Frances Anne Kemble

(27 November 1809 - 15 January 1893 / London, England)

Lines Written At Night - Poem by Frances Anne Kemble

Oh, thou surpassing beauty! that dost live
Shrined in yon silent stream of glorious light!
Spirit of harmony! that through the vast
And cloud-embroidered canopy, art spreading
Thy wings, that o’er our shadowy earth hang brooding;
Like a pale silver cloud between the moon
And the world’s darker orb —beautiful, hail!
Hail to thee! from her midnight throne of ether,
Night looks upon the slumbering universe.
No ruffling breeze stirs the wood’s silver crest,
No rocking breath shakes the dew-spangled flower,
No rippling wind roughens the sleepy wave,
No slightest sound floats on the solemn air;
All, all are silent, all are dreaming, all,
Save yon eternal eyes, that now shine forth
Twinkling the slumberer’s destinies. The moon
Sails on the horizon’s verge, a moving glory.
Pure and unrivalled; for no paler orb
Approaches, to invade the sea of light
That spreads around her; save yon piercing star,
That glitters on her robe of fleecy clouds,
Like a bright gem, fall’n from her radiant brow.

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Poem Submitted: Monday, September 6, 2010

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