Not by thy side, but in thy heart
'Tis mine to dwell;
We scorn to utter when we part
That feeble word, “Farewell.”
Lift up thy weeping eyes, and be
Worthy the throne I keep for thee.
Like some deep well where at noonday
The stars yet shine;
My soul seeks darkness that it may
Hold all the light of thine;
And thou, my trembling star, must be,
Pure as the shrine I make for thee.
Upon my love thy soul may rest
As still and safe,
As wild-flowers in a rocky nest
Where billows vainly chafe.
Alas, poor flower! thou canst not be
Strong as the rock which shelters thee!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem