. The pioneer : a literary and critical magazine . In his tower sate the poet Gazing on the roaring sea, Take this rose, he sighed, and throw it Where there s none that loveth me. On the rock the billow burstethAnd sinks back into the seas,But in vain my spirit thirstethSo to burst and be at ease. Take, oh sea, the tender blossomThat hath lain against my breast,On thy black and angry bosomIt will find a surer rest. 4. Life is vain and love is hollow,Ugly death stands there behind,Hate and scorn and hunger followHim that toileth for his kind. 5. Forth into the night he hurled itAnd with bitter
. The pioneer : a literary and critical magazine . In his tower sate the poet Gazing on the roaring sea, Take this rose, he sighed, and throw it Where there s none that loveth me. On the rock the billow burstethAnd sinks back into the seas,But in vain my spirit thirstethSo to burst and be at ease. Take, oh sea, the tender blossomThat hath lain against my breast,On thy black and angry bosomIt will find a surer rest. 4. Life is vain and love is hollow,Ugly death stands there behind,Hate and scorn and hunger followHim that toileth for his kind. 5. Forth into the night he hurled itAnd with bitter smile did markHow the surly tempest whirled itSwift into the hungry dark. Foam and spray drive back to leeward,And the gale with dreary moanDrifts the helpless blossom seaward,Through the breakers all 1. Stands a maiden on the morrow,Musing by the wave-beat strand,Half in hope and half in sorrowTracing words upon the sand. 2. Shall I ever then behold himWho hath been my life so long, —Ever to this sick heart fold him, —Be the spirit of his song 1 THE ROSE. 41 Touch not, sea, the blessed lettersI have traced upon thy shore,Spare his name whose spirit fettersMine with love forevermore ! Swells the tide and overflows it,But, with omen pure and sweet,Brings a little rose and throws itHumbly at the maidens feet. Full of bliss she takes the token,And, upon her snowy breast,Soothes the ruffled petals brokenWith the oceans fierce unrest. 6 Love is thine, oh heart, and surelyPeace shall also be thine own,For the heart that trusteth purelyNever long can pine alone.
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Keywords: ., boo, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1840, booksubjectliteraturemodern
