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Poem by Thomas MacDonagh


In Absence


Last night I read your letters once again--
Read till the dawn filled all my room with grey;
Then quenched my light and put the leaves away,
And prayed for sleep to ease my heart's great pain.
But ah! that poignant tenderness made vain
My hope of rest -- I could not sleep or pray
For thought of you, and the slow, broadening day
Held me there prisoner of my throbbing brain.

Yet I did sleep before the silence broke,
And dream, but not of you -- the old dreams rife
With duties which would bind me to the yoke
Of my old futile, lone, reluctant life:
I stretched my hands for help in the vain strife,
And grasped these leaves, and to this pain awoke. 



Thomas MacDonagh


Thomas MacDonagh's other poems:
  1. A Season Of Repose
  2. Uber Allen Gipfellen Ist Ruh
  3. Requies
  4. Offering
  5. Inscription on a Ruin


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