In a far foreign land 'If we could clasp our sister,' Oh the ship sails fast On a sloped sandy beach, Which the spring-tide billows reach, Who have hoped and waited long : Whilst the Raven perched at ease A day and a night They kept watch worn and white; For the swift ship on its way: On either shore, some Oh who knows the truth? From the sea-foam chill and hoary, THE POOR GHOST Nor hear the happy lark that soars sky-high, Nor sigh that spring is fleet and summer fleet, Nor mark the waxing wheat, Nor know who sits in our accustomed seat. Life is not good. good One day it will be To die, then live again; To sleep meanwhile; so, not to feel the wane If we should meet one day, If both should not forget, 263 359 We shall clasp hands the accustomed way, As when we met, So long ago, as I remember yet. 11 Where my heart is (wherever that may be) Might I but follow! If you fly thither over heath and lea, Of shrunk leaves dropping in O honey-seeking bee, the wood, O careless swallow, Nor hear the foamy lashing of the Bid some for whom I watch keep We loosed hand from hand, We parted face from face: Each went his way to his own land At his own pace, Each went to place. watch for me. Alas that we must dwell, my heart and I, So far asunder! Hours wax to days, and days and days creep by ; I watch with wistful eye, I wait and wonder: When will that day draw nigh—that Not yesterday, and not I think to-day; Day after day 'To-morrow' thus I say: I watched so yesterday In hope and sorrow, Again to-day I watch the accustomed way. 25 June 1863. THE POOR GHOST 'OH whence do you come, my dear friend, to me, fill his separate With your golden hair all fallen below your knee, And your face as white as snowdrops Life is gone, then love too is gone, on the lea, And your voice as hollow as the hollow sea?' 'From the other world I come back to you: It was a reed that I leant upon : 'I go home alone to my bed, My locks are uncurled with dripping Dug deep at the foot and deep at drenching dew. You know the old, whilst I know the new: night the head, Roofed in with a load of lead, 'But why did your tears soak through And why did your sobs wake me I was away, far enough away : MARGERY That mine own only love shrinks WHAT shall we do with Margery? from me with fright, Is fain to turn away to left or right And cover up his eyes from the sight?' She lies and cries upon her bed, All lily-pale from foot to head; Her heart is sore as sore can be: Poor guileless shamefaced Margery. 'Indeed I loved you, my chosen A foolish girl, to love a man friend, I loved you for life, but life has an end; Through sickness I was ready to tend: But death mars all, which we cannot mend. 'Indeed I loved you; I love you yet, If you will stay where your bed is set, Where I have planted a violet, Which the wind waves, which the dew makes wet.' |