WHERE I shall rest when my last song is over The air is smelling like a feast of wine; And purple breakers of the windy clover Shall roll to cool this burning brow of mine; And there shall come to me, when day is told The peace of sleep when I am grey and old. I'm wild for wandering to the far-off places Since one forsook me whom I held most dear. I want to see new wonders and new faces Beyond East seas; but I will win back here When my last song is sung, and veins are cold As thawing snow, and I am grey and old. Oh paining eyes, but not with salty weeping, My heart is like a sod in winter rain: Ere you will see those baying waters leaping Like hungry hounds once more, how many a pain Shall heal; but when my last short song is trolled You'll sleep here on wan cheeks grown thin and old. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CITY OF DREADFUL NIGHT: 21 by JAMES THOMSON (1834-1882) CIRCUS AT NIGHT by MADELEINE AARON THE VIELD PATH by WILLIAM BARNES VERSES FROM THE 'ANNALIA DUBRENSIA' by WILLIAM BASSE THE SLUGGARD by JOSEPH BEAUMONT STANZAS by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD |