Page:Four Victorian poets; a study of Clough (IA fourvictorianpoe00broorich).pdf/49

 Ah dear, and where is he, a year agone, Who stepped beside and cheered us on and on? My sweetheart wanders far away from me, In foreign land or on a foreign sea. Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie.

The lightning zigzags shoot across the sky, (Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie,) And through the vale the rains go sweeping by ; Ab me, and when in shelter shall we be? Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie.

Cold, dreary cold, the stormy winds feel they O’er foreign lands and foreign seas that stray. (Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie.) And doth he e’er, I wonder, bring to mind The pleasant huts and herds he left behind? And doth he sometimes in his slumbering sce The feeding kine, and doth he think of me, My sweetheart wandering whereso’er it be? Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palic.

The thunder bellows far from snow to snow, (Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie.) And loud and londer roars the flood below, Heigh-ho! but soon in shelter shall we be: Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie,

Or shall he find before his term be sped, Some comelier maid that he shall wish to wed? (Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie.) For weary is work, and weary day by day To have your comfort miles on miles away. Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie.

Or may it be that I shall find my mate, And he returning see himself too late? For work we must, and what we see, we see, And God he knows, and what must be, must be, When sweethearts wander far away from me. Home, Rose, and home, Provence and La Palie.