Out of a world of pain, In a trance that may well be death, I drift on a barge thro' the fields again Wherein I first drew breath. And the river cools my face And the river-scented flowers, Water-mint and tall loose-strife Bring me memories deep as life From all my vanished hours, And a white wraith-figure of you -- White arms, white hands, white breast -- Drifts by my side, and alone we two Drink of the river of rest. And the wind sighs in the reeds -- Gently -- a little wind -- And lightly and sadly the gossamer-seeds Float away o'er the river-meads, Blown by that little wind, And cool airs touch our faces And your wraith-like hollow eyes Grow soft with the leafy places, And the low-breathed reedy sighs; And on and on we drift, Where the cattle stand in ranks, And the swallows flit and skim Over green and mossy banks; Till the willows droop like ghosts And the twilight fills the plain And the rooks in solemn hosts Gather and drift like rain. Then at last I feel and know That all my memories As they wavered and flickered in endless flow Were premonitions sent long ago Of nothing else than this! Than that I with you by my side, Wraith-like but lovely still, Should follow the river and drift and glide, Past forest and forest -- past hill and hill; Till the river we follow grows one with the sea. Ah, the pain again -- it will never be! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CLOTE (WATER-LILY) by WILLIAM BARNES ARABELLA STUART by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS UPON THE CIRCUMCISION by JOHN MILTON THE RUSTIC LAD'S LAMENT IN THE TOWN by DAVID MACBETH MOIR A CHRISTMAS CAROL by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE STORM AT SEA (1) by ALCAEUS OF MYTILENE |