  Alone! alone! How drear it is Always to be alone! In such a depth of wilderness, The only thinking one! The waters in their path rejoice, The trees together sleep— But I have not one silver voice Upon my ear to creep! The sun upon the silent hills His mesh of beauty weaves, There's music in the laughing rills And in the whispering leaves. The red deer like the breezes fly To meet the bounding roe, But I have not a human sigh To cheer me as I go. I've hated men—I hate them now— But, since they are not here, I thirst for the familiar brow— Thirst for the stealing tear. And I should love to see the one, And feel the other creep, And then again I'd be alone Amid the forest deep. I thought that I should love my hound, And hear my cracking gun Till I forgot the thrilling sound Of voices—one by one. I thought that in the leafy hush Of nature, they would die; But, as the hindered waters rush, Resisted feelings fly I'm weary of my lonely hut And of its blasted tree, The very lake is like my lot, So silent constantly. I've lived amid the forest gloom Until I almost fear— When will the thrilling voices come My spirit thirsts to hear? |
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