Frances Anne Kemble

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

To The Dead - Poem by Frances Anne Kemble

On the lone waters' shore
Wander I yet;
Brooding those moments o'er
I should forget.
Till the broad foaming surge
Warns me to fly,
While despair's whispers urge
To stay, and die.
When the night's solemn watch
Falls on the seas,
'Tis thy voice that I catch
In the low breeze;
When the moon sheds her light
On things below,
Beams not her ray so bright,
Like thy young brow?
Spirit immortal! say,
When wilt thou come,
To marshal me the way
To my long home?

Comments about To The Dead 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

[Report Error]