Frances Anne Kemble Poems

All the night long you come to me in dreams,
My lady dear! Ah, wherefore do you so?
Surely it is because you do not know
...

Lady, sweet lady, I behold thee yet,
With thy pale brow, brown eyes, and solemn air,
And billowy tresses of thy golden hair,
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A double worship hath the spring, my dear,
Triumph, and joy, and sweetness more than wont,
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Are they indeed the bitterest tears we shed
Those we let fall over the silent dead?
Can our thoughts image forth no darker doom,
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Raise it to Heaven, when thine eye fills with tears,
For only in a watery sky appears
The bow of light; and from th' invisible skies
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Art thou already weary of the way?
Thou who hast yet but half the way gone o'er;
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Away, away! bear me away, away,
Into the boundless void, thou mighty wind!
That rushest on thy midnight way,
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You gave your love a posy and she set it on a stand,
Where it freshly bloom'd and sweetly did smell:
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Roll not a drum—send not a clarion note
Of haughty triumph to the silent sky!
Hush'd be the shout of joy in ev'ry throat,
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I saw him on his throne, far in the north,
Him ye call Winter, picturing him ever
An aged man, whose frame, with palsied shiver,
...