Broken

I.

                        Broken!
    It's only a ring - a plain, old ring,
        Worn down to a thread almost -
    Fling it away - the useless thing!
        What value now can it boast? -
                Fling it away!
            Yet stay! - oh stay
                Ere you cast it away!
        There's a tale of the vanished years
            That ever will cling,
                To that broken ring,
        That hallows and endears -
                        Oh stay!
In vain! - in vain! - What matters it now
    That tenderest memories cling
To that thread of gold so wasted and old -
    Who cares for a broken ring? -
                Fling it away!


II.

                        Broken!
    It's only a vase - an old, stone vase -
        Ancient and out of style -
    That has stood for years in the chimney place,
        Provoking many a smile -
                Throw it away!
            Yet stay! - that vase
                Held honored place
        In the sight of prince and peer
            And the flowers it held
                Were gathered of old
        By the lovely and the dear! -
                        Oh stay!
In vain! - In vain! - What matters it now
How honored was once its place!
It is broken, and old, and the hearts are cold
That cherished the old stone vase -
                Throw it away!


III.

                        Broken!
    It's only a promise - as light as air -
        Though earnestly, solemnly given,
    Made to be broken - yet who should care? -
        Do you think it was heard in Heaven? -
                Break it to day!
            Yet stay! - that breath
                Is a blast of death
        To an innocent human heart!
            Unsay the word,
                For God has heard!
        And He taketh the wronged one's part - -
                Break it not to-day!
In vain! - in vain! - What matters it now?
It was only a breath - no more!
A faithless promise - a traitor's vow -
Such things have happened before -
                It's broken to-day!


IV.

                        Broken!
    It's only a heart - a human heart -
        That has throbbed for years and years,
    With the burning pain and the cruel smart
        Whose agony knows no tears -
                Cast it away'
            Yet stay! - oh stay!
                A father, grey
        And sorrowful, prayed for her long
            And a mother's love
                Bore to God above
        The tale of her poor childs wrong! -
                Cast it not away!
In vain! - 'Tis a story old and worn -
This story of falsehood's art -
Of the harsh world's withering blight and scorn, -
Who cares for the broken heart
                That's been cast away?

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)

An Evening Hymn

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

Canada

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

After Fifty Years

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

Frost-Flowers.

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

English

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Stay, Mother, Stay!

    "Stay, mother, stay, for the storm is abroad,
And the tempest is very wild;
It's a fearful night with no ray of light,
Oh stay with your little child!"

    "Hush darling!" the mother, with white lips said -
"Lie still till I come again,
God's angels blest will watch o'er thy rest
While I am abroad in the rain!
    Thy father, child? - oh, I quake with fear
When I think where he may be,
And I dare not stay till the dawn of day -
I must hasten forth to see!"

    Then the young child buried her tangled curls
In the ragged counterpane,
While the half-clad mother went forth alone
In the blinding wind and rain.

    Down many a narrow, slippery lane,
Down many a long, dark street,
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Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

Loved And Lost, or The Sky-Lark And The Violet

LOVED AND LOST, - OR - THE SKY-LARK AND THE VIOLET.


VIOLET'S SONG

I.

        Come down from thy dazzling sphere,
            Bird of the gushing song!
Come down where the young leaves whisper low,
While the breeze steals in with a murmurous flow,
And the tender branches wave to and fro
            In the soft air all day long!

        I have watched thy daring wing
            Cleaving the sun-bright air,
Where the snowy cloud is asleep in light,
Or dreamily floating in robes of white,
While thy soul gushed forth in its song's free might,
            Till my spirit is dim with care.

        For oh, I have loved thee well,
            Thou of the soaring wing! -
And I fear lest the angels that sit on high,
In the ca...

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

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 ...

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

The Broken Heart

News o' grief had overteaken
Dark-eyed Fanny, now vorseaken;
There she zot, wi' breast a-heaven,
While vrom zide to zide, wi' grieven,
Vell her head, wi' tears a-creepen
Down her cheaks, in bitter weepen.
There wer still the ribbon-bow
She tied avore her hour ov woe,
An' there wer still the hans that tied it
Hangen white,
Or wringen tight,
In ceare that drowned all ceare bezide it.

When a man, wi' heartless slighten,
Mid become a maiden's blighten,
He mid cearelessly vorseake her,
But must answer to her Meaker;
He mid slight, wi' selfish blindness,
All her deeds o' loven-kindness,
God wull waigh 'em wi' the slighten
That mid be her love's requiten;
He do look on each deceiver,
He do know
What weight o' woe
Do break the ...

William Barnes

The Earth Voice And Its Answer

        I plucked a fair flower that grew
In the shadow of summer's green trees -
                A rose petalled flower,
                Of all in the bower,
        Best beloved of the bee and the breeze
I plucked it, and kissed it, and called it my own -
        This beautiful, beautiful flower
That alone in the cool, tender shadow had grown,
        Fairest and first in the bower

        Then a murmur I heard at my feet -
        A pensive and sorrowful sound,
                And I stooped me to hear,
                While tear after tear
        Rained down from my eyes to the ground,
                As I, listening, heard
                This sorrowful word,
        So breathing of anguish profound: -

        "I have gathered the fairest...

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)