Exiled

(‘Woe to the man who takes two wives!
Woe to the landsman who loves the seas!
But woe to that man a hundred-fold,
Gives his heart to two countries! ‘)

I lie awake twixt three and five,
When the dawn is gloomy gray,
And the maple trees are shivering
With waiting for the day.

And I dare not think of Sussex,
Or how the dark hills go
Like a girdle around Lewes,
Where the chalk-scars gleam like snow.

Nor how the hills of Berkshire
Ride west into the sun;
Nor how the lanes at Appledore
Down to the marshes run.

Nor how the lights of Waterloo
Spring up in the blue sky,
While dark and broad and solemn,
The Thames goes sweeping by.

And now I’m back in England
I need never wake and lie
Remembering the chalk hills
Under a wet-gray sky!

But this morning’s dawn came whispering
A faint, sad charm
Of a blue, maple shadow
Upon a white, wood farm . . .

(‘Woe to the man who has taken two wives!
Woe to the landsman who loves the seas!
But there ‘s neither peace nor sleep for the man
Who has given his heart to two countries! ‘)