 | The poems of Mrs. Emma Catherine Embury |  |
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THE POETIC IMPULSE.
Away, vain yearnings, for a wild ideal!
Why tempt ye me like visions from above?
Why throng round one who dwells amid things real,
Who quaffs the cup of earthly grief and love?
Why tempt ye me like visions from above?
Why throng round one who dwells amid things real,
Who quaffs the cup of earthly grief and love?
Away, away, and leave me still to follow
The varied path God gives me to pursue,
The joys of fancy are but false and hollow,
They shall not win me to forget the true.
The varied path God gives me to pursue,
The joys of fancy are but false and hollow,
They shall not win me to forget the true.
Away, nor tempt me with thy bright revealings
Of Poesy's sweet fairy-land of dreams;
Better for me to nurse the gentler feelings
Which light my home with calm contentment's beams.
Of Poesy's sweet fairy-land of dreams;
Better for me to nurse the gentler feelings
Which light my home with calm contentment's beams.
Away, away, ye make my footsteps falter,
When o'er my lowly way your fair forms come;
To her who serves at the Penates' altar,
The Delphic oracles must still be dumb.
When o'er my lowly way your fair forms come;
To her who serves at the Penates' altar,
The Delphic oracles must still be dumb.
| The poems of Mrs. Emma Catherine Embury | |