Written Christmas Day 1797
I am a widow'd thing, now thou art gone!
Now thou art gone, my own familiar friend,
Companion, sister, help-mate, counsellor!
Alas! that honour'd mind, whose sweet reproof
And meekest wisdom in times past have smooth'd
The unfilial harshness of my foolish speech,
And made me loving to my parents old,
(Why is this so, ah God! why is this so?)
That honour'd mind become a fearful blank,
Her senses lock'd up, and herself kept out
From human sight or converse, while so many
Of the foolish sort are left to roam at large,
Doing all acts of folly, and sin, and shame?
Thy paths are mystery!
Yet I will not think,
Sweet friend, but we shall one day meet, and live
In quietness, and die so, fearing God.
Or if not, and these false suggestions be
[...] Read more
poem by Charles Lamb
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The Fairy
Said Ann to Matilda, 'I wish that we knew
If what we've been reading of fairies be true.
Do you think that the poet himself had a sight of
The fairies he here does so prettily write of?
O what a sweet sight if he really had seen
The graceful Titania, the Fairy-land Queen!
If I had such dreams, I would sleep a whole year;
I would not wish to wake while a fairy was near.-
Now I'll fancy that I in my sleep have been seeing
A fine little delicate lady-like being,
Whose steps and whose motions so light were and airy,
I knew at one glance that she must be a fairy.
Her eyes they were blue, and her fine curling hair
Of the lightest of browns, her complexion more fair
Than I e'er saw a woman's; and then for her height,
I verily think that she measured not quite
Two feet, yet so justly proportioned withal,
I was almost persuaded to think she was tall.
Her voice was the little thin note of a sprite-
There-d'ye think I have made out a fairy aright?
[...] Read more
poem by Charles Lamb
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Hester
WHEN maidens such as Hester die
Their place ye may not well supply,
Though ye among a thousand try
With vain endeavour.
A month or more hath she been dead,
Yet cannot I by force be led
To think upon the wormy bed
And her together.
A springy motion in her gait,
A rising step, did indicate
Of pride and joy no common rate,
That flush'd her spirit:
I know not by what name beside
I shall it call: if 'twas not pride,
It was a joy to that allied,
She did inherit.
[...] Read more
poem by Charles Lamb
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Queen Oriana's Dream
On a bank with roses shaded,
Whose sweet scent the violets aided,
Violets whose breath alone
Yields but feeble smell or none,
(Sweeter bed Jove ne'er repos'd on
When his eyes Olympus closed on,)
While o'er head six slaves did hold
Canopy of cloth o' gold,
And two more did music keep,
Which might Juno lull to sleep,
Oriana who was queen
To the mighty Tamerlane,
That was lord of all the land
Between Thrace and Samarchand,
While the noon-tide fervor beam'd,
Mused herself to sleep, and dream'd.
Thus far, in magnific strain,
A young poet sooth'd his vein,
[...] Read more
poem by Charles Lamb
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
To Charles Lloyd: An Unexpected Visitor
Alone, obscure, without a friend,
A cheerless, solitary thing,
Why seeks, my Lloyd, the stranger out?
What offering can the stranger bring
Of social scenes, home-bred delights,
That him in aught compensate may
For Stowey's pleasant winter nights,
For loves and friendships far away?
In brief oblivion to forego
Friends, such as thine, so justly dear,
And be awhile with me content
To stay, a kindly loiterer, here:
For this a gleam of random joy
Hath flush'd my unaccustom'd cheek;
[...] Read more
poem by Charles Lamb
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Cleanliness
Come, my little Robert, near-
Fie! what filthy hands are here-
Who that e'er could understand
The rare structure of a hand,
With its branching fingers fine,
Work itself of hands divine,
Strong, yet delicately knit,
For ten thousand uses fit,
Overlaid with so clear skin
You may see the blood within,
And the curious palm, disposed
In such lines, some have supposed
You may read the fortunes there
By the figures that appear,-
Who this hand would choose to cover
With a crust of dirt all over,
Till it looked in hue and shape
Like the fore-foot of an ape?
Man or boy that works or plays
In the fields or the highways,
[...] Read more
poem by Charles Lamb
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Discontent And Quarrelling
JANE.
Miss Lydia every day is drest
Better than I am in my best
White cambric-muslin frock.
I wish I had one made of clear
Worked lawn, or leno very dear.-
And then my heart is broke
Almost to think how cheap my doll
Was bought, when hers cost-yes, cost full
A pound, it did, my brother;
Nor has she had it weeks quite five,
Yet, 'tis as true as I'm alive,
She's soon to have another.
ROBERT.
O mother, hear my sister Jane,
How foolishly she does complain,
[...] Read more
poem by Charles Lamb
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
David In The Cave Of Adullam
David and his three captains bold
Kept ambush once within a hold.
It was in Adullam's cave,
Nigh which no water they could have.
Nor spring nor running brook was near
To quench the thirst that parched them there.
Then David king of Israel
Straight bethought him of a well
Which stood beside the city gate
At Bethlem: where, before his state
Of kingly dignity, he had
Oft drunk his fill, a shepherd lad.
But now his fierce Philistian foe
Encamped before it he does know.
Yet ne'er the less with heat opprest,
Those three bold captains he addrest,
And wished that one to him would bring
Some water from his native spring.
His valiant captains instantly
To execute his will did fly.
[...] Read more
poem by Charles Lamb
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
To A Young Lady, On Being Too Fond Of Music
Why is your mind thus all day long
Upon your music set;
Till reason's swallowed in a song,
Or idle canzonet?
I grant you, Melesinda, when
Your instrument was new,
I was well pleased to see you then
Its charms assiduous woo.
The rudiments of any art
Or mastery that we try,
Are only on the learner's part
Got by hard industry.
But you are past your first essays;
Whene'er you play, your touch,
[...] Read more
poem by Charles Lamb
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The Broken Doll
An infant is a selfish sprite;
But what of that? the sweet delight
Which from participation springs,
Is quite unknown to these young things.
We elder children then will smile
At our dear little John awhile,
And bear with him, until he see
There is a sweet felicity
In pleasing more than only one
Dear little craving selfish John.
He laughs, and thinks it a fine joke,
That he our new wax doll has broke.
Anger will never teach him better;
We will the spirit and the letter
Of courtesy to him display
By taking in a friendly way
These baby frolics; till he learn
True sport from mischief to discern.
[...] Read more
poem by Charles Lamb
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
