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

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

Impromptu.

Frances Anne Kemble, Simple Poetry

Sonnet.

Frances Anne Kemble, Simple Poetry

Sonnet.

Frances Anne Kemble, Simple Poetry

Song.

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

Written After Spending A Day At West Point.

Were they but dreams?    Upon the darkening world
Evening comes down, the wings of fire are furled,
On which the day soared to the sunny west:
The moon sits calmly, like a soul at rest,
Looking upon the never-resting earth;
All things in heaven wait on the solemn birth
Of night, but where has fled the happy dream
That at this hour, last night, our life did seem?
Where are the mountains with their tangled hair,
The leafy hollow, and the rocky stair?
Where are the shadows of the solemn hills,
And the fresh music of the summer rills?
Where are the wood-paths, winding, long and steep,
And the great, glorious river, broad and deep,
And the thick copses, where soft breezes meet,
And the wild torrent's snowy, leaping feet,
The rustling, rocking boughs, the running st...

Frances Anne Kemble

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

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

Song.

When you mournfully rivet your tear-laden eyes,
    That have seen the last sunset of hope pass away,
On some bright orb that seems, through the still sapphire skies,
    In beauty and splendour to roll on its way:

Oh, remember this earth, if beheld from afar,
    Appears wrapt in a halo as soft, and as bright,
As the pure silver radiance enshrining yon star,
    Where your spirit is eagerly soaring to-night.

And at this very midnight, perhaps some poor heart,
    That is aching, or breaking, in that distant sphere;
Gazes down on this dark world, and longs to depart
    From its own dismal home, to a happier one here.

Frances Anne Kemble

Lines, In Answer To A Question.

I'll tell thee why this weary world meseemeth
But as the visions light of one who dreameth,
Which pass like clouds, leaving no trace behind;
Why this strange life, so full of sin and folly,
In me awakeneth no melancholy,
Nor leaveth shade, or sadness, on my mind.
'Tis not that with an undiscerning eye
I see the pageant wild go dancing by,
Mistaking that which falsest is, for true;
'Tis not that pleasure hath entwined me,
'Tis not that sorrow hath enshrined me;
I bear no badge of roses or of rue,
But in the inmost chambers of my soul
There is another world, a blessed home,
O'er which no living power holdeth control,
Anigh to which ill things do never come.
There shineth the glad sunlight of clear thought,
With hope, and faith, holding communion high,
...

Frances Anne Kemble