FROM walk to walk, from shade to shade, From stream to purling stream convey'd, Through all the mazes of the grove, Through all the mingling tracts I rove, Turning, Burning, Changing, Ranging, Full of grief and full of love, Impatient for my lord's return I sigh, I pine, I rave, I mourn. Was ever passion cross'd like mine? To rend my breast, And break my rest, A thousand ills combine. Absence wounds me, Fear surrounds me, Guilt confounds me, Was ever passion cross'd like mine? How does my constant grief deface The pleasures of this happy place! In vain the spring my senses greets, In all her colours, all her sweets; To me the rose No longer glows, Every plant Has lost his scent; The vernal blooms of various hue, The blossoms fresh with morning dew, The breeze, that sweeps these fragrant bowers, Fill'd with the breath of op'ning flowers, Purple scenes, Winding greens, Glooms inviting, Birds delighting (Nature's softest, sweetest store), Charm my tortur'd soul no more. Ye powers, I rave, I faint, I die: Why so slow, great Henry, why? From death and alarms Fly, fly to my arms, Fly to my arms, my monarch, fly! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BUCOLIC COMEDY: FOX TROT by EDITH SITWELL BUCOLIC COMEDY: THE FOX; FOR ANN PEARN by EDITH SITWELL SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 26 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING LAMENT FOR CULLODEN by ROBERT BURNS SARRAZINE'S SONG, FR. CHAITIVEL by MARIE DE FRANCE ISAIAH: PERFECT PEACE by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE ECHOES OF SPRING: 10 by MATHILDE BLIND THE PINE TREE by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON EPITAPH FOR JOSEPH BLACKETT, LATE POET AND SHOEMAKER by GEORGE GORDON BYRON |