On the lone waters' shore <br />Wander I yet; <br />Brooding those moments o'er <br />I should forget. <br />Till the broad foaming surge <br />Warns me to fly, <br />While despair's whispers urge <br />To stay, and die. <br />When the night's solemn watch <br />Falls on the seas, <br />'Tis thy voice that I catch <br />In the low breeze; <br />When the moon sheds her light <br />On things below, <br />Beams not her ray so bright, <br />Like thy young brow? <br />Spirit immortal! say, <br />When wilt thou come, <br />To marshal me the way <br />To my long home?<br /><br />Frances Anne Kemble<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-the-dead-4/
