To Mrs. Irving,

I dedicate these verses to one whom I hold dear,
One who in the dark days drew in Christian kindness near
May He who led me all my life do so and more to me
If ever I forget the debt of love I owe to thee.

Nora Pembroke

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Nora Pembroke

Forsaken.

Nora Pembroke, Simple Poetry

Alas, My Brother!

Nora Pembroke, Simple Poetry

A Welcome - The Campbells Are Coming

Nora Pembroke, Simple Poetry

To Mary.

Nora Pembroke, Simple Poetry

English

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To My Valentine.

Adieu! Adieu! may angels guard thee,
    Hovering near thee night and day,
For all thy good deeds God reward thee,
    The rest forgive and blot away.

May no gift nor grace be missing,
    May He all on thee confer,
And add a heartfelt prayer and blessing
    From the distant wanderer.

O'er the trackless, foaming ocean,
    In weal or woe, ever shall be
Mingled in my heart's devotion
    Many a prayer for thine and thee.

What tho' across thy memory never
    Shall flit my once familiar name,
Hallowed by distance, thine for ever,
    Memory shall conjure up again.

All thy follies ever hidden,
    All thy virtues raised above,
Thy name, so long, so much forbidden,
    Strangers shall learn from me to love.

Adieu!...

Nora Pembroke

To Frances

Dear love, life has dewy mornings,
    And the shadeless blaze of noon,
Flowers, that we stop to gather,
    That fade from our hands so soon

Dear love, there are meetings, partings,
    We have sunshine, we have shade,
There's no continuing city
    That our human hands have made

We go onward, joy and sorrow
    Checkers all the path we tread,
But our Father loves His children
    And with loving care they're led.

Dear love, His great wisdom chooseth
    The path that we both have trod,
And through storm, and calm, and sunshine,
    We rest in the hand of God

Nora Pembroke

To J W

Dear Jane you say you will gather flowers
To win if you may a verse from me
Can you bring to me those brillant hours
When life was gladdened by poesy?

Bring me the rose with pearls on her breast,
Dropped down as tears from early skies,
Pale lilies gather among the rest
And little daisies, with starry eyes

The heart's-ease bring for many a day
In vain for that flow'ret fair I sought
Turn not your gathering hand away
From the wee blue flower, forget me not

Unless inspiration on them rest
In vain you tempt me to rise and sing
The passage bird that sang in my breast
Has fled away with my life's young spring

My harp on a lonely grave is laid,
Untuned, unstrung, it will lie there long,
If you bring flowers alone dear maid
Witho...

Nora Pembroke

To Mary.

It is not very long since first we met,
    Thy path and mine lay very far apart;
We are not of one nation, dear one, yet
    Thou hast awakened love within my heart.

It is a love that sorrow never tried,
    And yet, like tested love, it is as true
As love that stood in dark hours by your side,
    If hours were ever dark or sad to you.

Not for your beauty, though I think you fair,
    Not for the kind heart or the tender word;
But for the kindredship,--because you were
    One who both knew and loved my gracious Lord.

One who had often met with Him alone;
    One over whom His garment had been laid;
Clothed on with beauty that was not your own,
    Bought with a price no other could have paid,

Divided by the ridge of time are we,

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

Good-Bye.

(To Miss E E.)


I cannot write, my tears are flowing fast,
    Yet weeping is unnatural to me;
Oh! that this hour of bitterness was past--
    The parting hour with all I love and thee

If I had never met or loved thee so,
    To part would not have caused me this sharp pain;
Parting so oft occurring here below,
    And they who part so seldom meet again.

Yet over land or sea, where'er I go,
    My home, my friends, shall flit before my eyes--
And oft I anxiously shall wish to know,
    If in thy bosom thoughts of me arise.

Oh, I will think of bygone days of glee,
    Though on each point of bitter sorrow driven;
I will not bid thee to remember me,
    But oh! see to it that we meet in Heaven.

1844.

Nora Pembroke