Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE EXILE, by WILLIAM SHARP


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE EXILE, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: It is not when the seamew cries above the grey-green foam
Last Line: Or the hill-wind in a broom-sweet place.
Alternate Author Name(s): Macleod, Fiona
Subject(s): Exiles; Home; Longing; Nostalgia; Sighs


It is not when the seamew cries above the grey-green foam
Or circling o'er the bracken-fields the fluttering lapwings fly,
Or when above the broom and gale the lark is in his windy home
That thus I long, and with old longing sigh.

For I am far away now, and now have time for sighing,
For sighing and for longing, where the grey houses stand.
In dreams I am a seamew flying, flying, flying
To where my heart is, in my own lost land.

It is when in the crowded streets the rustling of white willows
And tumbling of a brown hill-water obscure the noisy ways;
Then is the ache a bitter pain; and to hear grey-green billows,
Or the hill-wind in a broom-sweet place.





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