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Poems

Tuckerman, Henry T. (1813-1871)

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POEMS.
  
THE SPIRIT OF POETRY.
  
THE APOLLO BELVIDERE.
  
MARY.
  
NORTHAMPTON.
  
LOVE AND FAME.
  
NEWPORT BEACH.
  
THE VESTAL.
  
WASHINGTON'S STATUE.
  
TO AN ELM.
  
TASSO TO LEONORA.
  
THE MODERN HERO.
  
HELOISE.
  
THE GREEK SLAVE.
  
ROME.
  
TRI-MOUNTAIN.
  
THE RINGLET.
  
WINTER.
  
VICTORINE.
  
IL PENSEROSO.
  
SLEEPY HOLLOW.
  
LORD BYRON AT VENICE.
  
LUNA.—AN ODE.
  
EVA.
  
TO LADY BLANCHE:
  
SURREY TO GERALDINE.
  
WEST POINT.
  
THE DIRGE OF THE MARINER.
  
THE NIGHT-BLOOMING CEREUS.
  
THE HOLY LAND.
  
LOVE AND TIME.
  
THE TWO PALMS.
  
THE UNKNOWN PORTRAIT.
  
TO THE CYPRESS.
  
LAKE CANEPO.
  
FAITH'S WARNING.
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SONNETS.
 1. 
I. FREEDOM.
 2. 
II. VANDERLYN'S ARIADNE.
 3. 
III. TO ONE DECEIVED.
 4. 
IV. SLEEP.
 5. 
V. THE WILLOW.
 6. 
VI. THE BALCONY.
 7. 
VII. ON A LANDSCAPE BY BACKHUYSEN.
 8. 
VIII. THE INDIAN SUMMER.
 9. 
IX. ON A PORTRAIT OF MRS. NORTON.
 10. 
X. ON A BUST OF WEBSTER.
 11. 
XI. SPRING
 12. 
XII. TO PIUS IX.
 13. 
XIII. TO THE SAME.
 14. 
XIV. ON THE DEATH OF ALLSTON.
 15. 
XV. FROM THE ITALIAN.
 16. 
XVI. THE BASSO-RELIEVO OF JUPITER AND HEBE.
 17. 
XVII. TO JENNY LIND.
 18. 
XVIII. DESOLATION.
 19. 
XIX. STEINHAUSEN'S HERO AND LEANDER.
 20. 
XX. DELAROCHE'S PICTURE OF NAPOLEON CROSSING THE ALPS.
 21. 
XXI. ALLEGHANIA.
 22. 
[XXII. O for a castle on a woodland height]
 23. 
[XXIII. The rain-drops patter on the casement still]
 24. 
[XXIV. What though our dream is broken? Yet again]
 25. 
[XXV. In my first youth, the feverish thirst for gain]
 26. 
[XXVI. Courage and patience! elements whereby]
 27. 
[XXVII. Like the fair sea that laves Italia's strand]
 28. 
[XXVIII. The buds have opened, and in leafy pride]
 29. 
XXIX. SEMPRE LO STESSO.

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170

[XXIV.
What though our dream is broken? Yet again]

What though our dream is broken? Yet again
Like a familiar angel it shall bear
Consoling treasures for these days of pain,
Such as they only who have grieved can share;
As unhived nectar for the bee to sip,
Lurks in each flower-cell which the spring-time brings,
As music rests upon the quiet lip,
And power to soar yet lives in folded wings,
So let the love on which our spirits glide,
Flow deep and strong beneath its bridge of sighs,
No shadow resting on the latent tide
Whose heaven-ward current baffles human eyes,
Until we stand upon the holy shore,
And realms it prophesied, at length explore.
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