Thou wakest lone thirst—be hush’d, exulting strain!
Be hush’d, or breathe of grief!—of exile yearnings
Under the willows of the stranger-shore;
Breathe of the soul’s untold and restless burnings
For looks, tones, footsteps, that return no more.
Breathe of deep love—a lonely vigil keeping
Through the night-hours, o’er wasted wealth to pine;
Rich thoughts and sad, like faded rose-leaves, heaping
In the shut heart, at once a tomb and shrine.
Or pass as if thy spirit-notes came sighing