Queen Berengaria's Courtesy, and Other Poems By the Lady E. Stuart Wortley. In Three Vols |
 | I, II, III. |
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THE SORROWS OF ABSENCE. |
 | Queen Berengaria's Courtesy, and Other Poems |  |
THE SORROWS OF ABSENCE.
Heavy and hateful absence—I am crushed
Beneath the gloom of your detested weight;
No fount of peace, to slake my thirst, hath gushed,
Since death-like absence first eclipsed my fate.
Beneath the gloom of your detested weight;
No fount of peace, to slake my thirst, hath gushed,
Since death-like absence first eclipsed my fate.
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There seems to be a world 'twixt thee and me,—
Immensity between us seems to roll;
To me one darkness, one monotony,
As 'twere the very Charnel of the Soul.
Immensity between us seems to roll;
To me one darkness, one monotony,
As 'twere the very Charnel of the Soul.
Yet there are many ties between us still;
This I repeat, yet scarce believe, the while:
Would I could teach this heart with joy to thrill,
To think the same blue sky o'er both doth smile.
This I repeat, yet scarce believe, the while:
Would I could teach this heart with joy to thrill,
To think the same blue sky o'er both doth smile.
To think the spring, the buoyant blessed spring,
Round both is scattering now her rich delight;
Hov'ring round both, with soft unfolding wing,
Profuse of joy, and glad, and young, and bright.
Round both is scattering now her rich delight;
Hov'ring round both, with soft unfolding wing,
Profuse of joy, and glad, and young, and bright.
Oh, hateful absence! 'tis in vain I strive
To call sweet thoughts unto my cheerless mind;
One bitter feeling can disperse, and drive
These thoughts away, like leaves before the wind.
To call sweet thoughts unto my cheerless mind;
One bitter feeling can disperse, and drive
These thoughts away, like leaves before the wind.
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Harsh, hateful absence! Reason speaks in vain,
And fancy vainly strives to soothe my woe;
I only feel the torture of thy pain,
The weight of thy despair I only know.
And fancy vainly strives to soothe my woe;
I only feel the torture of thy pain,
The weight of thy despair I only know.
And still between my soul's adored and me
A dark immensity appears to roll;
A wide waste world between us seems to be,
The very sepulchre of the o'er-worn soul.
A dark immensity appears to roll;
A wide waste world between us seems to be,
The very sepulchre of the o'er-worn soul.
| Queen Berengaria's Courtesy, and Other Poems | |