Frances Anne Kemble

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

Sonnet. - Poem by Frances Anne Kemble

Thou art to me like one, who in a dream
Of pleasant fancies is borne sleeping by
The place where a great treasure hid doth lie:
Anon thou wilt awake, and thou'lt exclaim—
'How was it that along this path I came,
And left so great a treasure on my way?
I will make haste to seek it:' shalt thou say—
And then, thou shalt re-measure thoughtfully
The steps thou didst fly over in thy sleep;
But vainly shalt thou wander there, and weep,
For while thou didst pass dreaming, careless, on,
Another followed, and with digging deep,
And diligent seeking, did the harvest reap
That was held to thy hand—and thou wouldst none.

Comments about Sonnet. by Frances Anne Kemble

There is no comment submitted by members..

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Poem Submitted: Monday, September 6, 2010

Famous Poems

  1. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  5. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  6. Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
    Mary Elizabeth Frye
  9. I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You
    Pablo Neruda
  10. Television
    Roald Dahl
[Report Error]