Poems by Hartley Coleridge With a Memoir of his Life by his Brother. In Two Volumes |
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TO A LADY,
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 | Poems by Hartley Coleridge |  |
194
TO A LADY,
ON THE DEATH OF HER MOTHER AND DAUGHTER.
Sara,—so let me call thee, since that nameIs most familiar to thy friendly ear,
And for a mother that is now no more,
And for a sister passing dear to me—
Long time it seems since thou and I have spoke
In verse or honest prose, or, happier still,
With running comment of looks, lips, and eyes,
And silence, when our mutual thought was heard,
Discoursed by mute and secret sympathy,
Interpreted by some half-melting star,
That seemed a part of twilight, or akin
To the retiring, pensive, tawny hill,
So dim reflected in the dozing lake,
It wot not of its presence;—lake once proud
Of diamonds dripping from thy silvery oar,
When thou, thy boat, and its long-beaded wake,
Seem'd like the shadow of a Glendoveer,
Floating above in smallest skiff of heaven,—
195
Those times are past,—and I have known thee tamed
To sober womanhood and matron grave,
Yet like the ever-glad Hesperian tree,
Whose summer fruitage gleams through vernal flowers;
And I have seen thee, too, in double grief
For two pure souls removed, so like each other,
They may be playmates in the bowers of bliss,—
For souls like theirs receive no taint of time.
And who can doubt that each fine faculty,
But half-developed in the prophet spring
Of thy sweet Katherine's little life, shall bloom
In God's own light, consummate and fulfilled?
[OMITTED]
| Poems by Hartley Coleridge | |