 | Jones Very : The Complete Poems |  |
544
Longing
How oft, with homesick hearts, their fancy fliesBack to Old England o'er the wintry main;
And thoughts of distant friends bedew their eyes,
Whom they on earth may never see again;
Musing they start! amid the deepening gloom,
And think the forms of distant friends they see;
And e'en at times, within the darkened room,
The buried dead with them would seem to be!
Sickly and weak how oft, with anxious gaze,
From yonder hills they searched the ocean o'er?
Spring slowly comes, with many backward days,
Before the longed-for fleet has reached the shore;
When scarce provisions for a week remain,
Their failing strength and courage to sustain.
Poem No. 196; c. 1878–80
| Jones Very : The Complete Poems | |