Classic Poem

If I had words, if I had words
At least to vent my misery: —
But muter than the speechless herds
I have no voice wherewith to cry.
I have no strength to life my hands,
I have no heart to lift mine eye,
My soul is bound with brazen bands,
My soul is crushed and like to die.
My thoughts that wander here and there,
That wander wander listlessly,
Bring nothing back to cheer my care,
Nothing that I may live thereby.
My heart is broken in my breast,
My breath is but a broken sigh —
Oh if there be a land of rest
It is far off, it is not nigh.
If I had wings as hath a dove,
If I had wings that I might fly,
I yet would seek the land of love
Where fountains run which run not dry;
Tho' there be none that road to tell,
And long that road is verily:
Then if I lived I should do well,
And if I died I should but die.
If I had wings as hath a dove
I would not sift the what and why,
I would make haste to find out love,
If not to find at least to try.
I would make haste to love, my rest;
To love, my truth that doth not lie:
Then if I lived it might be best,
Or if I died I could but die.