Sonnet

Your own fair youth, you care so little for it,
    Smiling towards Heaven, you would not stay the advances
    Of time and change upon your happiest fancies.
I keep your golden hour, and will restore it.

If ever, in time to come, you would explore it--
    Your old self whose thoughts went like last year's pansies,
    Look unto me; no mirror keeps its glances;
In my unfailing praises now I store it.

To keep all joys of yours from Time's estranging,
    I shall be then a treasury where your gay,
            Happy, and pensive past for ever is.

I shall be then a garden charmed from changing,
    In which your June has never passed away.
            Walk there awhile among my memories.

Alice Christiana Thompson Meynell

Alice Christiana Thompson Meynell was an English writer, editor, critic, and suffragist, now remembered mainly as a poet. She was born in London, and wrote her first poetry collection, "Preludes" (1875). In addition to her literary works, Meynell was a committed supporter of women's suffrage and worked as an editor for various publications. Her poetry often explored themes of spirituality, nature, and love.

Alice Christiana Thompson Meynell

To The Beloved

Alice Christiana Thompson Meynell, Simple Poetry

Parted

Alice Christiana Thompson Meynell, Simple Poetry

Song

Alice Christiana Thompson Meynell, Simple Poetry

Via, Et Veritas, Et Vita

Alice Christiana Thompson Meynell, Simple Poetry

English

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Sonnet

Your own fair youth, you care so little for it,
    Smiling towards Heaven, you would not stay the advances
    Of time and change upon your happiest fancies.
I keep your golden hour, and will restore it.

If ever, in time to come, you would explore it-
    Your old self whose thoughts went like last year's pansies,
    Look unto me; no mirror keeps its glances;
In my unfailing praises now I store it.

To keep all joys of yours from Time's estranging,
    I shall be then a treasury where your gay,
    Happy, and pensive past for ever is.

I shall be then a garden charmed from changing,
    In which your June has never passed away.
    Walk there awhile among my memories.

Alice Meynell

Sonnet

A poet of one mood in all my lays,
    Ranging all life to sing one only love,
    Like a west wind across the world I move,
Sweeping my harp of floods mine own wild ways.

The countries change, but not the west-wind days
    Which are my songs.    My soft skies shine above,
    And on all seas the colours of a dove,
And on all fields a flash of silver greys.

I make the whole world answer to my art
    And sweet monotonous meanings.    In your ears
I change not ever, bearing, for my part,
    One thought that is the treasure of my years,
A small cloud full of rain upon my heart
    And in mine arms, clasped, like a child in tears.

Alice Christiana Thompson Meynell

Sonnet

A poet of one mood in all my lays,
    Ranging all life to sing one only love,
    Like a west wind across the world I move,
Sweeping my harp of floods mine own wild ways.

The countries change, but not the west-wind days
    Which are my songs. My soft skies shine above,
    And on all seas the colours of a dove,
And on all fields a flash of silver greys.

I make the whole world answer to my art
    And sweet monotonous meanings. In your ears
I change not ever, bearing, for my part,
    One thought that is the treasure of my years,
A small cloud full of rain upon my heart
    And in mine arms, clasped, like a child in tears.

Alice Meynell

Sonnet XXVI.

O partial MEMORY! Years, that fled too fast,
    From thee in more than pristine beauty rise,
    Forgotten all the transient tears and sighs
    Somewhat that dimm'd their brightness! Thou hast chas'd
Each hovering mist from the soft Suns, that grac'd
    Our fresh, gay morn of Youth; - the Heart's high prize,
    Friendship, - and all that charm'd us in the eyes
    Of yet unutter'd Love. - So pleasures past,
That in thy crystal prism thus glow sublime,
    Beam on the gloom'd and disappointed Mind
    When Youth and Health, in the chill'd grasp of Time,
Shudder and fade; - and cypress buds we find
    Ordain'd Life's blighted roses to supply,
    While but reflected shine the golden lights of Joy.

Anna Seward

Sonnet XLIII. To May, In The Year 1783.

My memory, long accustom'd to receive
    In deep-engraven lines, each varying trait
    Past Times and Seasons wore, can find no date
    Thro' many years, O! MAY, when thou hadst leave,
As now, of the great SUN, serene to weave
    Thy fragrant chaplets; in poetic state
    To call the jocund Hours on thee to wait,
    Bringing each day, at morn, at noon, at eve,
His mild illuminations. - Nymph, no more
    Is thine to mourn beneath the scanty shade
    Of half-blown foliage, shivering to deplore
Thy garlands immature, thy rites unpaid;
    Meads dropt with [1]gold again to thee belong,
    Soft gales, luxuriant bowers, and wood-land song.

1: Kingcups.

Anna Seward

Sonnet--My Heart Shall Be Thy Garden

My heart shall be thy garden.    Come, my own,
    Into thy garden; thine be happy hours
    Among my fairest thoughts, my tallest flowers,
From root to crowning petal, thine alone.

Thine is the place from where the seeds are sown
    Up to the sky enclosed, with all its showers.
    But ah, the birds, the birds!    Who shall build bowers
To keep these thine?    O friend, the birds have flown.

For as these come and go, and quit our pine
    To follow the sweet season, or, new-comers,
            Sing one song only from our alder-trees.

My heart has thoughts, which, though thine eyes hold mine,
    Flit to the silent world and other summers,
            With wings that dip beyond the silver seas.

Alice Christiana Thompson Meynell