Poems About Missing Someone

Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing,And like enough thou know'st thy estimate:The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing,My bonds in thee are all determinate.

For how do I hold thee but by thy granting?And for that riches where is my deserving?The cause of this fair gift in me is wanting,And so my patent back again is swerving.

Thyself thou gav'st, thy own worth then not knowing,Or me, to whom thou gav'st it, else mistaking;So thy great gift, upon misprision growing,Comes home again, on better judgement making.

Thus have I had thee as a dream doth flatter;In sleep, a king; but waking, no such matter.

Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,Tears from the depth of some divine despairRise in the heart, and gather to the eyes,In looking on the happy autumn fields,And thinking of the days that are no more.Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail,That brings our friends up from the under world;Sad as the last which reddens over oneThat sinks with all we love below the verge,--So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.

Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawnsThe earliest pipe of half-awakened birdsTo dying ears, when unto dying eyesThe casement slowly grows a glimmering square;So sad, so strange, the days that are no more.

Dear as remembered kisses after death,And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feignedOn lips that are for others; deep as love,Deep as first love and wild with all regret,--O Death in Life, the days that are no more.

I have had playmates, I have had companionsIn my days of childhood, in my joyful school-days;All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.

I have been laughing, I have been carousing,Drinking late, sitting late, with my bosom cronies;All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.

I loved a Love once, fairest among women:Closed are her doors on me, I must not see her--All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.

I have a friend, a kinder friend has no man:Like an ingrate, I left my friend abruptly;Left him, to muse on the old familiar faces.

Ghost-like I paced round the haunts of my childhood,Earth seem'd a desert I was bound to traverse,Seeking to find the old familiar faces.

Friend of my bosom, thou more than a brother,Why wert not thou born in my father's dwelling?So might we talk of the old familiar faces,

How some they have died, and some they have left me,And some are taken from me; all are departed;All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.

Ae fond kiss, and then we sever;Ae fareweel, alas, for ever!Deep in heart-wrung tears I’ll pledge thee,Warring sighs and groans I’ll wage thee!

Who shall say that Fortune grieves himWhile the star of hope she leaves him?Me, nae cheerfu’ twinkle lights me,Dark despair around benights me.

I’ll ne’er blame my partial fancy;Naething could resist my Nancy;But to see her was to love her,Love but her, and love for ever.

Had we never loved sae kindly,Had we never loved sae blindly,Never met--or never parted,We had ne’er been broken-hearted.

Fare thee weel, thou first and fairest!Fare thee weel, thou best and dearest!Thine be ilka joy and treasure,Peace, enjoyment, love, and pleasure!

Ae fond kiss, and then we sever!Ae fareweel, alas, for ever!Deep in heart-wrung tears I’ll pledge thee,Warring sighs and groans I’ll wage thee!

Of a' the airts the wind can blaw I dearly like the West,For there the bonnie lassie lives, The lassie I lo'e best:There wild woods grow, and rivers row, And mony a hill between;But day and night my fancy's flight Is ever wi' my Jean.

I see her in the dewy flowers, I see her sweet and fair:I hear her in the tunefu' birds, I hear her charm the air:

If to be absent were to be Away from thee; Or that when I am gone You or I were alone; Then, my Lucasta, might I cravePity from blustering wind or swallowing wave.

But I’ll not sigh one blast or gale To swell my sail, Or pay a tear to ’suage The foaming blue god’s rage; For whether he will let me passOr no, I’m still as happy as I was.

Though seas and land betwixt us both, Our faith and troth, Like separated souls, All time and space controls: Above the highest sphere we meetUnseen, unknown; and greet as Angels greet.

So then we do anticipate Our after-fate, And are alive i’ the skies, If thus our lips and eyes Can speak like spirits unconfinedIn Heaven, their earthy bodies left behind.

Maid of Athens, ere we part,Give, O, give me back my heart!Or, since that has left my breast,Keep it now, and take the rest!Hear my vow before I go, [Greek: Zoe moy sas hagapo.]

By those tresses unconfined,Wooed by each AEgean wind;By those lids whose jetty fringeKiss thy soft cheeks' blooming tinge;By those wild eyes like the roe, [Greek: Zoe moy sas hagapo.]

