Page:Songs of Rebellion (Hall 1915).djvu/53

 I AM WEARY.

I am weary, O my brothers, of the long march down the night; I am weary though the goal for which we battled is in sight; I am weary, O my brothers, and I long to turn aside To rest me in the gardens where the olden dreams abide.

I am weary, O my brothers, of the hard and glaring street, Where the promise of the spirit is forever incomplete; I am weary, I am yearning for the innocence that died When the wings of faith were bartered for the broken cruth of pride.

I am weary, O my brothers, I am sorrowing to death For the fragrance of the clover and the honeysuckle's breath; I am fainting for the lost-lands where the cool, sweet bayous flow, Where the lotus blooms forever and the water lilies grow.

I am weary, O my brothers, I am grieving for the word, For the high and mystic language that my soul at twilight heard; I am grieving, I am grieving for the nest-notes of the dove, For the melody and music of a world aglow with love.

I am weary, O my brothers, of the treason and the strife, Of this flowerless Sahara with its mirages of life; I am weary, O my brothers, of the long march up the night, I am weary though the goal for which we battled is in sight. 47