AH, Love, through what unfathomed deeps Thy feet have sped, Up what bare hills and barren steeps Thy hands have led, What bitter nights and burning days Have marked thy ways. And I have followed all the while, So close to thee, Hoping thou wouldest turn and smile, To gladden me, To tell me we should safely come To thy fair home. But thou dost ever onward press, With hidden face, Ah surely none may wear thy dress, None take thy place; Ah tell me it is thou indeed With whom I speed. Dear Love, dear Love, thy tightening hand Is stern and cold, I see the gates of thy great land Grown clear and bold, And Death, alone, comes forth in peace To my release. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN A MYRTLE SHADE by WILLIAM BLAKE CINQUAIN: NOVEMBER NIGHT by ADELAIDE CRAPSEY MEDITATION AT KEW by ANNA WICKHAM ON LYNN TERRACE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH MONICA'S LAST PRAYER by MATTHEW ARNOLD ON THE DESERTED VILLAGE by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD THE PARLOUS THING by WILLIAM ROSE BENET |