Adam Lindsay Gordon (19 October 1833 – 24 June 1870 / Azores)
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Scene 1. A Castle in Normandy
Well, boy, what is it?
The feast is spread.
Why tarry the guests for me?
Let Eric sit at the table's head;
Alone I desire to be.
[Henry goes out.]
What share have I at their festive board?
Their mirth I can only mar;
To me no pleasure their cups afford,
Their songs on my silence jar.
With an aching eye and a throbbing brain,
And yet with a hopeful heart,
I must toil and strain with the planets again
When the rays of the sun depart;
He who must needs with the topers tope,
And the feasters feast in the hall,
How can he hope with a matter to cope
That is immaterial?
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