 | The poems of Mrs. Emma Catherine Embury |  |
SONNET.
No more,—no more, my heart! give out no moreThy solemn music to the inconstant wind,
Suffer not every careless hand to find
Thy hidden stops of harmony, nor pour,
As thou wert wont to do in days of yore,
Thy sweetest tones on ears that yield no heed:
O, be not thou like the responsive reed,
That, ever as the light air wandereth o'er,
Utters its wild and broken melody;
For I would have thee like the ocean shell,
Breathing a monotone of that deep sea
Whose moaning waves within my breast must swell,
Marking with ebb and flow my destiny,
Until death's icy touch the restless surge shall quell.
| The poems of Mrs. Emma Catherine Embury | |