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The Dream and Other Poems

By the Hon'ble Mrs Norton
Norton, Caroline Sheridan (1808-1877)
  
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[section]
  
DEDICATION.
  
THE DREAM.
  
THE CREOLE GIRL;
  
TWILIGHT.
  
A DESTINY.
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MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.
  
THE CHAPEL ROYAL ST. JAMES'S,
  
ON SEEING ANTHONY, THE ELDEST CHILD OF LORD AND LADY ASHLEY.
  
THE DYING HOUR.
  
I CANNOT LOVE THEE!
  
THE POET'S CHOICE.
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THE GERMAN STUDENT'S LOVE-SONG.
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 IV. 
IV.
  
THE HUNTING-HORN OF CHARLEMAGNE.
  
THE FAITHFUL FRIEND.
  
TO FERDINAND SEYMOUR.
  
THE WINTER'S WALK.
  
THE REPRIEVE.
  
THE FAITHFUL GUARDIAN.
  
THE FORSAKEN.
  
THE VISIONARY PORTRAIT.
  
THE PICTURE OF SAPPHO.
  
THE SENSE OF BEAUTY.
  
THE MOTHER'S HEART.
  
MAY-DAY, 1837.
  
THE FEVER-DREAM.
  
TO THE LADY H. O.
  
THE FALLEN LEAVES.
  
THE AUTUMN WIND.
  
THE BLIND MAN'S BRIDE.
  
THE WIDOW TO HER SON'S BETROTHED.
  
THE TRYST.
  
THE BANNER OF THE COVENANTERS.
  
THE ROCK OF THE BETRAYED.
  
THE LAMENT FOR SHUIL DONALD'S DAUGHTER.
  
WEEP NOT FOR HIM THAT DIETH.
  
THE CHILD OF EARTH.
  
THE CHRISTENING.
  
THE MOTHER'S LAST WATCH.
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SONNETS.
 I. 
SONNET I. ON SEEING THE BUST OF THE YOUNG PRINCESS DE MONTFORT
 II. 
SONNET II. RAPHAEL.
 III. 
SONNET III. THE FORNARINA.
 IV. 
SONNET IV.
 V. 
SONNET V.
 VI. 
SONNET VI.
 VII. 
SONNET VII.
 VIII. 
SONNET VIII. O MY BOOKS.
 IX. 
SONNET IX. TO THE COUNTESS HELÉNE ZAVADOWSKY.
 X. 
SONNET X. TO TAGLIONI.
 XI. 
SONNET XI. THE MOSS-WALK AT MARKLY, SUSSEX.
 XII. 
SONNET XII. THE DISDAINED LOVER.
 XIII. 
SONNET XIII. THE WEAVER.
 XIV. 
SONNET XIV.
 XV. 
SONNET XV. TO MISS AUGUSTA COWELL.
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PRINCESS MARIE OF WIRTEMBURG.
 XVI. 
SONNET XVI.
 XVII. 
XVII.
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ON HEARING OF THE DEATH OF THE COUNTESS OF BURLINGTON.
 XVIII. 
SONNET XVIII.
 XIX. 
XIX.

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287

SONNET V.

Because I know that there is that in me
Of which thou shouldst be proud, and not ashamed,—
Because I feel once made thy choice should be
Not even by fools and slanderers rashly blamed,—
Because I fear, howe'er thy soul may strive
Against the weakness of that inward pain,
The falsehoods which my enemies contrive
Not always seek to wound thine ear in vain,—
Therefore I sometimes weep, when I should smile,
At all the vain frivolity and sin
Which those who know me not (yet me revile)—
My would-be judges—cast my actions in;
But else their malice hath nor sting nor smart—
For I appeal from them, Beloved, to thine own heart!
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