I am a stranger in the land;
It gives no welcome dear;
- lilies bloom not for my hand, Its roses for my cheer.
- sunshine used to make me glad, But now it knows me not;
This weight of brightness makes me sad--
It isolates a blot.
I am forgotten by the hills,
And by the river's play;
No look of recognition thrills
The features of the day.
Then only am I moved to song,
When down the darkening street,
While vanishes the scattered throng,
The driving rain I meet.
- rain pours down. My thoughts awake, Like flowers that languished long;
From bare cold hills the night-winds break,
From me the unwonted song.