By that lip I long to taste;By that zone-encircled waist;By all the token-flowers that tellWhat words can never speak so well;By love's alternate joy and woe, [Greek: Zoe moy sas hagapo.]

Maid of Athens! I am gone.Think of me, sweet! when alone.Though I fly to Istambol,Athens holds my heart and soul:Can I cease to love thee? No! [Greek: Zoe moy sas hagapo.]

As slow our ship her foamy track Against the wind was cleaving,Her trembling pennant still look'd back To that dear isle 'twas leaving.So loth we part from all we love, From all the links that bind us;So turn our hearts, as on we rove, To those we've left behind us!

When, round the bowl, of vanish'd years We talk with joyous seeming--With smiles that might as well be tears, So faint, so sad their beaming;

The little gate was reached at last, Half hid in lilacs down the lane;She pushed it wide, and, as she past,A wistful look she backward cast, And said,--"Auf wiedersehen!"With hand on latch, a vision white Lingered reluctant, and againHalf doubting if she did aright,Soft as the dews that fell that night, She said,--"Auf wiedersehen!"

The lamp's clear gleam flits up the stair; I linger in delicious pain;

Where the thistle lifts a purple crown Six foot out of the turf,And the harebell shakes on the windy hill-- O the breath of the distant surf!--

The hills look over on the South, And southward dreams the sea;And, with the sea-breeze hand in hand, Came innocence and she.

Where 'mid the gorse the raspberry Red for the gatherer springs,Two children did we stray and talk Wise, idle, childish things.

Farewell to Lochaber! and farewell, my Jean,Where heartsome with thee I hae mony day been;For Lochaber no more, Lochaber no more,We'll maybe return to Lochaber no more!These tears that I shed they are a' for my dear,And no for the dangers attending on wear,Though borne on rough seas to a far bloody shore,Maybe to return to Lochaber no more.

Though hurricanes rise, and rise every wind,They'll ne'er make a tempest like that in my mind;Though loudest of thunder on louder waves roar,That's naething like leaving my love on the shore.To leave thee behind me my heart is sair pained;By ease that's inglorious no fame can be gained;And beauty and love's the reward of the brave,And I must deserve it before I can crave.

Then glory, my Jeany, maun plead my excuse;Since honor commands me, how can I refuse?Without it I ne'er can have merit for thee,And without thy favor I'd better not be.I gae then, my lass, to win honor and fame,And if I should luck to come gloriously hame,I'll bring a heart to thee with love running o'er,And then I'll leave thee and Lochaber no more.

I've wandered east, I've wandered west, Through mony a weary way;But never, never can forget The luve o' life's young day!The fire that's blawn on Beltane e'en May weel be black gin Yule;But blacker fa' awaits the heart Where first fond luve grows cule.

O dear, dear Jeanie Morrison, The thochts o' bygane yearsStill fling their shadows ower my path, And blind my een wi' tears:

Come to me, dearest, I'm lonely without thee,Daytime and night-time, I'm thinking about thee;Night-time and daytime, in dreams I behold thee;Unwelcome the waking which ceases to fold thee.Come to me, darling, my sorrows to lighten,Come in thy beauty to bless and to brighten;Come in thy womanhood, meekly and lowly,Come in thy lovingness, queenly and holy.

Swallows will flit round the desolate ruin,Telling of spring and its joyous renewing;And thoughts of thy love, and its manifold treasure,Are circling my heart with a promise of pleasure.

Linger not long. Home is not home without thee: Its dearest tokens do but make me mourn.O, let its memory, like a chain about thee, Gently compel and hasten thy return!

Linger not long. Though crowds should woo thy staying, Bethink thee, can the mirth of thy friends, though dear,Compensate for the grief thy long delaying Costs the fond heart that sighs to have thee here?

Linger not long. How shall I watch thy coming, As evening shadows stretch o'er moor and dell;When the wild bee hath ceased her busy humming, And silence hangs on all things like a spell!

How shall I watch for thee, when fears grow stronger,As night grows dark and darker on the hill!How shall I weep, when I can watch no longer! Ah! art thou absent, art thou absent still?

Yet I shall grieve not, though the eye that seeth me Gazeth through tears that makes its splendor dull;For oh! I sometimes fear when thou art with me, My cup of happiness is all too full.

Haste, haste thee home unto thy mountain dwelling, Haste, as a bird unto its peaceful nest!Haste, as a skiff, through tempests wide and swelling, Flies to its haven of securest rest!

I am undone: there is no living, none,If Bertram be away. It were all one,That I should love a bright particular star,And think to wed it, he is so above me:In his bright radiance and collateral lightMust I be comforted, not in his sphere.The ambition in my love thus plagues itself:The hind that would be mated by the lionMust die for love. 'Twas pretty, though a plague,To see him every hour; to sit and drawHis arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls,In our heart's table,--heart too capableOf every line and trick of his sweet favor:But now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancyMust sanctify his relics.

Adieu, adieu! my native shore Fades o'er the waters blue;The night-winds sigh, the breakers roar, And shrieks the wild sea-mew.Yon sun that sets upon the sea We follow in his flight;Farewell awhile to him and thee, My native Land--Good Night!

A few short hours, and he will rise To give the morrow birth;And I shall hail the main and skies, But not my mother earth.Deserted is my own good hall, Its hearth is desolate;Wild weeds are gathering on the wall; My dog howls at the gate.

Fare thee well! and if forever, Still forever, fare thee well;Even though unforgiving, never 'Gainst thee shall my heart rebel.

Would that breast were bared before thee Where thy head so oft hath lain,While that placid sleep came o'er thee Which thou ne'er canst know again:

Would that breast, by thee glanced over, Every inmost thought could show!Then thou wouldst at last discover 'Twas not well to spurn it so.

O, saw ye bonnie Leslie As she gaed o'er the border?She's gane, like Alexander, To spread her conquests farther.

To see her is to love her, And love but her forever;For nature made her what she is, And ne'er made sic anither!

Thou art a queen, fair Leslie, Thy subjects we, before thee;Thou art divine, fair Leslie, The hearts o' men adore thee.

The deil he could na scaith thee, Or aught that wad belang thee;He'd look into thy bonnie face, And say, "I canna wrang thee!"

The Powers aboon will tent thee; Misfortune sha' na steer thee;Thou'rt like themselves sae lovely That ill they 'll ne'er let near thee.

Return again, fair Leslie, Return to Caledonie!That we may brag we hae a lass There's nane again sae bonnie.

Farewell!--but whenever you welcome the hourThat awakens the night-song of mirth in your bower.Then think of the friend that once welcomed it too.And forgot his own griefs, to be happy with you.His griefs may return--not a hope may remainOf the few that have brightened his pathway of pain--But he ne'er can forget the short vision that threwIts enchantment around him while lingering with you!

And still on that evening when Pleasure fills upTo the highest top sparkle each heart and each cup,Where'er my path lies, be it gloomy or bright,My soul, happy friends! will be with you that night;Shall join in your revels, your sports, and your wiles,And return to me, beaming all o'er with your smiles--Too blest if it tell me that, 'mid the gay cheer,Some kind voice has murmured, "I wish he were here!"

Let Fate do her worst, there are relics of joy,Bright dreams of the past, which she cannot destroy;Which come in the night-time of sorrow and care,And bring back the features which joy used to wear.Long, long be my heart with such memories filled!Like the vase in which roses have once been distilled--You may break, you may shatter the vase, if you will,But the scent of the roses will hang round it still.

Not to understand a treasure's worthTill time has stol'n away the slighted good,Is cause of half the poverty we feel,And makes the world the wilderness it is.

Her window opens to the bay,On glistening light or misty gray,And there at dawn and set of day In prayer she kneels:"Dear Lord!" she saith, "to many a homeFrom wind and wave the wanderers come;I only see the tossing foam Of stranger keels.

"Blown out and in by summer gales,The stately ships, with crowded sails,And sailors leaning o'er their rails, Before me glide;

Still thirteen years: 't is autumn now On field and hill, in heart and brain;The naked trees at evening sough;The leaf to the forsaken bough Sighs not,--"Auf wiedersehen!"

Two watched yon oriole's pendent dome, That now is void, and dank with rain,And one,--oh, hope more frail than foam!The bird to his deserted home Sings not,--"Auf wiedersehen!"

The loath gate swings with rusty creak; Once, parting there, we played at pain;

What shall I do with all the days and hours That must be counted ere I see thy face?How shall I charm the interval that lowers Between this time and that sweet time of grace?

Shall I in slumber steep each weary sense, Weary with longing?--shall I flee awayInto past days, and with some fond pretence Cheat myself to forget the present day?

Shall love for thee lay on my soul the sin Of casting from me God's great gift of time?Shall I, these mists of memory locked within, Leave and forget life's purposes sublime?

Since there's no helpe,--come, let us kisse and parte, Nay, I have done,--you get no more of me;And I am glad,--yea, glad with all my hearte, That thus so cleanly I myselfe can free.Shake hands forever!--cancel all our vows; And when we meet at any time againe,Be it not seene in either of our brows, That we one jot of former love retaine.

Now--at the last gaspe of Love's latest breath-- When, his pulse failing, Passion speechless lies;When Faith is kneeling by his bed of death, And Innocence is closing up his eyes,Now! if thou wouldst--when all have given him over-- From death to life thou mightst him yet recover.

Tell me not, sweet, I am unkinde, That from the nunnerieOf thy chaste breast and quiet minde, To warre and armes I flee.

True, a new mistresse now I chase.-- The first foe in the field;And with a stronger faith imbrace A sword, a horse, a shield.

Yet this inconstancy is such As you, too, shall adore;I could not love thee, deare, so much, Loved I not honour more.

If thou dost bid thy friend farewell,But for one night though that farewell may be,Press thou his hand in thine.How canst thou tell how far from theeFate or caprice may lead his steps ere that to-morrow comes?Men have been known to lightly turn the corner of a street,And days have grown to months, and months to lagging years,Ere they have looked in loving eyes again.Parting, at best, is underlaidWith tears and pain.Therefore, lest sudden death should come between.Or time, or distance, clasp with pressure firmThe hand of him who goeth forth;Unseen, Fate goeth too.Yes, find thou always time to say some earnest wordBetween the idle talk,Lest with thee henceforth,Night and day, regret should walk.

As ships, becalmed at eve, that lay With canvas drooping, side by side,Two towers of sail at dawn of day Are scarce long leagues apart descried.

When fell the night, up sprang the breeze, And all the darkling hours they plied,Nor dreamt but each the selfsame seas By each was cleaving, side by side:

E'en so,--but why the tale reveal Of those whom, year by year unchanged,Brief absence joined anew to feel, Astounded, soul from soul estranged?

O, wad that my time were owre but, Wi' this wintry sleet and snaw,That I might see our house again, I' the bonnie birken shaw!For this is no my ain life, And I peak and pine awayWi' the thochts o' hame and the young flowers, In the glad green month of May.

I used to wauk in the morning Wi' the loud sang o' the lark,And the whistling o' the ploughman lads, As they gaed to their wark;

Day, in melting purple dying;Blossoms, all around me sighing;Fragrance, from the lilies straying;Zephyr, with my ringlets playing; Ye but waken my distress; I am sick of loneliness!

Thou, to whom I love to hearken,Come, ere night around me darken;Though thy softness but deceive me,Say thou'rt true, and I'll believe thee; Veil, if ill, thy soul's intent, Let me think it innocent!

What ails this heart o' mine? What ails this watery ee?What gars me a' turn pale as death When I take leave o' thee?Whea thou art far awa', Thou'lt dearer grow to me;But change o' place and change o' folk May gar thy fancy jee.

When I gae out at e'en, Or walk at morning air,Ilk rustling bush will seem to say I used to meet thee there:Then I'll sit down and cry, And live aneath the tree,And when a leaf fa's i' my lap, I'll ca't a word frae thee.

I'll hie me to the bower That thou wi' roses tied,And where wi' mony a blushing bud I strove myself to hide.I'll doat on ilka spot Where I ha'e been wi' thee;And ca' to mind some kindly word By ilka burn and tree.