Edward Henry Bickersteth (1825-1906 / England)
Cleopatra to Marc Anthony
I have gazed o'er the hills in the day's soft decline,
And my thoughts they have wandered to that fairer clime,
Where thou wast reposing mid sunshine and song,—
Oh! say, did thy smile or thy sigh e'er belong
One moment to me?
Ah! no.—Other forms—how much brighter—more fair
Than mine own—were around thee thy presence to share;
While Joy, on her pinions of azure and gold,
Shed her light o'er the lovely—the thoughtless—the bold,
Unmindful of me.
And my proud heart that stooped not to flatter the crowd,
In its solitude pined—yet its grief was not loud;
For ah! as the blossom that turns to the sun
Shuts its beauty as soon as his race he has run,—
Its fond worship o'er;
So my heart had its twilight—its sun—and its showers,—
But lonely it drooped in sad memory's bowers,
For its hope and its sunlight had faded away;—
Thy star again shone, and its bright quivering ray
Brought peace unto me.
Comments about this poem (Cleopatra to Marc Anthony by Edward Henry Bickersteth )
World Day for Cultural Diversity for Dialogue and Development
celebrated on May 21st every year
Your Favorite Poets’ Favorite Books of Poetry
Daily Rituals of Famous Authors
Writers seem to be the most prone to unshakeable routines and elaborate superstitions.
Incredible Reading Rooms Around the World
Cozy, beautiful places to curl up with a good book...
Top 500 Poems
The Road Not Taken
Still I Rise
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
A Dream Within A Dream
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings