From De Vigny
Come on the sea, beloved,
Fearless and free;
Leave friends and wealth behind;
Come, come with me.
My bark on the water shines
A fairy thing; --
See her pennon, mast, and keel!
She is but a little shell,
Yet there I am king.
The earth was made for the slave,
Oh maiden free!
But for man, the stern and brave,
The boundless sea.
The waves breathe in their flow
A mystery,
And tenderly they sing,
In their soft murmuring, --
Love, Liberty.
poem by Anne Lynch Botta from Poems (1848)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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To ----
Within these leafless trees,
That bare against the sky,
Their naked branches rear;
Leaves, buds, and blossoms lie.
So beauty's myriad forms,
Within thy soul are sleeping;
While thou, upon their sleep,
A wintry spell art keeping.
But soon the leaves and flowers
Shall burst their living tomb,
And fill the air around
With perfume and with bloom.
And buried in thy heart,
Shall thought's fair blossoms lie,
Forever unrevealed,
To wither and to die?
poem by Anne Lynch Botta from Poems (1848)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Lines
Sing me that song again,
That wild, impassioned lay;
The tumult of my throbbing brain
Thy voice shall charm away.
Pour that harmonious flood
Upon my thirsting ear;
'Twill cool the fever of my blood
Those silvery notes to hear.
Sing me that mournful song,
That song of love and woe,
That these full fountains, closed so long,
Once more may overflow.
And while those gentle strings
Thy fairy hand sweeps o'er,
Upon thy music's trembling wings
My fainting soul shall soar.
poem by Anne Lynch Botta from Poems (1848)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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To a poet, painter and musician
Three Muses one day
Had a serious fray,
Concerning a youth who had wandered astray,
And fast up Parnassus was taking his way.
They each urged a claim
Each gave him her name,
And each vowed to crown him with chaplets of fame.
Frown followed retort,
Till to cut it all short,
They decided to carry the case up to court.
Appllo averred,
That from all he had heard,
The claim of exclusiveness seemed quite absurd;
And he gave his decree
That this soul should be free
For the "joint occupancy" of the whole three.
poem by Anne Lynch Botta from Poems (1848)
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On receiving a picture of an Italian Countess
Oh lovely semblance of a lovelier face!
Upon thy classic contour as I gaze,
My eager thought flies through dividing space;
And to the living picture tribute pays.
I see that brow with thought and goodness crowned,
I see those eyes with deep affection shine;
I hear the language from those sweet lips sound,
By poets made immortal and divine.
I would that I might follow my free thought,
And see this gentle stranger face to face;
For such fair spirits I have ever sought,
And such would ever hold in my embrace.
poem by Anne Lynch Botta from Poems (1848)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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To ----, in obscurity
In full-orbed splendor now the queen of Night,
Among the stars walks in her pride of place,
And how again we miss that flood of light
That overflowed the azure fields of space.
But though her brightness meets no more the gaze,
As in her wonted orbit she declines,
Yet not extinguished are her silver rays, --
She shines in shadow, but not less she shines.
Soon will she rise again upon the sight,
Passing the darkened shape that bids her wane;
Then shall we see her, in unclouded light,
Take her own place among the stars again.
poem by Anne Lynch Botta from Poems (1848)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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To the same
Thy patron, good St. Valentine,
Who lived so long ago,
Watched only over happy hearts,
As all true lovers know.
But thou, born on his natal day,
A truer saint I find;
While he alone the happy loved,
Thou lovest all thy kind.
Through all the sorrows, woes, and ills of life,
That cloud our earthly road,
Serene through discord, danger, storm, and strife,
Thou seem'st to walk with God.
And so thy gracious presence ever sheds
A light as from above—
A light that all thy being overspreads
With Faith, and Hope, and Love.
poem by Anne Lynch Botta from Poems (1848)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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To the venerable General Gaines
Though Time has silvered o'er thy honored head,
And left some traces on thy gallant form,
Upon thy soul no hoar-frost has he shed,
Nor chilled the heart that yet beats true and warm.
And he, in whom the glow of early feeling,
Youth's fire and ardor, are not dimmed and cold,
Who still life's morning freshness is revealing, --
Howe'er Time's record stands, can ne'er grow old.
The fabled fountain of immortal youth,
That Ponce de Leon sought with such unrest,
In far-off southern isles, thou'st found in truth;
Its living waters gush within thy breast.
poem by Anne Lynch Botta from Poems (1848)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Lines to ----
I thank thee---not for that kind deed alone,
Though deep within my heart the record lies,
Engraved with those few pleasant memories,
That like stray sunbeams on my life have shone:
I thank thee most for this---that when belief
In human worth was darkening into doubt,---
As one by one, I marked with bitter grief
Those I had reverenced with a faith devout
Turn recreant back upon their heavenward way
And sink before me into common clay;
That thou dost come my faith to reassure,
My wavering trust in goodness to restore,
And bid my fainting hope take wing once more.
poem by Anne Lynch Botta from Poems (1848)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Springtime
Over the valleys and over the mountains,
Borne on the wings of the south wind I come;
Breaking the ice-chains, unloosing the fountains,
Waking all Nature to beauty and bloom.
Flowers from the green turf in myriads are springing;
Zephyrs are faint with the perfume they bear;
While the voices of Earth, Air, and Ocean are singing,
Hail to the springtime! the youth of the year!
Oh, gather my rosebuds and sport in my bowers,
Children of Earth, while my footsteps I stay.
Wreathe with your garlands my vanishing hours,
Which like life's sunny springtime are passing away.
poem by Anne Lynch Botta from Poems (1848)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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