Slow through my bosom's veins their last cold blood is flowing , Above my heart even now I feel the rank grass growing. Hence to the Land of Nought! the caravan is starting- Its bell already tolls the signal of departing. Rejoice, my soul! Poor bird, thou art at last delivered! Thy cage is crumbling fast; its bars will soon be shivered. Farewell, thou troubled world, where Sin and Crime run riot, For Shahi henceforth rests in God's own House of Quiet! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SELLING HER ENGAGEMENT RING by KAREN SWENSON BALLAD MADE AT THE REQUEST OF HIS MOTHER .. PRAY TO OUR LADY by FRANCOIS VILLON SOHRAB AND RUSTUM by MATTHEW ARNOLD WAPENTAKE; TO ALFRED TENNYSON by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE CHILD ALONE: 6. BLOCK CITY by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON A FAIRY TALE by PHILIP JAMES BAILEY TO MARY SINTON LEITCH, POET AND FRIEND by WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE |