I WILL set out to-morrow when the dawn-light whitens all the land. O my belovéd, well I know thou waitest still for me; And I will over forest ways or where doth rise and fall the land. I cannot bear to breathe in air so far away from thee. And I will walk with fixéd gaze on thoughts that cannot stray for thee, And all without me shall be dumb, and all devoid of light, Alone, unknown, with downcast eyes and claspéd hands that pray for thee, So sad of mind, I shall be blind nor know the day from night. I shall not heed the sunset gold that down the west is raining light, Nor ships with swollen sail that to the haven onward steer, And when I shall be come to thee, by waxing or by waning light Then will I lay this holly-spray and heather on thy bier. |