Author Anna Wickham When I love most ā I am turned psalmist. I have expression from my wrong. I bay like a ghost-scenting hound, " Where is God hid? for I would smite him with a song. " Come back, Jehovah, Give me cover. Come back, old god, For I have lost my lover. Tags Short Poems Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments