Me who have sailed Leagues across Foam haunted By the albatross, Time now hath made Remembered not: Ay, my dear love Hath me forgot. Oh, how should she, Whose beauty shone, Keep true to one Such long years gone? Grief cloud those eyes! -- I ask it not: Content am I -- She's me forgot. Here where the evening Ooboe wails, Bemocking England's nightingales, Bravely, O sailor, Take thy lot; Nor grieve too much, She's thee forgot! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AUGUST MOONRISE by SARA TEASDALE THE QUANGLE WANGLE'S HAT by EDWARD LEAR THE LAMP [LAMPE] by HENRY VAUGHAN THE MORAL FABLES: THE SWALLOW, AND THE OTHER BIRDS by AESOP A BALLADE OF EVOLUTION by GRANT ALLEN SACRED LYRIC by ISIDORE G. ASCHER |