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Poem by Thomas Hood


The Exile


The swallow with summer
	Will wing oer the seas,
The wind that I sigh to
	Will visit thy trees. 
The ship that it hastens
	Thy ports will contain, 
But me!  I must never
	See England again!

Theres many that weep their,
	But one weeps alone, 
For the tears that are falling
	So far from her own;
So far from thy own, love, 
	We know not our pain;
If death is between us, 
	Or only the main.

When the white cloud reclines
	On the verge of the sea, 
I fancy the white cliffs,
	And dream upon thee; 
But the cloud spreads its wings
	To the blue heaven and flies. 
We never shall meet, love,
	Except in the skies!



Thomas Hood


Thomas Hood's other poems:
  1. Written in Keats' Endymion
  2. Ode on a Distant Prospect of Clapham Academy
  3. To My Daughter on Her Birthday
  4. The Two Peacocks of Bedfont
  5. Ballad (She's up and gone, the graceless girl)


Poems of the other poets with the same name:

  • Lucy Montgomery The Exile ("We told her that her far off shore was bleak and dour to view")
  • Laura Temple The Exile ("Uprais'd the Sun his golden head")

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