The Isles of Loch Awe and Other Poems of my Youth With Sixteen Illustrations. By Philip Gilbert Hamerton |
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| VII. |
TO HER BROTHER. |
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 | The Isles of Loch Awe and Other Poems of my Youth |  |
176
TO HER BROTHER.
An angel guarded me at birth;
And, when my sainted mother died,
Withheld me from the hungry earth,
And sweetly prophesied:
And, when my sainted mother died,
Withheld me from the hungry earth,
And sweetly prophesied:
“No, Death! not yet. If overcome,
He never can accomplish good;
But know you not that there are some
Strongest in solitude?
He never can accomplish good;
But know you not that there are some
Strongest in solitude?
And such may be this orphan's strength;
He will improve his mental frame
With lonely training, and at length
Rise suddenly to fame.
He will improve his mental frame
With lonely training, and at length
Rise suddenly to fame.
Since Nature often makes amends,
If he desire it, he may find
A brother's heart amongst his friends—
A brotherhood of mind.”
If he desire it, he may find
A brother's heart amongst his friends—
A brotherhood of mind.”
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And thus, my friend, I found in you
Some compensation for the wrong
Of birth; and since our love is true,
May it endure as long
Some compensation for the wrong
Of birth; and since our love is true,
May it endure as long
As does a blood-relationship—
So long that each of us may hear
Approval from a rival's lip,
Believing it sincere.
So long that each of us may hear
Approval from a rival's lip,
Believing it sincere.
By this I have a double gain—
A sister worthy of my love—
Unless her gentle heart disdain,
Or you might not approve
A sister worthy of my love—
Unless her gentle heart disdain,
Or you might not approve
Such dear adoption, knowing well
That it might lead me farther still;
And that affection would rebel
Against the yielding will,
That it might lead me farther still;
And that affection would rebel
Against the yielding will,
Which would not drag her nature down,
Or shade the sunlight of her face;
Or to the level of my own
Her better soul debase.
Or shade the sunlight of her face;
Or to the level of my own
Her better soul debase.
| The Isles of Loch Awe and Other Poems of my Youth | |