A Farewell.

I shall come no more to the Cedar Hall,
    The fairies' palace beside the stream;
Where the yellow sun-rays at morning fall
    Through their tresses dark, with a mellow gleam.

I shall tread no more the thick dewy lawn,
    When the young moon hangs on the brow of night,
Nor see the morning, at early dawn,
    Shake the fading stars from her robes of light.

I shall fly no more on my fiery steed,
    O'er the springing sward, - through the twilight wood;
Nor reign my courser, and check my speed,
    By the lonely grange, and the haunted flood.

At fragrant noon, I shall lie no more
    'Neath the oak's broad shade, in the leafy dell:
The sun is set, - the day is o'er, -
    The summer is past; - farewell! - farewell!

Frances Anne Kemble

Frances Anne Kemble, also known as Fanny, was a notable British actress and writer born on November 27, 1809, and died on January 15, 1893. She was a prominent figure in the 19th century literary and theatrical circles. Kemble was known for her acting prowess and her detailed journals and memoirs, which provide valuable insights into the life and times of her era.

Frances Anne Kemble

Song.

Frances Anne Kemble, Simple Poetry

Sonnet.

Frances Anne Kemble, Simple Poetry

The Red Indian.

Frances Anne Kemble, Simple Poetry

The Prayer Of A Lonely Heart.

Frances Anne Kemble, Simple Poetry

English

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An Entreaty.

Once more, once more into the sunny fields
    Oh, let me stray!
And drink the joy that young existence yields
    In a bright, cloudless day.

Once more let me behold the summer sky,
    With its blue eyes,
And join the wild wind's voice of melody,
    As far and free it flies.

Once more, once more, oh let me stand and hear
    The gushing spring,
As its bright drops fall starlike, fast and clear,
    And in the sunshine sing.

Once more, oh let me list the soft sweet breeze
    At evening mourn:
Let me, oh let me say farewell to these,
    And to my task I gaily will return.

Oh, lovely earth! oh, blessed smiling sky!
    Oh, music of the wood, the wave, the wind!
I do but linger till my ear and eye
    Have traced ye on t...

Frances Anne Kemble

A Retrospect.

Life wanes, and the bright sunlight of our youth
    Sets o'er the mountain-tops, where once Hope stood.
Oh, Innocence! oh, Trustfulness! oh, Truth!
    Where are ye all, white-handed sisterhood,
Who with me on my way did walk along,
Singing sweet scraps of that immortal song
That's hymn'd in Heaven, but hath no echo here?
Are ye departing, fellows bright and clear,
    Of the young spirit, when it first alights
Upon this earth of darkness and dismay?
Farewell! fair children of th' eternal day,
    Blossoms of that far land where fall no blights,
Sweet kindred of my exiled soul, farewell!
Here I must wander, here ye may not dwell;
Back to your home beyond the founts of light
I see ye fly, and I am wrapt in night!

Frances Anne Kemble

To Miss ---

Time beckons on the hours: the expiring year
    Already feels old Winter's icy breath;
As with cold hands, he scatters on her bier
    The faded glories of her Autumn wreath.
As fleetly as the Summer's sunshine past,
    The Winter's snow must melt; and the young Spring,
Strewing the earth with flowers, will come at last,
    And in her train the hour of parting bring.
But, though I leave the harbour, where my heart
    Sometime had found a peaceful resting-place,
Where it lay calmly moored; though I depart,
    Yet, let not time my memory quite efface.
'Tis true, I leave no void, the happy home
    To which you welcomed me, will be as gay,
As bright, as cheerful, when I've turned to roam,
    Once more, upon life's weary onward way.
But oh! if ever by the wa...

Frances Anne Kemble

Written On Cramond Beach.

Farewell, old playmate! on thy sandy shore
My lingering feet will leave their print no more;
To thy loved side I never may return.
I pray thee, old companion, make due mourn
For the wild spirit who so oft has stood
Gazing in love and wonder on thy flood.
The form is now departing far away,
That half in anger oft, and half in play,
Thou hast pursued with thy white showers of foam.
Thy waters daily will besiege the home
I loved among the rocks; but there will be
No laughing cry, to hail thy victory,
Such as was wont to greet thee, when I fled,
With hurried footsteps, and averted head,
Like fallen monarch, from my venturous stand,
Chased by thy billows far along the sand.
And when at eventide thy warm waves drink
The amber clouds that in their bosom sink;

Frances Anne Kemble

To ----

When the glad sun looks smiling from the sky,
    Upon each shadowy glen and woody height,
And that you tread those well known paths where I
    Have stray'd with you, - do not forget me quite.

When the warm hearth throws its bright glow around,
    On many a smiling cheek, and glance of light,
And the gay laugh wakes with its joyous sound
    The soul of mirth, - do not forget me quite.

You will not miss me; for with you remain
    Hearts fond and warm, and spirits young and bright,
'Tis but one word - "farewell;" and all again
    Will seem the same, - yet don't forget me quite.

Frances Anne Kemble

A Farewell

Down the steep west unrolled,
    I watch the river of the sunset flow,
With all its crimson lights, and gleaming gold,
    Into the dusk below.

And even as I gaze,
    The soft lights fade,-the pageant gay is o'er,
And all is grey and dark, like those lost days,
    The days that are no more.

No more through whispering pines,
    I shall behold, in the else silent even,
The first faint star-watch set along the lines
    Of the white tents of heaven.

Before the earliest buds
    Have softly opened, heralding the May
With tender light illuming the gray woods,
    I shall be gone away.

Ah! wood-walks winding sweet
    Through all the valleys sloping to the west,
Where glad brooks wander with melodious feet,
    In musical u...

Kate Seymour Maclean