IN  ITHACA

By
Andrew Lang
1844 - 1912

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'Tis thought Odysseus, when the strife was o'er

With all the waves and wars, a weary while,

Grew restless in his disenchanted isle,

And still would watch the sunset, from the shore,

Go down the waves of gold; and evermore

His sad heart follow'd after, mile on mile,

Back to the Goddess of the magic wile ---

Calypso, and the love that was of yore.

Thou too, thy haven gain'd, must turn thee yet

To look across the sad and stormy space,

Years of a youth as bitter as the sea,

Ah !   with a heavy heart and eyelids wet:

Because within a fair forsaken place

The life that might have been is loss to thee.
 

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