Tennyson
How beautiful to live as thou didst live!
How beautiful to die as thou didst die,—
In moonlight of the night, without a sigh,
At rest in all the best that love could give!
How excellent to bear into old age
The poet's ardor and the heart of youth,
To keep to the last sleep the vow of truth,
And leave to lands that grieve a glowing page!
How glorious to feel the spirit's power
Unbroken by the near approach of death,
To breathe blest prophecies with failing breath,
Soul-bound to beauty in that latest hour!
How sweet to greet, in final kinship owned,
The master-spirit to thy dreams so dear,
At last from his immortal lips to hear
The dirge for Imogen, and thee, intoned!
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poem by Florence Earle Coates from Poems (1898)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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When Christ was Born
On that divine all-hallowed morn
When Christ in Bethlehem was born,
How lone did Mary seem to be,
The kindly beasts for company!
Yet when she saw her infant's face—
Fair with the soul's unfading grace,
Softly she wept for love's excess,
For painless ease and happiness.
She pressed her treasure to her heart—
A lowly mother, set apart
In the dear way that mothers are,
And heaven seemed nigh, and earth afar:
And when grave kings in sumptuous guise
Adored her babe, she knew them wise;
For at his touch her sense grew dim—
So all her being worshiped him.
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poem by Florence Earle Coates from Mine and Thine (1904)
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Man
I was born as free as the silvery light
That laughs in a Southern fountain;
Free as the sea-fed bird that nests
On a Scandinavian mountain,
Free as the wind that mocks at the sway
And pinioning clasp of another,
Yet in the slave they scourged to-day
I saw and knew—my brother!
Vested in purple I sat apart,
But the cord that smote him bruised me;
I closed my ears, but the sob that broke
From his savage breast accused me;
No phrase of reasoning judgement just
The plaint of my soul could smother,
A creature vile, abased to the dust,
I knew him still—my brother.
And the autumn day that had smiled so fair
Seemed suddenly overclouded;
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poem by Florence Earle Coates from Poems (1898)
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In Winter
It will be long ere 'neath the sunlight dimpling,
The mountain snows melt back to earth's still breast,
Ere swallows build, and wayward brooklets wimpling
O'er pebbly beds, wind by the pewee's nest,
Ere swells the lily's cup, ere transport strong
Thrills in the bluebird's lay,—it will be long!
It will be long ere dews and fresh'ning showers
Descend where latticed roses languid burn,
Ere, pale from exile, nodding wayside flowers
And timid woodland darlings home return,
Ere vesper-sparrows chant their Delphian song,
And larks at sunrise sing,—it will be long!
But though fierce blow the winds through forests shrouded,
Where snows, for leafy verdure, cheerless cling,
Though seas moan wild, and skies are darkly clouded,—
Within the heart that loves 't is always spring!
There memories and hopes, fresh-budding, throng,
And faith forgets that Winter lingers long.
poem by Florence Earle Coates from Poems (1898)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Combatants
He seemed to call me, and I shrank dismayed,
Deeming he threatened all I held most dear;
But when at last his summons I obeyed,
Perplexed and full of fear,
I found upon his face no angry frown,—
Only a visor down.
Indignant that his voice, so calm and sweet,
In my despite, unto my soul appealed,
I cried, "If thou hast courage, turn and meet
A foeman full revealed!"
And with determined zeal that made me strong,
Contended with him long.
But oh, the armor he so meekly bore
Was wrought for him in other worlds than ours!
In firm defense of what he battled for,
Were leagued eternal powers!
I fell; yet overwhelmed by my disgrace,
At last I saw his face.
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poem by Florence Earle Coates from Poems (1898)
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Psyche
Softly, with palpitating heart,
She came to where he lay concealed apart.
The lamp she held intensified the gloom,
And in the dusk wrought shadowy shapes of doom.
Her starry eyes
O'er-brimmed with troubled tears,
Her pulses throbbing wildly in her ears,
She stood beside him where he lay
Hushed in the deep
Of sweet unconscious sleep.
But as she stifled back her sighs
And tried to look upon that cherished form,
Remembrance shook her purpose warm,
And, chiding, seemed to say,—
"Why seek to solve, why, curious, thus destroy
The mystery of joy?
What doubt unblest, what faithless fear is this,
Which tempts to paths none may retrace,
Which moves thee—fond one!—to unveil the face
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poem by Florence Earle Coates from Poems (1898)
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By the Conemaugh
Foreboding sudden of untoward change,
A tight'ning clasp on everything held dear,
A moan of waters wild and strange,
A whelming horror near;
And, midst the thund’rous din a voice of doom,—
"Make way for me, O Life, for Death make room!
"I come like the whirlwind rude,
'Gainst all thou hast cherished warring;
I come like the flaming flood
From a crater's mouth outpouring;
I come like the avalanche gliding free;
And the Power that sent thee forth, sends me!
"Where thou hast builded with strength secure
My hand shall spread disaster;
Where thou hast barr'd me, with forethought sure,
Shall ruin flow the faster;
I come to gather where thou hast sowed,—
But I claim of thee nothing thou hast not owed!
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poem by Florence Earle Coates from Poems (1898)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Ma Belle
The world is full of charm, ma belle,
And blithe as you are young;
It echoes with a silver note
The lispings of your tongue;
It lays upon your fairy hand
A touch as light as down;
It smiles approval, and, ma belle,
You have not felt its frown.
The world is very rich, ma belle,
And all its gifts are yours.
It bows before you, little one,
And while the mood endures,
With roses, freshly garlanded,
Your pathway bright adorns;
But roses fade, ma belle, ma belle—
And there are left the thorns!
To snare your feet, the world, ma belle,
Has spread a shining net,
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poem by Florence Earle Coates from Poems (1898)
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The Little Lass
As Douglas to his castle came,
Emotion nerved his shatter'd frame,
And soft he pondered,—"Presently
My little lass will welcome me!
"As longs the miser for his gold,
As fever longs, with thirst untold,
So yearns my heart her face to see,
Who yonder waits to welcome me!"
But as he turned his steed about,
A mournful peal of bells rung out;
Whereat he cried,—"Nay, merrily!
Ring forth my bairn to welcome me!"
He entered at the castle gate;
(None marked him come, for it grew late,)
He stood within his hall at last;
(None heeded him, for tears fell fast.)
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poem by Florence Earle Coates from Poems (1898)
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Betrothal
Both your hands? . . . What mean they, dear?
I, unworthy,— dare I claim you?
Then, against the world, I hold you:
Mine—forever mine!
Men have waked from dreams of joy:
Teach me to believe this rapture!
Lift your eyes! O my beloved,
Let me read your heart!
Is it true? . . . Ah, me! those eyes!
How divinely kind!—how tender!
Doubt itself could not distrust them,
Or resist their light!
Dear, without you, I have been
Poorer than the humblest beggar
Who against your door at nightfall
Kneeling, asked for bread:
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poem by Florence Earle Coates from Mine and Thine (1904)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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