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Poem by Charles Wolfe
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Oh say not that my heart is cold To aught that once could warm it - That Nature's Form so dear of old No more has power to charm it; Or that th' ungenerous world can chill One glow of fond emotion For those who made it dearer still, And shared my wild devotion. Still oft those solemn scenes I view In rapt and dreamy sadness; Oft look on those who loved them too With Fancy's idle gladness; Again I longed to view the light In Nature's features glowing; Again to tread the mountain's height, And taste the soul's o'erflowing. Stern Duty rose, and frowning flung His leaden chain around me; With iron look and sullen tongue He muttered as he bound me - 'The mountain breeze, the boundless heaven, Unfit for toil the creature; These for the free alone were given, - But what have slaves with Nature?'
Charles Wolfe's other poems:
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