Ah! hills belov'd! -- where once a happy child, Your beechen shades, "your turf, your flowers among," I wove your blue-bells into garlands wild, And woke your echoes with my artless song. Ah! hills belov'd! -- your turf, your flowers remain; But can they peace to this sad breast restore; For one poor moment soothe the sense of pain, And teach a breaking heart to throb no more? And you, Aruna! -- in the vale below, As to the sea your limpid waves you bear, Can you one kind Lethean cup bestow, To drink a long oblivion to my care? Ah! no! -- when all, e'en Hope's last ray is gone, There's no oblivion -- but in death alone! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 101. THE ONE HOPE by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI IMAGINATION, FR. A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE THE CATARACT OF LODORE by ROBERT SOUTHEY THE STUDY OF A SPIDER by JOHN BYRNE LEICESTER WARREN HYMN, COMPOSED FOR THE CHILDREN OF A SUNDAY SCHOOL by BERNARD BARTON JUDGES: SONG OF DEBORAH; FRAGMENTS by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE TWO VOICES by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |