The Solitary.

Alone! alone! How drear it is         Always to be alone!     In such a depth of wilderness,         The only thinking one!     The waters in their path rejoice,         The trees together sleep -     But I have not one silver voice         Upon my ear to creep!     The sun upon the silent hills         His mesh of beauty weaves,     There's music in the laughing rills         And in the whispering leaves.     The red deer like the breezes fly         To meet the bounding roe,     But I have not a human sigh         To cheer me as I go.     I've hated men - I hate them now -         But, since they are not here,     I thirst for the familiar brow -         Thirst for the stealing tear.     And I should love to see the one,         And feel the other creep,     And then again I'd be alone         Amid the forest deep.     I thought that I should love my hound,         And hear my cracking gun     Till I forgot the thrilling sound         Of voices - one by one.     I thought that in the leafy hush         Of nature, they would die;     But, as the hindered waters rush,         Resisted feelings fly     I'm weary of my lonely hut         And of its blasted tree,     The very lake is like my lot,         So silent constantly.     I've lived amid the forest gloom         Until I almost fear -     When will the thrilling voices come         My spirit thirsts to hear?