A Silent Wood O silent wood, I enter thee In thy darkest shadow let me sit Gazing through the gloom like one Can God bring back the day when we two stood
Elizabeth Eleanor Siddal
With a heart so full of misery
For all the voices from the trees
And the ferns that cling about my knees.
When the grey owls about thee flit;
There will I ask of thee a boon,
That I may not faint or die or swoon.
Whose life and hopes are also done,
Frozen like a thing of stone
I sit in thy shadow – but not alone.
Beneath the clinging trees in that dark wood?
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