Poems by Hartley Coleridge With a Memoir of his Life by his Brother. In Two Volumes |
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AGNES. |
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 | Poems by Hartley Coleridge |  |
180
AGNES.
In an old house, a country dwelling, nigh
A river, chafed by many a wave-worn stone,
A good man kept old hospitality,
With a warm purse well filled by industry
And prosperous dealings in the torrid zone.
A river, chafed by many a wave-worn stone,
A good man kept old hospitality,
With a warm purse well filled by industry
And prosperous dealings in the torrid zone.
His spouse was comely, stricken well in years;
His daughters' faces lighted all the house,
And they had tongues as well as eyes and ears.
But one there was, the youngest of the dears,
A child sedate, as still as any mouse.
His daughters' faces lighted all the house,
And they had tongues as well as eyes and ears.
But one there was, the youngest of the dears,
A child sedate, as still as any mouse.
Still as a little timid mouse she sat;
And yet her stillness seemed not to be fear,
Like mouse's hiding from the whisker'd cat.
Oh no! whate'er the subject of our chat,
She seemed to drink it in with eye and ear.
And yet her stillness seemed not to be fear,
Like mouse's hiding from the whisker'd cat.
Oh no! whate'er the subject of our chat,
She seemed to drink it in with eye and ear.
181
I cannot say she had a speaking eye,
For when my eye with hers would fain converse,
She would begin her needle's task to ply,
Stirring her little fingers busily;
And, wanting work, the kitten would she nurse.
For when my eye with hers would fain converse,
She would begin her needle's task to ply,
Stirring her little fingers busily;
And, wanting work, the kitten would she nurse.
Soon as she could, she unobserved withdrew,
Determined of my purpose to defeat me.
And yet I loved her, as I always do
All pretty maids that are too young to woo,
However scurvily they choose to treat me.
Determined of my purpose to defeat me.
And yet I loved her, as I always do
All pretty maids that are too young to woo,
However scurvily they choose to treat me.
Years have gone by, her worthy father dead,
And she could deem herself a child no longer.
Who can conceive what thoughts in her were bred,
When she beheld her elder sisters wed,
And womanhood in her grew daily stronger?
And she could deem herself a child no longer.
Who can conceive what thoughts in her were bred,
When she beheld her elder sisters wed,
And womanhood in her grew daily stronger?
Or did she feel a warning in her heart,
An inward clock, that timely struck eleven,
And said, sweet Agnes, tender as thou art,
One hour is thine; be ready to depart;
Thy spouse affianced waits for thee in heaven?
An inward clock, that timely struck eleven,
And said, sweet Agnes, tender as thou art,
One hour is thine; be ready to depart;
Thy spouse affianced waits for thee in heaven?
182
I cannot tell, for I was far away,
By what slow course of gracious discipline,
Through gradual shades of unperceived decay,
As moonlight steals on fading summer day,
Her spiritual eye was trained to light divine.
By what slow course of gracious discipline,
Through gradual shades of unperceived decay,
As moonlight steals on fading summer day,
Her spiritual eye was trained to light divine.
But yet I trust she never knew the woe
Of body's waste, that brings despair and dearth
Unto the soul; that living death, so slow,
That leaves to those that would yet would not go,
No love of heaven, but weary hate of earth.
Of body's waste, that brings despair and dearth
Unto the soul; that living death, so slow,
That leaves to those that would yet would not go,
No love of heaven, but weary hate of earth.
Nay, better, loving dearly to the last
All that she ever loved, with fond delay
The latest hour before her spirit past,
Prayed yet, though feeling that her lot was cast,
Like Jesus, that the cup might pass away.
All that she ever loved, with fond delay
The latest hour before her spirit past,
Prayed yet, though feeling that her lot was cast,
Like Jesus, that the cup might pass away.
| Poems by Hartley Coleridge | |