University of Virginia Library

Search this document 
Poems by Frederick Goddard Tuckerman

Tuckerman, Frederick Goddard (1821-1873)

expand section1. 
PART I.
expand section2. 
PART II.
collapse section 
Sonnets.
collapse section1. 
PART 1.
 1. 
[I. Sometimes, when winding slow by brook and bower]
 2. 
[II. Wherefore, with this belief, held like a blade]
 3. 
[III. And borne with theirs, my proudest thoughts do seem]
 4. 
[IV. Nor looks that backward life so bare to me]
 5. 
[V. And so the day drops by; the horizon draws]
 6. 
[VI. Not sometimes, but, to him that heeds the whole]
 7. 
[VII. Dank fens of cedar; hemlock-branches gray]
 8. 
[VIII. As when, down some broad River dropping, we]
 9. 
[IX. Yet wear we on; the deep light disallowed]
 10. 
[X. An upper chamber in a darkened house]
 11. 
[XI. What profits it to me, though here allowed]
 12. 
[XII. Tall, stately plants, with spikes and forks of gold]
 13. 
[XIII. As one who walks and weeps by alien brine]
 14. 
[XIV. Not proud of station; nor in worldly pelf]
 15. 
[XV. And she, her beauty never made her cold]
 16. 
[XVI. Yet Nature, where the thunder leaves its trace]
 17. 
[XVII. All men,—the Preacher saith,—whate'er or whence]
 18. 
[XVIII. Perchance his own small field some charge demands]
 19. 
[XIX. Yet vain, perhaps, the fruits our care applaud]
 20. 
[XX. Still craves the spirit: never Nature solves]
 21. 
[XXI. O Father, God! to whom, in happier days]
 22. 
[XXII. The morning comes; not slow, with reddening gold]
 23. 
[XXIII. Shall I not see her? Yes; for one has seen]
 24. 
[XXIV. Perhaps a dream; yet surely truth has beamed]
 25. 
[XXV. By this low fire I often sit to woo]
 26. 
[XXVI. For Nature daily through her grand design]
 27. 
[XXVII. So, to the mind long brooding but on it]
 28. 
[XXVIII. Not the round natural world, not the deep mind]
expand section2. 
PART II.

collapse section Collapse All | Expand All expand section
previous section Poems by Frederick Goddard Tuckerman
next section
186

[XVI. Yet Nature, where the thunder leaves its trace]

Yet Nature, where the thunder leaves its trace
On the high hemlock pine, or sandstone bank,
Hating all shock of hue, or contrast rank,
With some consenting colour heals the place,
Or o'er it draws her mosses green and dank,
So gentle Time will bring with tender craft
Another day, and other greens ingraft
On the dead soil, so fire-burned now, and blank.
What we have had, we hold! and cannot sink
Remembrance: patience cometh from above.
And now he breathes apart, to daily drink
In tears the bitter ashes of his love,
Yet precious rich, and a diviner draught
Than Agria, or Artemisia drank!
previous section Poems by Frederick Goddard Tuckerman
next section