Ballades V - Of His Choice of a Sepulchre

HERE I ’d come when weariest!

Here the breast

Of the Windberg’s tufted over

Deep with bracken; here his crest

Takes the west,

Where the wide-winged hawk doth hover.

Silent here are lark and plover;

In the cover

Deep below, the cushat best

Loves his mate, and croons above

O’er their nest,

Where the wide-winged hawk doth hover.

Bring me here, Life’s tired-out guest,

To the blest

Bed that waits the weary rover,—

Here should failure be confest;

Ends my quest,

Where the wide-winged hawk doth hover!

ENVOY

Friend, or stranger kind, or lover,

Ah, fulfil a last behest,

Let me rest

Where the wide-winged hawk doth hover!