Amelia Opie

(12 November 1769 – 2 December 1853 / Norwich)

Amelia Opie Poems

1. To Lothario 1/3/2003
2. To Henry 1/3/2003
3. The Origin Of The Sail 1/3/2003
4. Stanzas To Cynthio 1/3/2003
5. Sonnet On The Approach Of Autumn 4/21/2010
6. To A Maniac 1/3/2003
7. To Lorenzo 1/3/2003
8. Songs Written To Welsh Airs 1/3/2003
9. While Many A Fond And Blooming Maid 4/21/2010
10. The Orphan Boy's Tale 4/21/2010
11. Yes, Mary Ann 1/3/2003
12. To Henry, Written To A Russian Air 1/3/2003
13. To Anna 1/3/2003
14. Song. To A Russian Air 4/21/2010
15. Song. While Many A Fond 4/21/2010
16. Song. Yes ....Though We'Ve Loved So Long 4/21/2010
17. Song. Where Dost Thou Bide 4/21/2010
18. The Mad Wanderer 1/3/2003
19. To Laura 1/3/2003
20. The Lucayan's Song 1/3/2003
21. Yes, Thou Art Changed Since First We Met 4/21/2010
22. Lines Written At Norwich On The First News Of Peace 4/21/2010
23. The Warrior's Return 1/3/2003
24. The Moon And The Comet 1/3/2003
25. Lines On The Opening Of A Spring Campaign 1/3/2003
26. On The Place De La Concorde 1/3/2003
27. Julia, Or The Convent Of St. Claire 1/3/2003
28. Ode On The Present Times, 27th January 1795 4/21/2010
29. Song: Yes, Mary Ann, I Freely Grant 12/31/2002
30. Song Written To A Hindoo Air 1/3/2003
31. You Ask Why These Mountains 4/21/2010
32. Song. Low Hung The Dark Clouds 4/21/2010
33. Lines On The Place De La Concorde At Paris, 4/21/2010
34. Song. 4/21/2010
35. On The Approach Of Autumn 1/3/2003
36. Ode, Written On The Opening Of The Last Campaign 4/21/2010
37. Ode To Borrowdale 12/31/2002
38. Ballad 1/3/2003
39. Lines Written In 1799. 12/31/2002
40. Love Elegy, To Henry 1/3/2003
Best Poem of Amelia Opie

Secret Love

Not one kind friendly word!
Wilt thou in chilling silence sit;
Nor through the social hour afford
One cheering smile, or beam of wit?

Yet still, absorbed in studious care,
Neglect to waste one look on me;
For then my happy eyes may dare
To gaze and dwell unchecked on thee.

And still in silence sit, nor deign
One gentle precious word to say;
For silent I may then remain,
Nor let my voice my soul betray.

This faltering voice, these conscious eyes,
My throbbing heart too plainly speak:
There timid hopeless passion lies,
And bids...

Read the full of Secret Love

To Henry

Think not, while fairer nymphs invite
Thy feet, dear youth, to Pleasure's bowers,
My faded form shall meet thy sight,
And cloud my Henry's smiling hours.

Thou art the world's delighted guest,
And all that pride desires is thine;
Then I'll not wound thy generous breast,
By numbering o'er the woes of mine.

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