Page:Poems Terry, 1861.djvu/219

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TRANSLATIONS.

THE MOURNING DOVE. (From the Hebrew.)
Alas! for I am flying
Through deserts lone and dreary,
In rocks and caverns lying,
With downcast soul and weary;
The tempest whirling o'er me,
My fluttering wing repelling,
The forest spread before me,
One lonely bough my dwelling.

My God forsakes the altar
Whereon His anger burneth,
And where my weak steps falter,
His wrath a whirlwind turneth;
I pined for strange caresses,—
For aliens madly yearning
Betrayed the hand that blesses,
And foes beheld my turning.