Ada Cambridge

[Ada Cross] (21 November 1844 – 19 July 1926 / St Gemans, Norfolk)

Ada Cambridge Poems

1. Dead 3/2/2010
2. The Old Maid's Story 3/2/2010
3. The Silence In The Church 3/2/2010
4. The Kind Word 3/2/2010
5. The Easter Decorations 3/2/2010
6. Home-Sick 3/2/2010
7. The Last Battle Of The Cid 3/2/2010
8. The Midnight Mass 3/2/2010
9. The Future Verdict 3/2/2010
10. The Season 3/2/2010
11. This Enlightened Age 3/2/2010
12. Tired 3/2/2010
13. The Coo Of The Cushat 3/2/2010
14. Unstrung 3/2/2010
15. London 3/3/2010
16. Grey 3/2/2010
17. Wasted 3/2/2010
18. Good Night 3/3/2010
19. Cui Bono 3/3/2010
20. In Memoriam 3/2/2010
21. Fashion 3/2/2010
22. The Vain Question 3/2/2010
23. Sic Vos Non Vobis 3/2/2010
24. The Winged Mariners 3/2/2010
25. Evensong 3/2/2010
26. The Shadow 3/3/2010
27. Midnight 3/3/2010
28. The Resting-Place 3/2/2010
29. Responsibility 3/3/2010
30. Ordained 3/3/2010
31. The Hand In The Dark 3/2/2010
32. Empty 3/2/2010
33. Lord Nevil's Advice 3/2/2010
34. The Legend Of Lady Gertrude 3/2/2010
35. Practising The Anthem 3/2/2010
36. The Night 3/2/2010
37. The Hands That Hang Down 3/2/2010
38. Reaction 3/3/2010
39. Nightfall In The Fens 3/3/2010
40. Seed-Time And Harvest 3/2/2010

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Best Poem of Ada Cambridge

A Dream Of Venice

NUMB, half asleep, and dazed with whirl of wheels,
And gasp of steam, and measured clank of chains,
I heard a blithe voice break a sudden pause,
Ringing familiarly through the lamp-lit night,
“Wife, here's your Venice!”
I was lifted down,
And gazed about in stupid wonderment,
Holding my little Katie by the hand—
My yellow-haired step-daughter. And again
Two strong arms led me to the water-brink,
And laid me on soft cushions in a boat,—
A queer boat, by a queerer boatman manned—
Swarthy-faced, ragged, with a scarlet cap—
Whose wild, weird ...

Read the full of A Dream Of Venice

The Virgin Martyr

Every wild she-bird has nest and mate in the warm April weather,
But a captive woman, made for love -- no mate, no nest has she.
In the spring of young desire, young men and maids are wed together,
And the happy mothers flaunt their bliss for all the world to see:
Nature's sacramental feast for these -- an empty board for me.

I, a young maid once, an old maid now, deposed, despised, forgotten --
I, like them have thrilled with passion and have dreamed of nuptial rest,
Of the trem

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