Braving the tempests of the night
Have I ‘scaped the flickering flame.
Like the scathed pine, which a monument stands
Of faded grandeur, which the brands
Of the tempest-shaken air
Have riven on the desolate heath;
Yet it stands majestic even in death,
And rears its wild form there.
Similar Posts
And who feels discord now or sorrow?
These are the slaves of dim to-morrow,Darkening Life’s labyrinthine way.
Thy dewy looks sink in my breast;
Thou hast disturbed the only restThat was the portion of despair!Subdued to Duty’s hard control,I could have borne my wayward lot:The chains that bind this ruined soulHad cankered then—but crushed it not.
I.
To live alone, an isolated thing?To see the busy beings round thee spring,And care for none; in thy calm solitude,A flower that scarce breathes in the desert rudeTo Zephyr’s passing wing?II.Not the swart Pariah in some Indian grove,Lone, lean, and hunted by his brother’s hate,Hath drunk so deep the cup of bitter fateAs that poor…
Come Harriet! sweet is the hour,
The anemone’s night-boding flower,Has sunk its pale head on the ground.‘Tis thus the world’s keenness hath torn,Some mild heart that expands to its blast,‘Tis thus that the wretched forlorn,Sinks poor and neglected at last.–The world with its keenness and woe,Has no charms or attraction for me,Its unkindness with grief has laid low,The heart which is…
I hated thee, fallen tyrant! I did groan
Like thou, shouldst dance and revel on the graveOf Liberty. Thou mightst have built thy throneWhere it had stood even now: thou didst preferA frail and bloody pomp which Time has sweptIn fragments towards Oblivion. Massacre,For this I prayed, would on thy sleep have crept,Treason and Slavery, Rapine, Fear, and Lust,And stifled thee, their minister….