Ah, sweet it was to feel the strain, What time, unseen, the ship above Stood steadfast to the storm that strove To rend our kindred cords atwain! To feel, as feel the roots that grow In darkness, when the stately tree Resists the tempests, that in me High hope was planted far below! But now, as when a mother's breast Misses the babe, my prisoned power Deep-yearning, heart-like, hour by hour, Unquiet aches in cankering rest. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CANTICLE OF THE RACE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE LOVER MOURNS FOR THE LOSS OF LOVE by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS MARY'S GIRLHOOD (FOR A PICTURE): 1 by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI THE LAMP OF HERO by LOUISE VICTORINE ACKERMANN A NEW PILGRIMAGE: 17 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT AN INVOCATION by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD TO W.A. AND H.H. ON THEIR DEPARTURE TO EUROPE by WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE |