 | The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere |  |
XIX. ‘HOLD UP, OLD HORSE!’
The exile pacing o'er the Russian plainTo that far East where he must waste his life,
Exhausted with the long and passionate strife
Whose failure earned this fate, can not retain
Or fix the thoughts which flit across his brain;
His memory with formless clouds is rife,
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Lost in a haze of dull and leaden pain:
So I, ere half my day is spent, outworn,
And stepping surely towards an early end,
But dimly see the promise of my morn,
Though far unlike that wretched one forlorn;—
Lovers and friends my failing steps attend;
And I can welcome all that God may send.
March 4, 1864.
| The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere | |