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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. Song (The stars are with the voyager)
  2. The Two Peacocks of Bedfont
  3. The Departure of Summer
  4. Ode on a Distant Prospect of Clapham Academy
  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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