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Art Thou Already Weary Of The Way? (sonnet) Art Thou Already Weary Of The Way? (sonnet)

Art Thou Already Weary Of The Way? (sonnet)
Art thou already weary of the way? Thou who hast yet but half the way gone o'er: Get up, and lift thy burthen: lo, beforeThy feet the road goes stretching far away.If thou already faint, who hast but comeThrough half thy pilgrimage, with fellows gay,Love, youth, and hope, under the rosy bloomAnd temperate airs, of early breaking day;Look yonder, how the heavens stoop and gloom,There cease the trees to shade, the flowers to spring,And the angels leave thee; what wilt thou becomeThrough yon drear stretch of dismal wandering,Lonely and dark? I shall take courage, friend,For comes... Poems - Post by : 49655 - Date : November 2011 - Author : Fanny Kemble - Read : 1989

But To Be Still! Oh, But To Cease Awhile (sonnet) But To Be Still! Oh, But To Cease Awhile (sonnet)

But To Be Still! Oh, But To Cease Awhile (sonnet)
But to be still! oh, but to cease awhile The panting breath and hurrying steps of life, The sights, the sounds, the struggle, and the strifeOf hourly being; the sharp biting fileOf action, fretting on the tightened chainOf rough existence; all that is not pain,But utter weariness; oh! to be freeBut for a while from conscious entity!To shut the banging doors and windows wide,Of restless sense, and let the soul abideDarkly and stilly, for a little space,Gathering its strength up to pursue the race;Oh, Heavens! to rest a moment, but to restFrom this quick, gasping life, were... Poems - Post by : steve66 - Date : November 2011 - Author : Fanny Kemble - Read : 2537

Blaspheme Not Thou Thy Sacred Life, Nor Turn (sonnet) Blaspheme Not Thou Thy Sacred Life, Nor Turn (sonnet)

Blaspheme Not Thou Thy Sacred Life, Nor Turn (sonnet)
Blaspheme not thou thy sacred life, nor turn O'er joys that God hath for a season lent, Perchance to try thy spirit, and its bent,Effeminate soul and base! weakly to mourn.There lies no desert in the land of life,For e'en that tract that barrenest doth seem,Laboured of thee in faith and hope, shall teemWith heavenly harvests and rich gatherings, rife.Haply no more, music, and mirth and love,And glorious things of old and younger art,Shall of thy days make one perpetual feast;But when these bright companions all depart,Lay thou thy head upon the ample breastOf Hope, and thou... Poems - Post by : eolivlpn - Date : November 2011 - Author : Fanny Kemble - Read : 3292

Like One Who Walketh In A Plenteous Land (sonnet) Like One Who Walketh In A Plenteous Land (sonnet)

Like One Who Walketh In A Plenteous Land (sonnet)
Like one who walketh in a plenteous land, By flowing waters, under shady trees, Through sunny meadows the summer beesFeed in the thyme and clover; on each handFair gardens lying of fruit and flowerThe bounteous season hath poured out its dower:Where saffron skies roof in the earth with light,And birds sing thankfully towards Heaven, while heWith a sad heart walks through this jubilee,Beholding how beyond this happy land,Stretches a thirsty desert of gray sand,Where all the air is one thick, leaden blight,Where all things dwarf and dwindle,--so walk I,Through my rich, present life, to what... Poems - Post by : rwtilton - Date : November 2011 - Author : Fanny Kemble - Read : 528

Though Thou Return Unto The Former Things (sonnet) Though Thou Return Unto The Former Things (sonnet)

Though Thou Return Unto The Former Things (sonnet)
Though thou return unto the former things,Fields, woods, and gardens thy feet have strayedIn other days, and not a bough, branch, bladeOf tree, or meadow, but the same appearsAs when thou lovedst them in former years,They shall not seem the same; the spirit bringsChange from the inward, though the outward beE'en as it was, when thou didst weep to seeIt last, and spak'st that prophecy of pain,"Farewell! I shall not look on ye again!"And so thou never didst--no, though e'en now Thine eyes behold all they so loved of yore, The Thou that did behold... Poems - Post by : NetCoach - Date : November 2011 - Author : Fanny Kemble - Read : 2858

Say Thou Not Sadly, 'never,' And 'no More,' (sonnet) Say Thou Not Sadly, "never," And "no More," (sonnet)

Say Thou Not Sadly, 'never,' And 'no More,' (sonnet)
Say thou not sadly, "never," and "no more," But from thy lips banish those falsest words;While life remains that which was thine beforeAgain may be thine; in Time's storehouse lie Days, hours, and moments, that have unknown hoardsOf joy, as well as sorrow: passing by,Smiles, come with tears; therefore with hopeful eyeLook thou on dear things, though they turn away,For thou and they, perchance, some future dayShall meet again, and the gone bliss return;For its departure then make thou no mourn,But with stout heart bid what thou lov'st farewell;That which the past hath given the future gives... Poems - Post by : imported_n/a - Date : November 2011 - Author : Fanny Kemble - Read : 2791

