 | [Poems by Wilde in] Richard Henry Wilde |  |
WRITTEN IN AN ALBUM
When the lone exile sees at last
His loved his early home once more,
How rushes on his mind the past
How his full heart at length runs o'er!
His loved his early home once more,
How rushes on his mind the past
How his full heart at length runs o'er!
Yet every face and spot he knew,
Are seen with mingled joy and pain,
To mark of all he left, how few,
Hearts, hopes, or scenes unchanged remain.
Are seen with mingled joy and pain,
To mark of all he left, how few,
Hearts, hopes, or scenes unchanged remain.
And thus perhaps, in after years,
To turn these leaves will but recall,
Moments of smiles, and days of tears,
Friends, joys, hopes, loves, all lost! all! all!
To turn these leaves will but recall,
Moments of smiles, and days of tears,
Friends, joys, hopes, loves, all lost! all! all!
| [Poems by Wilde in] Richard Henry Wilde | |