The Project Gutenberg eBook, Poems, by Frances Anne Butler
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
Title: Poems
Author: Frances Anne Butler
Release Date: January 7, 2008 [eBook #24216]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS***
Transcribed from the 1844 Henry Washbourne edition by David Price,
ccx074@pglaf.org
POEMS,
BY
FRANCES ANNE BUTLER,
(LATE FANNY KEMBLE.)
LONDON:
(REPRINTED FROM THE AMERICAN EDITION.)
HENRY WASHBOURNE, NEW BRIDGE STREET,
BLACKFRIARS.
OLIVER & BOYD, EDINBURGH, MACHEN & CO. DUBLIN.
MDCCCXLIV.
LONDON:
Printed by STEWART and MURRAY,
Old Bailey.
TO
KATHARINE SEDGWICK,
THIS LITTLE VOLUME
IS
MOST RESPECTFULLY, GRATEFULLY,
AND AFFECTIONATELY
INSCRIBED.
LINES WRITTEN AT NIGHT.
August 9th, 1825.
Oh, thou surpassing beauty! that dost live
Shrined in yon silent stream of glorious light!
Spirit of harmony! that through the vast
And cloud-embroidered canopy art spreading
Thy wings, that o'er our shadowy earth hang brooding,
Like a pale silver haze, betwixt the moon
And the world's darker orb: beautiful, hail!
Hail to thee! from her midnight throne of ether,
Night looks upon the slumbering universe.
There is no breeze on silver-crowned tree,
There is no breath on dew-bespangled flower,
There is no wind sighs on the sleepy wave,
There is no sound hangs in the solemn air.
All, all are silent, all are dreaming, all,
Save those eternal eyes, that now shine forth
Winking the slumberer's destinies. The moon
Sails on the horizon's verge, a moving glory,
Pure, and unrivalled; for no paler orb
Approaches, to invade the sea of light
That lives around her; save yon little star,
That sparkles on her robe of fleecy clouds,
Like a bright gem, fallen from her radiant brow.
VENICE.
Night in her dark array
Steals o'er the ocean,
And with departed day
Hushed seems its motion.
Slowly o'er yon blue coast
Onward she's treading,
'Till its dark line is lost,
'Neath her veil spreading.
The bark on the rippling deep
Hath found a pillow,
And the pale moonbeams sleep
On the green billow.
Bound by her emerald zone
Venice is l
|