 | [The exile, in] The lily of the valley, for 1852 |  |
34
THE EXILE.
As one, who, wandering by that sea
Where the wild heron may not dip,
Finds fruit that lured him temptingly,
But turns to ashes on his lip,—
Where the wild heron may not dip,
Finds fruit that lured him temptingly,
But turns to ashes on his lip,—
So, whatsoever destiny
To my unwilling lip has prest,
Has been but ashes unto me,
And life a burden of unrest.
To my unwilling lip has prest,
Has been but ashes unto me,
And life a burden of unrest.
And sometimes I have felt as one
E'er with the elements at strife,
Since wind and wave have borne me on
From one who loved me more than life;
E'er with the elements at strife,
Since wind and wave have borne me on
From one who loved me more than life;
One, in whose last and long embrace
Was spoken such a world of woe;
One, the sad beauty of whose face
Will haunt me wheresoe'er I go!
Was spoken such a world of woe;
One, the sad beauty of whose face
Will haunt me wheresoe'er I go!
35
O waves! that heaved me to and fro,
O winds! that shook your snowy spray,
To bear me, o'er a track of woe,
From her who holds my heart to-day;
O winds! that shook your snowy spray,
To bear me, o'er a track of woe,
From her who holds my heart to-day;
In pity for my bitter wail,
Sent towards the fast-receding strand,
Could ye not rouse one adverse gale,
And drive me backward to the land!
Sent towards the fast-receding strand,
Could ye not rouse one adverse gale,
And drive me backward to the land!
| [The exile, in] The lily of the valley, for 1852 | |