Poems by Walter R. Cassels
page 56 of 155 (36%)
page 56 of 155 (36%)
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Never would I wander nigh them--
Madly weeping should I fly them, Till their memory e'en grew sere. But ah! no, in endless slimmer, Roams my heart through Wytham Woods, Meeting in their solitudes Evermore that angel comer, Sweeter than the light of summer Making golden Wytham Woods, Now so far, so far from me In the world of Memory. THE STAR IN THE EAST. O'er the wide world I wander evermore, Through wind and weather heedless and alone, Alike through summer, and through winter hoar, On cloud-capt mountain, by the sea-wash'd shore, Seeking the star that riseth in the East. O'er the wide world--the world that knows not why, And stares with stupid scorn to see me go; Whilst I with solemn secret face pass by, To laugh in desert spots where none are nigh, |
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