Amelia Opie

(12 November 1769 – 2 December 1853 / Norwich)

Amelia Opie Poems

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