I ask not, alien world! from thee
What my own kindred earth hath still denied.
And yet I loved that earth so well,
With all its lovely things!
Was it for this the death-wind fell
On my rich lyre, and quench’d its living strings?
Let them lie silent at my feet!
Since, broken even as they,
The heart whose music made them sweet
Hath pour’d on desert sands its wealth away.