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My Doves by Elizabeth Barrett Browning









My Doves

by Elizabeth Barrett Browning


My little doves have left a nest

Upon an Indian tree,

Whose leaves fantastic take their rest

Or motion from the sea;

For, ever there the sea-winds go

With sunlit paces to and fro.


The tropic flowers looked up to it.

The tropic stars looked down,

And there my little doves did sit

With feathers soft and brown,

And glittering eyes that showed their right

To general Nature's deep delight.


My little doves were ta'en away

From that glad nest of theirs,

Across an ocean rolling grey,

And tempest-clouded airs.

My little doves who lately knew

The sky and wave by warmth and blue.


And now, within the city prison

In mist and chillness pent,

With sudden upward look their listen

For sounds of past content,

For lapse of water, smell of breeze,

Or nut-fruit falling from the trees.