As from Afar
To see thee, hear thee, wistful watch I keep—
Mother, who in immensity dost dwell—
A child who listens for the boundless deep,
Her ear against a shell:
And vainly though I seek thy face to scan,
Lost in the vasty temple where thou art,
Faint breathings of thy voice æolian
Vibrate against my heart.
poem by Florence Earle Coates from Mine and Thine (1904)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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"Go Not Too Far"
Go not too far—too far beyond my gaze,
Thou who canst never pass beyond the yearning
Which, even as the dark for dawning stays,
Awaits thy loved returning!
Go not too far! Howe'er thy fancies roam,
Let them come back, wide-circling like the swallow,
Lest I, for very need, should try to come—
And find I could not follow!
poem by Florence Earle Coates from Mine and Thine (1904)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Wouldst Thou Learn?
Wouldst thou learn what coldness is,
Seek it not where Hebrus flows,
Shuddering, to the abyss;
Nor where Hermon's gleaming snows,
On its frozen heights, repose;
But on such a morn as this,
When no blade of grass is dumb,
When the birds, low-twittering, build,
And Earth's heart is passion-thrill'd,—
Come to Love's deserted home!
poem by Florence Earle Coates from Poems (1898)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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"I Longed for Love"
Ilonged for love, and eager to discover
Its hiding-place, I wandered far and wide;
And as forlorn I sought the lone world over,
Unrecognized, love journeyed at my side.
I craved for peace, and priceless years expended
In unrewarded search from shore to shore;
But home returned, the weary seeking ended,
Peace welcomed me where dwelt my peace of yore!
poem by Florence Earle Coates from Mine and Thine (1904)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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An Idler
She cannot wind the distaff,
She can nor bake nor brew;
Her hands are indeed too dainty
Such labors to pursue.
She cares not to follow the harvest,
She neither can sow nor glean,
But waits for the weary reapers
With cheerful calm serene.
Commanding all to serve her,
From service she is free;
But, ah, my babe so helpless
Is health and wealth to me!
poem by Florence Earle Coates from Poems (1898)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Song : "Friendship from its Moorings Strays"
Friendship from its moorings strays,
Love binds fast together;
Friendship is for balmy days,
Love for stormy weather.
For itself the one contends,
Fancied wrongs regretting—
Love the thing it loves defends,
All besides forgetting.
Friendship is the morning lark
Toward the sunrise winging,
Love the nightingale, at dark
Most divinely singing!
poem by Florence Earle Coates from Poems (1898)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Beethoven
He cursed the day when he was born;
And deaf and desolate,
Resolved, in bitterness forlorn,
To end his hapless fate.
But as the deeper silence grew—
An exile from the throng,
His yearning spirit voices drew
From inner founts of song;
And he who called unfriendly death
To calm rebellious strife,
Won from his own despair the breath
Of an immortal life.
poem by Florence Earle Coates from Mine and Thine (1904)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Stanza : "The Voices of All Waters"
The voices of all waters that make moan—
Loudly upbraiding the impassive sky,
Have not the meaning of one human groan,
Have not the pathos of one human sigh;
And neither that blithe strain whereby
The brook doth wintry doubts destroy,
Nor that pure rhapsody the woodland sings,
When Summer to its heart contentment brings,—
Breathes unto Heaven such praise as human joy!
poem by Florence Earle Coates from Poems (1898)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Crippled
Why hast Thou bound my feet,
Then bade me toil ceaselessly after Thee ?
How should a thing so broken, incomplete —
Ah, how should I, Lord ! plant these faltering feet
Where shifting sands of Earth so baffle me ?
Have I not set thy limits ? Who should know,
Better than I, what sloughs I lead thee through ?
Mine is the power to hinder — and make free :
Walk thou with me!
poem by Florence Earle Coates from Mine and Thine (1904)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Love Conquers Death
Love conquers Death by night and day,
Beguiles him long of his destined prey;
And when, at last, that seems to perish
Which he hath striven still to cherish,
Love plucks the soul from the fallen clay.
Death is not master, but Love's slave:
He smites the timid and the brave;
Yet as he fares, with sweet low laughter,
Love, the sower, follows after,
Scattering seed in each new-made grave!
poem by Florence Earle Coates from Poems (1898)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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