived belief, Then let me die. These dim, deserted skies To aged heart and eyes No comfort give: Woe to my hoary head! Woe! for the gods are dead, And yet I live. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A JOYFUL SONG OF FIVE by KATHERINE MANSFIELD BROTHERHOOD (2) by EDWIN MARKHAM SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: JOHN WASSON by EDGAR LEE MASTERS WEDDING BED IN MANGKUTANA by KAREN SWENSON ARCTURUS IN AUTUMN by SARA TEASDALE THE DISPUTE OF THE HEART AND BODY OF FRANCOIS VILLON by FRANCOIS VILLON |