Page:Hemans in Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine 37 1835.pdf/4

 The voices buried in old whispery caves, And by lone river-sources, and amidst The gloom and mist'ry of dark, prophet-oaks, The Wood-gods' haunt—they give me no reply! All silent—heaven and earth!—for ever more From the deserted mountains thou art gone— For ever from the melancholy groves, Whose laurels wail thee with a shivering sound!— And I—I pine through all the joyous day, Through the long night I pine,—as fondly pines The night's own bird, dissolving her lorn life To song in moonlight woods.—Thou hear'st me not! The Heavens are pitiless of human tears; The deep sea-darkness is about thy head; The white sail never will bring back the loved!

By the blue waters—the restless ocean waters, Restless as they with their many-flashing surges, Lonely I wander, weeping for my lost one!