Whither, whither, wearied dove, Wilt thou fly to seek thy rest? Beat with many a heavy storm, Where repose thy tender breast? Hither, hither, gentle dove, Bend thy flight and build thy home; Here repose thy tender breast, Fix thy foot, and never roam. Welcome, welcome, soft-eyed dove, To the sheltering low-roofed cot, Leave the splendid city's throng, Meekly kiss thy quiet lot. Low-roofed cots and whispering groves Suit thy pensive sweetness best; Health shall bloom, and Peace shall smile Round thy small but downy nest. Try thy thrilling notes once more, Plume again thy ruffled wing; With thy sister turtles coo, Drink at Pleasure's native spring. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SKELETON OF THE FUTURE; AT LENIN'S TOMB by CHRISTOPHER MURRAY GRIEVE THE DARK ANGEL by LIONEL PIGOT JOHNSON NATALIA'S RESURRECTION: 10 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT THE WOUNDED VULTURE by ANNE CHARLOTTE LYNCH BOTTA NETTED STRAWBERRIES by GORDON BOTTOMLEY |