Lines For Music (good Night! From Music's Softest Spell) Lines For Music (good Night! From Music's Softest Spell)

Lines For Music (good Night! From Music's Softest Spell)
Good night! from music's softest spell Go to thy dreams: and in thy slumbers,Fairies, with magic harp and shell, Sing o'er to thee thy own sweet numbers.Good night! from Hope's intense desire Go to thy dreams: and may to-morrow,Love with the sun returning, fire These evening mists of doubt and sorrow.Good night! from hours of weary waking I'll to my dreams: still in my sleepTo feel the spirit's restless aching, And ev'n with eyelids closed, to weep.(The end)Fanny Kemble's poem: Lines For Music... Poems - Post by : 5StarPub - Date : November 2011 - Author : Fanny Kemble - Read : 2438

Epistle From The Rhine Epistle From The Rhine

Epistle From The Rhine
To Y---, with a bowl of Bohemian glass.From rocky hills climbs the vine;Where on his waves the wandering RhineSees imaged ruins, towns and towers,Bare mountain scalps, green forest bowers;From that broad land of poetry,Wild legend, noble history,This token many a day bore I,To lay it at your feet, dear Y---.Little the stupid bowl will tellOf all that on its way befell,Since from old Frankfort's free domain,Where smiling vineyards skirt the main,It took its way; what sunsets redTheir splendours o'er the mountains shed,How the blue Taunus' distant heightLike hills of fire gave back the light,And how, on river, rock, and sky,The... Poems - Post by : imported_n/a - Date : November 2011 - Author : Fanny Kemble - Read : 1741

To --- (what Recks The Sun, How Weep The Heavy Flowers) To --- (what Recks The Sun, How Weep The Heavy Flowers)

To --- (what Recks The Sun, How Weep The Heavy Flowers)
What recks the sun, how weep the heavy flowers All the sad night, when he is far away?What recks he, how they mourn, through those dark hours, Till back again he leads the smiling day?As lifts each watery bloom its tearful eye, And blesses from its lowly seat, the god,In his great glory he goes through the sky, And recks not of the blessing from the sod.And what is it to thee, oh, thou, my fate! That all my hope, and joy, remains with thee?That thy departing, leaves me desolate,... Poems - Post by : gmangin - Date : November 2011 - Author : Fanny Kemble - Read : 1854

Lines, Written In London Lines, Written In London

Lines, Written In London
Struggle not with thy life!--the heavy doom Resist not, it will bow thee like a slave:Strive not! thou shalt not conquer; to thy tomb Thou shalt go crushed, and ground, though ne'er so brave.Complain not of thy life!--for what art thou More than thy fellows, that thou should'st not weep?Brave thoughts still lodge beneath a furrowed brow, And the way-wearied have the sweetest sleep.Marvel not at thy life!--patience shall see The perfect work of wisdom to her given;Hold fast thy soul through this high mystery, And it shall lead... Poems - Post by : dolorespepper - Date : November 2011 - Author : Fanny Kemble - Read : 581

Return Return

Return
When the bright sun back on his yearly road Comes towards us, his great glory seems to me,As from the sky he pours it all abroad, A golden herald, my beloved, of thee.When from the south the gentle winds do blow, Calling the flowers that sleep beneath the earth,It sounds like sweetest music, that doth go Before thy coming, full of love and mirth.When one by one the violets appear, Opening their purple vests so modestly,To greet the virgin daughter of the year, Each seems a fragrant prophecy of... Poems - Post by : bnthroop - Date : November 2011 - Author : Fanny Kemble - Read : 2754

Absence Absence

Absence
What shall I do with all the days and hours That must be counted ere I see thy face?How shall I charm the interval that lowers Between this time and that sweet time of grace?Shall I in slumber steep each weary sense, Weary with longing?--shall I flee awayInto past days, and with some fond pretence Cheat myself to forget the present day?Shall love for thee lay on my soul the sin Of casting from me God's great gift of time;Shall I these mists of memory locked within, Leave, and... Poems - Post by : moorea - Date : November 2011 - Author : Fanny Kemble - Read : 3050

The Prayer Of A Lonely Heart The Prayer Of A Lonely Heart

The Prayer Of A Lonely Heart
I am alone--oh be thou near to me,Great God! from whom the meanest are not far.Not in presumption of the daring spirit,Striving to find the secrets of itself,Make I my weeping prayer; in the deep wantOf utter loneliness, my God! I seek thee;If the worm may creep up to thy fellowship,Or dust, instinct with yearning, rise towards thee.I have no fellow, Father! of my kind;None that be kindred, none companion to me,And the vast love, and harmony, and brotherhood,Of the dumb creatures thou hast made below me,Vexes my soul with its own bitter lot.Around me grow the trees, each by the... Poems - Post by : RoseJac - Date : November 2011 - Author : Fanny Kemble - Read : 1026

Lines, Addressed To The Young Gentlemen Leaving The Academy At Lenox, Massachuse Lines, Addressed To The Young Gentlemen Leaving The Academy At Lenox, Massachuse

