Be Still.

            O throbbing heart, be still!
                Canst thou not bear
The heavy dash of Memory's troubled tide,
    Long sternly pent, but broken forth again,
Sweeping all barriers ruthlessly aside,
    And leaving desolation in its train
                Where all was fair?

            Fair, did I say? - Oh yes! -
                I'd reared sweet flowers
Of steadfast hope, and quiet, patient trust,
    Above the wreck and ruin of my years; -
Had won a plant of beauty from the dust,
    Fanned it with breath of prayer, and wet with tears
                Of loneliest hours!

            O throbbing heart, be still!
                That cherished flower -
Faith in thy God - last grown, yet first in worth,
    Will spring anew ere long - it is not dead,
'Tis only beaten to the breast of earth!
    Let the storm rage - be calm - 'twill lift its head
                Some stiller hour!

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

Pamela S. Vining, also known by her pseudonym J. C. Yule, was an English poet whose work was recognized in the 19th century. Despite her significant contribution to English poetry, detailed information about her life, including her birth and death dates, remains elusive. She remains a noteworthy figure in the canon of English literature for her emotive and thought-provoking poetry.

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

Alone

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule), Simple Poetry

Gone Before

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule), Simple Poetry

Brethren, Go! A Valediction.

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule), Simple Poetry

The Silent Messenger

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule), Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

Drowned

[Footnote: In the Grand River, at Brantford, July 30th, 1875, Miss Jessie Hamilton, adopted daughter of C.H. Waterous, Esq., Brantford, aged 14 years and 3 months, and Miss Ella E. Murton, only daughter of John W. Murton, Esq., Hamilton, aged 14 years.]


    The morning dawned without a cloud,
But evening came with pall and shroud, -
With muffled step, and bated breath,
And mournful whisperings of - death!

            *            *            *

    Young lips, that in the morning sung
The summer's opening flowers among,
Were hushed and cold; - young, laughing eyes,
That met the dawn with sweet surprise,
Were darkly sealed; - young feet, that pressed
The dewy turf with glad unrest,
Were cold and stirless, never more
To tread the paths they trod ...

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

Palmer. Three Years Old.

A light departed from the hearth of home,
    Leaving a shadow where its radiance shone, -
A flower just bursting into life and bloom,
    Lopped from its stem, the bower left sad and lone, -
A golden link dropped from love's precious chain, -
    Gem from affection's sacred casket riven, -
Of music's richest tones a missing strain, -
    A bird-note hushed in the blue summer heaven!

That light is gathered to its Source again,
    Though long its radiance will be missed on earth,
That flower, transplanted to a sunnier plain,
    Bloometh immortal where no blight has birth;
That missing link gleams in Love's chain above, -
    That lost gem sparkles on the Saviour's breast, -
That music-uttrance, tuned to holier love,
    Swells richly 'mid the anthems of the ...

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

I Will Not Despair.

I will not despair while thou rulest the storm,
    Though the red lightning stream o'er the cloud's sable-breast,
For I catch through the darkness bright gleams of thy form,
    And I know 'tis thy voice lulls the tempest to rest -
                The wild tempest to rest:
Nor yet, though the shadows of deepening night,
    Hang over my path like the pall of despair;
For one star through the gloom sends its hallowed light,
    And I know 'tis thy love smiling tenderly there,
                - Ah! tenderly there.

I will not despair, though the fountain that burst
    For me in life's desert be wasted and dry;
For thy love was the fountain that cheered me at first,
    And again to its life-giving waters I fly -
                O Holiest, fly!
No; I will not d...

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

Under The Rod

"Be Still, and know that I am God!"


Be silent, Soul! - though dark thy path and dreary,
    And wild with storm, yet what is that to thee?
Though thou art faint, and desolate, and weary,
    Thy God hath willed thus, - so let it be!
Murmurs the mountain oak when storms assail it,
    And warring tempests wildly shake its form?
Firmer within the earth its root it striketh,
    And gathers strength and vigor from the storm.

Be silent, Soul! - the hand of God is on thee!
    And, as a skillful gard'ner, from the vine
Doth lop away each worthless branch and barren,
    So He would lop each fruitless bough of thine.
Ah! thou art earth-bound, prone, and lowly creeping,
    clinging to things too frail to be thy stay;
Jesus, with watchful care His vineya...

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

Heart-Pictures

Two pictures, strangely beautiful, I hold
In Mem'ry's chambers, stored with loving care
Among the precious things I prized of old,
And hid away with tender tear and prayer
The first, an aged woman's placid face
Full of the saintly calm of well spent years,
Yet bearing in its pensive lines the trace
Of weariness, and care, and many tears.

We sat together in our Sabbath-place,
Through the hushed hours of many a holy day,
And sweet it was to watch the gentle grace
Of that bowed form with those who knelt to pray,
And lifted face, when swelled the sacred psalm,
And the rich promise of God's word was shed
Upon her waiting heart like heavenly balm,
And all our souls with angels' meat were fed.

There came a day when missing was that face, -
The form s...

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

Lines On The Death Of A Young Mother

    A voice missed by the dear home-hearth -
A voice of music and gentle mirth -
A voice whose lingering sweetness long
Will float through many a Sabbath song,
And many a hallowed, evening hymn,
Tenderly breathed in the twilight dim!
- But that missing voice, with a richer tone,
Is heard in the anthems before the throne;
And another voice and another lyre,
Are added now to the angel-choir!

    There's a missing face when the board is spread -
There's a vacant seat at the table's head, -
A watchful eye and a helpful hand
That will come no more to that broken band.
- But she sits to-day at the board above,
In the tender light of a holier love;
And the kindling eye and the beaming face
At the feast on high hold a nobler place!

    A form is ...

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)