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Full Online Book HomePoemsArt Thou Already Weary Of The Way? (sonnet)
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Art Thou Already Weary Of The Way? (sonnet) Post by :49655 Category :Poems Author :Fanny Kemble Date :November 2011 Read :2126

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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, before
Thy feet the road goes stretching far away.
If thou already faint, who hast but come
Through half thy pilgrimage, with fellows gay,
Love, youth, and hope, under the rosy bloom
And 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 become
Through yon drear stretch of dismal wandering,
Lonely and dark? I shall take courage, friend,
For comes not every step more near the end?

(The end)
Fanny Kemble's poem: Art Thou Already Weary Of The Way? (Sonnet)

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The Peace To Be The Peace To Be

The Peace To Be
Quell this consuming fever, quickly give Some drug of poppies white!--But Peace will come?O ashen savourless alternative, Quietude of the blind and deaf and dumbThat all swift motions must alike assuage,-- When we are exiled from youth's golden hostsTo pace the calm cold terraces of age, With unvexed senses, being but houseled ghosts,Wise, with the uncoloured wisdom of the souls With whom great passions have no more to do,Serene, since ours the dusty arles Death doles, Oblivions

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