Out of reach and far away ; Oh to see
her in the distance as a picture, And to let your fancy play With the vision of her houses as you knew them, And her people moving there, When of old yourself went in and out among them, Scarcely heeding who they were : But, ah ! now your hungry heart would leap within you, And your very soul rejoice, If across the night there came the sound you long for, And you heard an English voice.
Oh to lie and feel the very blood within you— Every pulse of it is hers—
And to know that you shall lay it down in silence Where no English memory stirs : Where the very trees and birds seem not to know you, And no restful turf is seen, Where the eye is fed with scarlet and with purple, But, ah! not with English green ; And above the frowning mountain you can listen To the mighty thunder-crash, But may never hear the sighing of the willow, Or the rustle of the ash.
WTT.T.TAM H. DRAPER.
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