De Profundis.

Turn thine eyes from me, Angel of Heaven--
    Read not my soul, Angel of Heaven--
Sorrow is steeping my pale cheeks with weeping,
    Evermore keeping her wand on my heart,
    On my cold stony heart, while the tear-fountains start
To purge it from leaven too sinful for Heaven--
    Read not my soul, yet, Angel of Heaven!

Why hast thou ta'en her, Angel of Heaven?
    Ta'en her so soon, Angel of Heaven?
Yearning to gain her, hast thou thus slain her
    Ere sin could stain her--borne her away,
    Borne her far, far away, into eternal day,
    Left me alone to stay--left me to weep and pray?
Why hast thou ta'en her, Angel of Heaven?
    Ta'en her so soon, Angel of Heaven?

Shines the place brighter, Angel of Heaven?
    Brighter for her, Angel of Heaven?
Comes there not streaming into my dreaming,
    At morning's beaming, rays more divine,
    Rays from her soul divine, rays giving strength to mine?
    Shines she not radiantly over the skies,
    Over the morning skies, ere the Earth-vapours rise,
'Twixt me and Paradise, Angel of Heaven?
    _Her_ blessed Paradise, Angel of Heaven?

Turn thine eyes to me, Angel of Heaven--
    Search through and through me, Angel of Heaven;
Read my soul's yearning, wild, endlessly burning,
    Tumultuously spurning Fate's bitter decree,
    Fate's tyrannic decree, that tore her from me,
    Bore her from me to Eternity.
Merciless Reaper, no more shalt thou keep her
    From fond eyes that weep her for ever and ever,
    Vain thine endeavour our spirits to sever,
Take my soul with thee, Angel of Heaven,
    Bear me unto her, Angel of Heaven.

Walter R. Cassels

Walter R. Cassels was a British poet and author primarily known for his collection of religious poetry, "Supernatural Religion" published in the late 19th century. Though the work was initially published anonymously, it sparked considerable controversy and debate over its skeptical views on Christianity and the supernatural. Cassels' style is marked by thought-provoking themes and meticulous craftsmanship, placing him among notable literary figures of his time.

Walter R. Cassels

Memnon.

Walter R. Cassels, Simple Poetry

Orion.

Walter R. Cassels, Simple Poetry

The Morning Star.

Walter R. Cassels, 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.

Gone.

The night is dark, and evermore
    The thick drops patter on the pane
    The wind is weary of the rain,
And round the thatches moaneth sore;
    Dark is the night, and cold the air;
    And all the trees stand stark and bare,
With leaves spread dank and sere below,
    Slow rotting on the plashy clay,
    In the God's-acre far away,
Where she, O God! lies cold below--
        Cold, cold below!

And many a bitter day and night
    Have pour'd their storms upon her breast,
    And chill'd her in her long, long rest,
With foul corruption's icy blight;
    Earth's dews are freezing round the heart,
    Where love alone so late had part;
And evermore the frost and snow
    Are burrowing downward through the clay,
    In the God's-acre far away...

Walter R. Cassels

Homesick In Heaven

THE DIVINE VOICE
Go seek thine earth-born sisters, - thus the Voice
That all obey, - the sad and silent three;
These only, while the hosts of Heaven rejoice,
Smile never; ask them what their sorrows be;

And when the secret of their griefs they tell,
Look on them with thy mild, half-human eyes;
Say what thou wast on earth; thou knowest well;
So shall they cease from unavailing sighs.


THE ANGEL
Why thus, apart, - the swift-winged herald spake, -
Sit ye with silent lips and unstrung lyres
While the trisagion's blending chords awake
In shouts of joy from all the heavenly choirs?

FIRST SPIRIT
Chide not thy sisters, - thus the answer came; -
Children of earth, our half-weaned nature clings
To earth's fond memories, and her whispered name...

Oliver Wendell Holmes

Orpheus.

About the land I wander, all forlorn,
About the land, with sorrow-quenchèd eyes;
Seeking my love among the silent woods;
Seeking her by the fountains and the streams;
Calling her name unto lone mountain tops;
Sending it flying on the clouds to heaven.
I drop my tears amid the dews at morn;
I trouble all the night with prayers and sighs,
That, like a veil thick set with golden stars,
Hideth my woe, but cannot silence it;
Yet never more at morning, noon, or night,
Cometh there answer back, Eurydice,
Thy voice speaks never more, Eurydice;
O far, death-stricken, lost Eurydice!

Hear'st thou my weary cries, Eurydice?
Hearing, but answering not from out the past,
Wrapp'd in thy robe of everlasting light,
Round which the accents flutter faintingly,
Lik...

Walter R. Cassels

The Parting Soul And Her Guardian Angel.

(Written during sickness).

Soul -
    Oh! say must I leave this world of light
    With its sparkling streams and sunshine bright,
    Its budding flowers, its glorious sky?
    Vain 'tis to ask me - I cannot die!

Angel -
    But, sister, list! in the realms above,
    That happy home of eternal love,
    Are flowers more fair, and skies more clear
    Than those thou dost cling to so fondly here.

Soul -
    Ah! yes, but to reach that home of light
    I must pass through the fearful vale of night;
    And my soul with alarm doth shuddering cry -
    O angel, I tell thee, I dare not die!

Angel -
    Ah! mortal beloved, in that path untried
    Will I be, as ever, still at thy side,
    T...

Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon

Canzone XIV.

Chiare, fresche e dolci acque.

TO THE FOUNTAIN OF VAUOLUSE--CONTEMPLATIONS OF DEATH.


    Ye limpid brooks, by whose clear streams
My goddess laid her tender limbs!
Ye gentle boughs, whose friendly shade
Gave shelter to the lovely maid!
Ye herbs and flowers, so sweetly press'd
By her soft rising snowy breast!
Ye Zephyrs mild, that breathed around
The place where Love my heart did wound!
Now at my summons all appear,
And to my dying words give ear.

If then my destiny requires,
And Heaven with my fate conspires,
That Love these eyes should weeping close,
Here let me find a soft repose.
So Death will less my soul affright,
And, free from dread, my weary spright
Naked alone will dare t' essay
The still unknown, though b...

Francesco Petrarca

The Delectable Mountains.

    How light and pleasant is the way
Across this quiet valley, whose soft mead
Springs lightly as the air that angels tread,
    Beneath our footsteps weariless all day!
This crystal river flowing by our side,
One stream of sunshine, still has seem'd a guide
    From Heaven in pure angelical array.

    These purple mountains now are nigh,
That all the valley through have fill'd our eyes
With day-dreams of the distant Paradise,
    Their sun-surrounded summits can descry--
We mount them now upon Hope's bounding wing,
That makes each short swift footstep long to spring
    Suddenly upward to the shadeless sky.

    The air methinks is lighter here--
And the breast heaves with full untrammell'd ease,
Drinking the life-draught of the fragrant breeze,

Walter R. Cassels