ON AN HEADLAND OVERLOOKING THE SEA, BECAUSE IT WAS FREQUENTED BY A LUNATIC Is there a solitary wretch who hies To the tall cliff, with starting pace or slow, And, measuring, views with wild and hollow eyes Its distance from the waves that chide below; Who, as the sea-born gale with frequent sighs Chills his cold bed upon the mountain turf, With hoarse, half-utter'd lamentation, lies Murmuring responses to the dashing surf? In moody sadness, on the giddy brink, I see him more with envy than with fear; He has no nice felicities that shrink From giant horrors; wildly wandering here, He seems (uncursed with reason) not to know The depth or the duration of his woe. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A LETTER TO HER HUSBAND, ABSENT UPON PUBLIC EMPLOYMENT by ANNE BRADSTREET HER MERRIMENT by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES THE CLOSING SCENE by THOMAS BUCHANAN READ FIRELIGHT by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON SKIPPER IRESON'S RIDE by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER THE SUPPLIANTS: PRAYER FOR DELIVERANCE. CHORUS by AESCHYLUS SAW YE JOHNNIE COMIN'? by JOANNA BAILLIE SAME COTTAGE - BUT ANOTHER SONG, OF ANOTHER SEASON by HENRY MAXIMILIAN BEERBOHM |