Armstrong Browning Library | 19th Century Women Poets |
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(98) Things not of such as die ! But I have been Too much alone ; a heart whereon to lean, With all these deep affections, that o'erflow My aching soul, and find no shore below ; An eye to be m y star, a voice to bring Hope o'er m y path, l;ke sounds that breathe of spring, These are denied me—dreamt of still in vain,— Therefore m y brief aspirings from the chain, Are ever but some wild and fitful song, Rising triumphantly, to die ere long In dirge-like echoes. IV. Yet the world will see Little of this, my parting work, in thee, Thou shalt have fame ! Oh, mockery ! give the reed From storms a shelter,—give the drooping vine Something round which its tendrils may entwine,— Give the parch'd flower a rain drop, and the meed Of love's kind words to woman! Worthless fame! That in his bosom wins not for m y name Th' abiding-place it ask'd ! Yet how m y heart, In its own fairy world of song and art, Once beat for praise !—Are those high longings o'er! That which I have been can I be no more ?— Never, oh! never more ; though still thy sky Be blue as then, m y glorious Italy!
Title | The Poetical Works of Mrs. Felicia Hemans |
Creator | Felicia Hemans |
Date | 1854 |
Physical Description | 394 p., ill., port. 20 cm. |
Publisher | Boston: Phillips, Sampson, and Company, New York: James C. Derby, 1854 |
Resource Type | Text |
Call Number | PR4780.A1 1854c |
Identifier | pr4780_a1_1854c |
Language | English |
Custodian | Baylor University - Armstrong Browning Library |
Rights | http://www.baylor.edu/lib/digitization/digitalrights |
Digital Collection | 19th Century Women Poets Collection |
Note | Inscription on front endpaper: "Sarah C [Pur?] a present/from/her Father J B [Pur?]/Travis /55" and on prelim. leaf: "Sarah C. [Pur?]/Independence/Texas." |
Format | Books |
Title | Page 106 |
Resource Type | Text |
Rights | http://www.baylor.edu/lib/digitization/digitalrights |
Digital Collection | 19th Century Women Poets Collection |
Full Text | (98) Things not of such as die ! But I have been Too much alone ; a heart whereon to lean, With all these deep affections, that o'erflow My aching soul, and find no shore below ; An eye to be m y star, a voice to bring Hope o'er m y path, l;ke sounds that breathe of spring, These are denied me—dreamt of still in vain,— Therefore m y brief aspirings from the chain, Are ever but some wild and fitful song, Rising triumphantly, to die ere long In dirge-like echoes. IV. Yet the world will see Little of this, my parting work, in thee, Thou shalt have fame ! Oh, mockery ! give the reed From storms a shelter,—give the drooping vine Something round which its tendrils may entwine,— Give the parch'd flower a rain drop, and the meed Of love's kind words to woman! Worthless fame! That in his bosom wins not for m y name Th' abiding-place it ask'd ! Yet how m y heart, In its own fairy world of song and art, Once beat for praise !—Are those high longings o'er! That which I have been can I be no more ?— Never, oh! never more ; though still thy sky Be blue as then, m y glorious Italy! |
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