Poems by Fanny Kemble Part 6

WOMAN'S LOVE.

A maiden meek, with solemn, steadfast eyes, Full of eternal constancy and faith, And smiling lips, through whose soft portal sighs Truth's holy voice, with ev'ry balmy breath; So journeys she along life's crowded way, Keeping her soul's sweet counsel from all sight; Nor pomp, nor vanity, lead her astray, Nor aught that men call dazzling, fair, or bright: For pity, sometimes, doth she pause, and stay Those whom she meeteth mourning, for her heart Knows well in suffering how to bear its part.

Patiently lives she through each dreary day, Looking with little hope unto the morrow; And still she walketh hand in hand with sorrow.

TO MRS. ---

I never shall forget thee--'tis a word Thou oft must hear, for surely there be none On whom thy wond'rous eyes have ever shone But for a moment, or who e'er have heard Thy voice's deep impa.s.sioned melody, Can lose the memory of that look or tone.

But, not as these, do I say unto thee, I never shall forget thee:--in thine eyes, Whose light, like sunshine, makes the world rejoice, A stream of sad and solemn splendour lies; And there is sorrow in thy gentle voice.

Thou art not like the scenes in which I found thee, Thou art not like the beings that surround thee; To me, thou art a dream of hope and fear; Yet why of fear?--oh sure! the Power that lent Such gifts, to make thee fair, and excellent; Still watches one whom it has deigned to bless With such a dower of grace and loveliness; Over the dangerous waves 'twill surely steer The richly freighted bark, through storm and blast, And guide it safely to the port at last.

Such is my prayer; 'tis warm as ever fell From off my lips: accept it, and farewell!

And though in this strange world where first I met thee; We meet no more--I never shall forget thee.

AN ENTREATY.

Once more, once more into the sunny fields Oh, let me stray!

And drink the joy that young existence yields In a bright, cloudless day.

Once more let me behold the summer sky, With its blue eyes, And join the wild wind's voice of melody, As far and free it flies.

Once more, once more, oh let me stand and hear The gushing spring, As its bright drops fall starlike, fast and clear, And in the sunshine sing.

Once more, oh let me list the soft sweet breeze At evening mourn: Let me, oh let me say farewell to these, And to my task I gaily will return.

Oh, lovely earth! oh, blessed smiling sky!

Oh, music of the wood, the wave, the wind!

I do but linger till my ear and eye Have traced ye on the tablets of my mind--

And then, fare ye well!

Bright hill and bosky dell, Clear spring and haunted well, Night-blowing flowers pale, Smooth lawn and lonely vale, Sleeping lakes and sparkling fountains, Shadowy woods and sheltering mountains, Flowery land and sunny sky, And echo sweet, my playmate shy; Fare ye well!--fare ye well!

LINES FOR MUSIC.

Loud wind, strong wind, where art thou blowing?

Into the air, the viewless air, To be lost there: There am I blowing.

Clear wave, swift wave, where art thou flowing?

Unto the sea, the boundless sea, To be whelm'd there: There am I flowing.

Young life, swift life, where art thou going?

Down to the grave, the loathsome grave, To moulder there: There am I going.

TO ---

When the glad sun looks smiling from the sky, Upon each shadowy glen and woody height, And that you tread those well known paths where I Have stray'd with you,--do not forget me quite.

When the warm hearth throws its bright glow around, On many a smiling cheek, and glance of light, And the gay laugh wakes with its joyous sound The soul of mirth,--do not forget me quite.

You will not miss me; for with you remain Hearts fond and warm, and spirits young and bright, 'Tis but one word--"farewell;" and all again Will seem the same,--yet don't forget me quite.

THE PARTING.

'Twas a fit hour for parting, For athwart the leaden sky The heavy clouds came gathering And sailing gloomily: The earth was drunk with heaven's tears, And each moaning autumn breeze Shook the burthen of its weeping Off the overladen trees.

The waterfall rushed swollen down, In the gloaming, still and gray; With a foam-wreath on the angry brow Of each wave that flashed away.

My tears were mingling with the rain, That fell so cold and fast, And my spirit felt thy low deep sigh Through the wild and roaring blast.

The beauty of the summer woods Lay rustling round our feet, And all fair things had pa.s.sed away-- 'Twas an hour for parting meet.

SONG.

When you mournfully rivet your tear-laden eyes, That have seen the last sunset of hope pa.s.s away, On some bright orb that seems, through the still sapphire skies, In beauty and splendour to roll on its way:

Oh, remember this earth, if beheld from afar, Appears wrapt in a halo as soft, and as bright, As the pure silver radiance enshrining yon star, Where your spirit is eagerly soaring to-night.

And at this very midnight, perhaps some poor heart, That is aching, or breaking, in that distant sphere; Gazes down on this dark world, and longs to depart From its own dismal home, to a happier one here.

TO A STAR.

Thou little star, that in the purple clouds Hang'st, like a dew-drop, in a violet bed; First gem of evening, glittering on the shrouds, 'Mid whose dark folds the day lies pale and dead: As through my tears my soul looks up to thee, Loathing the heavy chains that bind it here, There comes a fearful thought that misery Perhaps is found, even in thy distant sphere.

Art thou a world of sorrow and of sin, The heritage of death, disease, decay, A wilderness, like that we wander in, Where all things fairest, soonest pa.s.s away?