Page:The Forest Sanctuary.pdf/75

This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
THE FOREST SANCTUARY.
69


XXXVI.

I told my heart 'twas but the exile's woe
Which press'd on that sweet bosom;—I deceiv'd
My heart but half:—a whisper faint and low,
Haunting it ever, and at times believ'd,
Spoke of some deeper cause. How oft we seem
Like those that dream, and know the while they dream,
Midst the soft falls of airy voices griev'd,
And troubled, while bright phantoms round them play,

By a dim sense that all will float and fade away!


XXXVII.

Yet, as if chasing joy, I woo'd the breeze,
To speed me onward with the wings of morn.
—Oh! far amidst the solitary seas,
Which were not made for man, what man hath borne,
Answering their moan with his!—what thou didst bear,
My lost and loveliest! while that secret care
Grew terror, and thy gentle spirit, worn
By its dull brooding weight, gave way at last,

Beholding me as one from hope for ever cast!
This article is issued from Wikisource. The text is available under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 unless otherwise noted. Additional terms may apply for the media files.