Lines, Addressed To The Young Gentlemen Leaving The Academy At Lenox, Massachuse
Life is before ye--and while now ye standEager to spring upon the promised land,Fair smiles the way yet your feet have trodBut few light steps, upon a flowery sod;Round ye are youth's green bowers, and to your eyesTh' horizon's line joins earth with the bright skies;Daring and triumph, pleasure, fame, and joy,Friendship unwavering, love without alloy,Brave thoughts of noble deeds, and glory won,Like angels, beckon ye to venture on.And if o'er the bright scene some shadows rise,Far off they seem, at hand the sunshine lies;The distant clouds, which of ye pause to fear?Shall not a brightness gild them when more... Poems - Post by : mlmpro - Date : November 2011 - Author : Fanny Kemble - Read : 1031

Impromptu, Written Among The Ruins Of The Sonnenberg Impromptu, Written Among The Ruins Of The Sonnenberg

Impromptu, Written Among The Ruins Of The Sonnenberg
Thou who within thyself dost not beholdRuins as great as these, though not as old,Can'st scarce through life have travelled many a year,Or lack'st the spirit of a pilgrim here.Youth hath its walls of strength, its towers of pride;Love, its warm hearth-stones; Hope, its prospects wide;Life's fortress in thee, held these one, and all,And they have fallen to ruin, or shall fall.(The end)Fanny Kemble's poem: Impromptu, Written Among The Ruins Of The Sonnenberg... Poems - Post by : JohnWilliams - Date : November 2011 - Author : Fanny Kemble - Read : 2371

To Mrs. Dulaney To Mrs. Dulaney

To Mrs. Dulaney
What was thine errand here?Thy beauty was more exquisite than aught That from this marred earth Takes its imperfect birth;It was a radiant, heavenly beauty, caught From some far higher sphere,And though an angel now, thou still must bearThe lovely semblance that thou here didst wear. What was thine errand here?Thy gentle thoughts, and holy, humble mind, With earthly creatures coarse, Held not discourse,But with fine spirits, of some purer kind,... Poems - Post by : gjdepol71 - Date : November 2011 - Author : Fanny Kemble - Read : 2084

Song (pass Thy Hand Through My Hair, Lore;) Song (pass Thy Hand Through My Hair, Lore;)

Song (pass Thy Hand Through My Hair, Lore;)
Pass thy hand through my hair, lore; One little year ago, In a curtain bright and rare, love, It fell golden o'er my brow. But the gold has passed away, love, And the drooping curls are thin, And cold threads of wintry gray, love, Glitter their folds within:How should this be, in one short year?It is not age--can it be care? Fasten thine eyes on mine, love; One... Poems - Post by : Theona - Date : November 2011 - Author : Fanny Kemble - Read : 561

Written After Spending A Day At West Point Written After Spending A Day At West Point

Written After Spending A Day At West Point
Were they but dreams? Upon the darkening worldEvening comes down, the wings of fire are furled,On which the day soared to the sunny west:The moon sits calmly, like a soul at rest,Looking upon the never-resting earth;All things in heaven wait on the solemn birthOf night, but where has fled the happy dreamThat at this hour, last night, our life did seem?Where are the mountains with their tangled hair,The leafy hollow, and the rocky stair?Where are the shadows of the solemn hills,And the fresh music of the summer rills?Where are the wood-paths, winding, long and steep,And the great, glorious river, broad... Poems - Post by : coolit - Date : November 2011 - Author : Fanny Kemble - Read : 3175

An Apology An Apology

An Apology
Blame not my tears, love: to you has been given The brightest, best gift, God to mortals allows;The sunlight of hope on your heart shines from Heaven, And shines from your heart, on this life and its woes.Blame not my tears, love: on you her best treasure Kind nature has lavish'd, oh, long be it yours!For how barren soe'er be the path you now measure, The future still woos you with hands full of flowers.Oh, ne'er be that gift, love, withdrawn from thy keeping! The jewel of life, its strong spirit,... Poems - Post by : Jason_Tarasi - Date : November 2011 - Author : Fanny Kemble - Read : 658

Fragment From An Epistle Written When The Thermometer Stood At 98 Degrees In The Fragment From An Epistle Written When The Thermometer Stood At 98 Degrees In The

Fragment From An Epistle Written When The Thermometer Stood At 98 Degrees In The
Oh! for the temperate airs that blow Upon that darling of the sea,Where neither sunshine, rain, nor snow, For three days hold supremacy;But ever-varying skies contendThe blessings of all climes to lend,To make that tiny, wave-rocked isle,In never-fading beauty smile.England, oh England! for the breezeThat slowly stirs thy forest-trees!Thy ferny brooks, thy mossy fountains,Thy beechen woods, thy heathery mountains,Thy lawny uplands the shadow Of many a giant oak is sleeping;The tangled copse, the sunny meadow, Through which the summer rills run weeping.Oh, land of flowers! while sinking here Beneath the... Poems - Post by : JKinakin - Date : November 2011 - Author : Fanny Kemble - Read : 1007