““The Lost Tribe How long, how long must I regret? I never found my people yet; I go about, but cannot find The blood-relations of the mind Through my little sphere I range, And though I wither do not change; Must not change a jot, lest they Should not know me on my way. Sometimes I think when I am dead They will come about my bed, For my people well do know When to come and when to go. I know not why I am alone, Nor where my wandering tribe is gone, But be they few, or be they far, Would I were where my people are!””
