Far, far from me my love is fled, In a light skiff he tempts the sea, The young Desires his sails have spread, And Hope his pilot deigns to be. The promis'd land of varied joys, Which so delights his fickle mind, In waking dreams his days employs, While I, poor I, sing to the wind. But young Desires grow old and die, And Hope no more the Helm may steer; Beneath a dark and stormy sky Shall fall the late repentant tear. While I, within my peaceful grot, May hear the distant tempest roar, Contented with my humble lot, In safety on the friendly shore. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SISTER LOU by STERLING ALLEN BROWN THE CRUEL MISTRESS by THOMAS CAREW THE VANISHING RED by ROBERT FROST A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 32 by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN THE BARTHOLDI STATUE by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER |