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 | The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston |  |
WHEN THOU ART FAR FROM ME.
When thou art far from me while days go by
In which I may not hear thy voice divine,
Or kiss thy lips, or take thy hand in mine,
I walk as 'neath a dark and hostile sky,
And the Spring winds seem void of prophecy,
Nor is there any cheer in the sun's shine;
But present Grief and mocking Fear combine
To overthrow me when on Love I cry.
In which I may not hear thy voice divine,
Or kiss thy lips, or take thy hand in mine,
I walk as 'neath a dark and hostile sky,
And the Spring winds seem void of prophecy,
Nor is there any cheer in the sun's shine;
But present Grief and mocking Fear combine
To overthrow me when on Love I cry.
I am as one who through a foreign town
Journeys alone, some wild and wintry night,
And from the windows sees warm light stream down,
While there, for him, is neither heat nor light;
But far, far off, he has a lordlier home,
Whereto, one day, his weary feet shall come.
Journeys alone, some wild and wintry night,
And from the windows sees warm light stream down,
While there, for him, is neither heat nor light;
But far, far off, he has a lordlier home,
Whereto, one day, his weary feet shall come.
| The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston | |