 | Collected poems of Herman Melville |  |
TO ---
Ah, wherefore, lonely, to and froFlittest like the shades that go
Pale wandering by the weedy stream?
We, like they, are but a dream:
Then dreams, and less, our miseries be;
Yea, fear and sorrow, pain, despair
Are but phantoms. But what plea
Avails here? phantoms having power
To make the heart quake and the spirit cower.
| Collected poems of Herman Melville | |