(An American Homeward-Bound)

Further and further we leave the scene
    Of war—and of England’ s care;
I try to keep my mind serene—
    But my heart stays there;

For a distant song of pain and wrong
    My spirit doth deep confuse,
And I sit all day on the deck, and long—
    And long for news!

I seem to see them in battle-line—
    Heroes with hearts of gold,
But of their victory a sign
    The Fates withhold;

And the hours too tardy-footed pass,
    The voiceless hush grows dense
’Mid the imaginings, alas!
    That feed suspense.

Oh, might I lie on the wind, or fly
    In the willful sea-bird’s track,
Would I hurry on, with a homesick cry—
    Or hasten back?