Explore "Tristram" by Frederic Manning on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Ah, my heart! my heart! It is weary without her.
I would that I were as the winds which play about her!
For here I waste and I sicken, and nought is fair / To mine eyes: nor night with stars in her clouded hair, / Nor all the whitening ways of the stormy seas, / Nor the leafy twilight trembling under the trees: / But mine hands crave for her touch, mine eyes for her sight, / My mouth for her mouth, mine ears for her footfalls light, / And my soul would drink of her soul through every sense, / Thirsting for her, as earth, in the heat intense, / For the soft song and the gentle dropping of rain.
But I sit here as a smouldering fire of pain, / Lonely, here! And the wind in the forest grieves, / And I hear my sorrow sobbing among the leaves.