James Nack
First Lines
And thou art torn, my fairest!
Far, far from this grave be the footstep unholy,
Forget me not, my blue-eyed maid,
Go -- I from my soul disclaim thee,
I know that thou art far away,
I may not call to grandeur's hall
My babe! my own, my precious babe!
She calls me "father!" -- though my ear
She loved me well, whose precious head
Sweet murmurings of a father's name;
That we for riper years should stay,
The glittering stars we admire,
The meanest wretch that sullies earth
The winds of March are loose again,
The world looks pleasantly and bright
Twelve years ago! how swift their flight,
When childhood shall have flown away,
When I am in that distant place
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