Amelia Opie

(12 November 1769 – 2 December 1853 / Norwich)

Amelia Opie Poems

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

Secret Love

Not one kind look....one 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

Ode To Borrowdale

IN CUMBERLAND.

Hail , Derwent's beauteous pride!
Whose charms rough rocks in threatening grandeur guard,
Whose entrance seems to mortals barred,
But to the Genius of the storm thrown wide.

He on thy rock's dread height,
Reclined beneath his canopy of clouds,

[Hata Bildir]