To Isabel.

(ISABELLA STEWART)


Since ere I left my native isle,
My childhood's home, life's happy smile
And crossed the separating seas,
Nothing my lonely heart could please
Till now--and oh, I cannot tell
How I admire thee, Isabel!

There are, in my dear island green,
Most lovely faces to be seen,
Beautiful eyes, with kindly glee,
Beamed there in laughing love on me
Now I'm alone from day to day,
They're all three thousand miles away.

A stranger's face each face I see,
And every eye is cold to me,
No friendly voice, no kind caress,
No spell to break the loneliness,
Until I fell beneath the spell
Of thy rare beauty, Isabel

I watch thee from my window pane
In hopes a stolen glimpse to gain
I know that purely lovely face,
I know that form of stately grace,
The sweet blue eye, the silken hair
Whose tresses shade thy forehead fair

Thy beauty, like God's summer flowers
Blesses and cheers this world of ours.
Thy smile, the sunshine clear and true
Of a bright spirit looking through
But words of mine can never tell
All of thy praise fair Isabel

Fair Isabel fair Isabel
I learned to know thy beauty well
It rose upon my exiled sight
A very treasure of delight
My loneliness so comforting
That my caged heart began to sing

And if I sing thy beauty's fame
Thy loveliness is all to blame
I loved before I understood
That in thy veins flowed Erin's blood
And I could not help but tell
Of the fair maiden Isabel

On earth the fairest sweetest spot
I'll leave and shall regret it not
Since I have left my earthly home
What matter is it where I roam
Not to the hill I bid farewell
But to the gentle Isabel

Accept then from an Irish heart
This humble tribute ere we part
For thou to me art very dear
The lone star of my sojourn here
To thee I sadly bid farewell
God bless the maiden Isabel

V K    HILL 1846

Nora Pembroke

No biography available

Nora Pembroke

Divided

Nora Pembroke, Simple Poetry

To My Valentine.

Nora Pembroke, Simple Poetry

Majority.

Nora Pembroke, Simple Poetry

Lines To A Shamrock - A Song Of Exile

Nora Pembroke, 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.

Isabel.

(ISABELLA STEWART)


Heart of mine, by thy quick beating,
    Thou knowest Isabel is near,
And the gladness of the greeting
    Dims my eye with rapture's tear.
Heart of mine, each beat will tell
How I love young Isabel.

When I first beheld the maiden,
    So fair to see, so sweet to bless,
I, a stranger, sorrow laden,
    Arrested by her loveliness,
Then I thought some hand would set,
On that brow a coronet.

She had grace all hearts beguiling,
    She had the wealth of silken hair,
And sweet lips, half proud, half smiling,
    Neck of snow and bosom fair,
And each eye a sapphire gem
For a monarch's diadem

Oh, she was peerless in her beauty,
    Like the fair moon she walked alone,
And loving her was but a d...

Nora Pembroke

To Isabel.

I often thought to write to thee, what time
I almost fancied heaven-born, genius mine,
And fondly hoped my island harp to wake,
To some new strain sung for my country's sake.
'Twas a vain hope and yet its presence smiled
Upon my day dreams when I was a child,
And only faded when my heart grew cold,
For head and heart alike are getting old.
Had I been gifted, some bright lay would be,
With touching melody, poured forth for thee.
Now, what I think the best I wish for thee.

            *            *            *

May you never be a stranger;
    Ever living with your own,
With the same eyes beaming round you,
    That on your childhood shone.

Friendship knitting true hearts to you,
    From youth to kindly age;
And affection brightenin...

Nora Pembroke

Nora To David Herbison.

There's a place in the North where the bonnie broom grows,
Where winding through green meadows the silver Maine flows,
Every lark as it soars and sings that sweet spot knows;
                For the mate for whom it sings,
                Till the clear blue heaven rings,
Is brooding on its nest mid the daisies in the grass;
                And that psalmist sweet, the thrush,
                And the linnet in the bush,
Tell the children all their secrets in song as they pass.

Oh brightly shines the sun there where wee birdies sing,
A glamour's o'er the buds in the green lap of spring,
In happy, happy laughter children's voices ring!
                Like some fair enchanted ground,
                In memory it is found,
Where my childhood's golden hours of happine...

Nora Pembroke

Lines To A Shamrock - A Song Of Exile

A withered shamrock, yet to me 'tis fair
    As the sweet rose to other eyes might be,
Because its leaves spread in my native air,
    And the same land gave birth to it and me.

They were as plentiful as drops of dew
    In our green meadows sprinkled everywhere,
Heedless I wandered o'er them life was new,
    Now as a friend I greet thee shamrock fair

Because I dwelt with my own people then,
    Erin's bright eyes, and kindly hearts and true,
That from my cradle loved me, and again
    We'll never meet--spoken our last adieu

I am a stranger here, I have not seen
    One friendly face of all that I have known,
And my heart mourns for thee my island green,
    Because I am a stranger and alone

So thou art welcome as a friend to me,
...

Nora Pembroke

Isabel

        When first I stood before you,
                Isabel,
        I stood there to adore you,
                In your spell;
        For all that grace composes,
        And all that beauty knows is
        Your face above the roses,
                Isabel.

        You knew the charm of flowers,
                Isabel,
        Which, like incarnate hours,
                Rose and fell
        At your bosom, glowed and gloried,
        White and pale and pink and florid,
        And you touched them with your forehead,
                Isabel.

        Amid the jest and laughter,
                Isabel,
        I saw you, and thereafter,
                Ill or well,
        There was nothing else worth seeing,
        Wor...

John Charles McNeill

Erin, Mavourneen.

A Prize Poem.


I know Canada is fair to see, and pleasant; it is well
On the banks of its broad river 'neath the maple trees to dwell;
But the heart is very wilful, and in sorrow or in mirth,
Mine will turn with sore love-longing to the land that gave me birth;
And I wish that, oh but once again! my longing eyes might see
The green island that lies smiling on the bosom of the sea;
That is fed with heaven's dew and the fatness of the earth,
Fanned by wild Atlantic breezes that sweep over it in mirth.

Its green robe is starred with daisies; it is brilliant fresh and fair,
With a verdure that no other spot of earth affords to wear.
It has banks of pale primroses that like bits of moonlight glow;
There are hawthorn hedges blossomed out like drifts of perfumed snow,

Nora Pembroke