446
POEMS OF ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH.
Night gathers fast; adieu, thou fading shore!
The land we look for next must lie before;
Hence, foolish tears! weak thoughts, no more rebel,
Farewell, farewell, a last, a last farewell.
The land we look for next must lie before;
Hence, foolish tears! weak thoughts, no more rebel,
Farewell, farewell, a last, a last farewell.
Yet not, indeed, ah not till more than sea
And more than space divide my love and me,
Till more than waves and winds between us swell,
Farewell, a last, indeed, a last farewell.
And more than space divide my love and me,
Till more than waves and winds between us swell,
Farewell, a last, indeed, a last farewell.
Ye flags of Piccadilly,
Where I posted up and down,
And wished myself so often
Well away from you and town,—
Where I posted up and down,
And wished myself so often
Well away from you and town,—
Are the people walking quietly
And steady on their feet,
Cabs and omnibuses plying
Just as usual in the street?
And steady on their feet,
Cabs and omnibuses plying
Just as usual in the street?
Do the houses look as upright
As of old they used to be,
And does nothing seem affected
By the pitching of the sea?
As of old they used to be,
And does nothing seem affected
By the pitching of the sea?
Through the Green Park iron railings
Do the quick pedestrians pass?
Are the little children playing
Round the plane-tree in the grass?
Do the quick pedestrians pass?
Are the little children playing
Round the plane-tree in the grass?
This squally wild north-wester
With which our vessel rights,
Does it merely serve with you to
Carry up some paper kites?
With which our vessel rights,
Does it merely serve with you to
Carry up some paper kites?
