DESPAIRING and alone, Where mountain winds make moan, My days are spent: Each sacred wood and cave Is a forgotten grave Where none lament. This is my native sod, But to a stranger God My people pray; Till to myself I seem A scarce remembered dream When morn is gray. I know not what I seek; My heart is cold and weak, My eyes are dim: Across the vale I hear An anthem glad and clear, The Christians' hymn. Oh, Christ, to whom they sing, Thou art not yet the King Of this wild spot; I am too weary now At new-made shrines to bow; I know Thee not. They say, when death is o'er Man lives for evermore In heaven or hell; They call Thee Love and Light: Alas! they may be right, I cannot tell. But if in truth Thou live, If to mankind Thou give Life, motion, breath; If Love and Light Thou be, No longer torture me, But grant me death. Give me not heaven, but rest; In earth's all-sheltering breast Hide me from scorn: The gods I served are slain; My life is lived in vain; Why was I born? Gone is the ancient race; Earth has not any place For such as I: Nothing is true but grief; I have outlived belief, Then let me die. These dim, deserted skies To aged heart and eyes No comfort give: Woe to my hoary head! Woe! for the gods are dead, And yet I live. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ANOTHER SONG WITHOUT WORDS by PAUL VERLAINE ALL THAT'S PAST by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE THE LAST WORD OF A BLUEBIRD; AS TOLD TO A CHILD by ROBERT FROST THE SELF-UNSEEING by THOMAS HARDY CONSIDER by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 29. CHRIST AND ENGLAND by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) |