 | The Poetical Works of James Gates Percival |  |
[II. O thou sole-sitting Spirit of Loneliness]
O thou sole-sitting Spirit of Loneliness!Whose haunt is by the wild and dropping caves,
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I meet thee with a passionate joy, no less
Than when the mariner, from off his waves,
Catches the glimpses of a far blue shore,—
He thinks the danger of his voyage o'er,
And, pressing all his canvas, steers to land,
With a glad bosom and a ready hand.
So I would hie me to thy desolate shade,
And seat myself in some deep-sheltered nook,
And never breathe a wish again to look
On the tossed world, but rather, listless laid,
Pore on the bubbles of the passing brook.
| The Poetical Works of James Gates Percival | |