https://sonett.fontane-place.de/ Sun, 28 Jun 2026 07:01:55 +0000 MyBB https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17431 Sun, 28 Oct 2007 11:27:08 +0100 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17431
IN the dim watches of the midmost night
A ghost confronts him, standing by his bed,
A lonesome ghost who walks uncomforted,
Pale child of Memory and dead Delight
No longer fair or pleasant in his sight.
With dusky hair upon her shoulders shed,
And cypress leaves for garland on her head,
As patient as the moonlight and as white,
She stands beside him and puts forth her hand
To lead him backward into Love's lost Land
Sad Land which shadows people, and where wait
Memory, her sire, and dead Delight, his mate
And standing there among the shadowy band
He learns how Love mocks him who loves too late.]]>
IN the dim watches of the midmost night
A ghost confronts him, standing by his bed,
A lonesome ghost who walks uncomforted,
Pale child of Memory and dead Delight
No longer fair or pleasant in his sight.
With dusky hair upon her shoulders shed,
And cypress leaves for garland on her head,
As patient as the moonlight and as white,
She stands beside him and puts forth her hand
To lead him backward into Love's lost Land
Sad Land which shadows people, and where wait
Memory, her sire, and dead Delight, his mate
And standing there among the shadowy band
He learns how Love mocks him who loves too late.]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=15636 Thu, 21 Jun 2007 21:35:17 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=15636
ONCE more the Morning mocks me with its scorn,
The Sun derides me with its radiant face,
Since you vouchsafe no word from your far place,
And, lacking you, there is no joy of morn.
Did you but speak, my heart would be new-born,
And I—alive again, through that dear grace
Of love, that scoffs at time and conquers space—
Could laugh at those who call my fate forlorn.
Why are you silent? Does your heart forget,
In the proud affluence of joys untold,
Old ways, old words that I remember yet
And treasure, as a miser counts his gold?
Is it that your far ear I cannot reach—
Or am I, earth-enslaved, deaf to Heaven's speech?]]>
ONCE more the Morning mocks me with its scorn,
The Sun derides me with its radiant face,
Since you vouchsafe no word from your far place,
And, lacking you, there is no joy of morn.
Did you but speak, my heart would be new-born,
And I—alive again, through that dear grace
Of love, that scoffs at time and conquers space—
Could laugh at those who call my fate forlorn.
Why are you silent? Does your heart forget,
In the proud affluence of joys untold,
Old ways, old words that I remember yet
And treasure, as a miser counts his gold?
Is it that your far ear I cannot reach—
Or am I, earth-enslaved, deaf to Heaven's speech?]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=15635 Thu, 21 Jun 2007 21:34:06 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=15635
WHY do I never see you in my dreams?
The lips are cold that you no longer kiss;
And missing you, the Universe I miss.
The far stars lure me with evasive gleams,
But no new Joy the dead Past's pledge redeems.
Though you have found a larger world than this,
Can you not spare one hour from that wide bliss?
Why do I never see you in my dreams?
One little touch, and I should know you near,—
One whispered word would wake my soul from sleep,
And all I thought was dead, alive would be,
Saved from the blank forgetfulness I fear,—
Immortal then your image I could keep,
If once, just once, you would come back to me.]]>
WHY do I never see you in my dreams?
The lips are cold that you no longer kiss;
And missing you, the Universe I miss.
The far stars lure me with evasive gleams,
But no new Joy the dead Past's pledge redeems.
Though you have found a larger world than this,
Can you not spare one hour from that wide bliss?
Why do I never see you in my dreams?
One little touch, and I should know you near,—
One whispered word would wake my soul from sleep,
And all I thought was dead, alive would be,
Saved from the blank forgetfulness I fear,—
Immortal then your image I could keep,
If once, just once, you would come back to me.]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=15634 Thu, 21 Jun 2007 21:32:56 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=15634 On her Eighty-seventh Birthday, May 27, 1907.

YOUTH is thy gift—the youth that baffles Time,
And smiles derisively at vanished years.
Since the long past the present more endears,
And life but ripens in its golden prime,
Who knows to what proud heights thou still may'st climb—
What summoning call thy listening spirit hears—
What triumphs wait, ere conquering death appears—
What magic beauty thou may'st lend to rhyme?
Sovereign of Love and May, we kiss the hand
Such noble work has wrought, and add our bays
To those with which the world has crowned thy brow:
Thy subjects we, in this the happy land,
Thy presence gladdens, and thy gracious ways
Enchant—Queen of the Long-Ago and Now.]]> On her Eighty-seventh Birthday, May 27, 1907.

YOUTH is thy gift—the youth that baffles Time,
And smiles derisively at vanished years.
Since the long past the present more endears,
And life but ripens in its golden prime,
Who knows to what proud heights thou still may'st climb—
What summoning call thy listening spirit hears—
What triumphs wait, ere conquering death appears—
What magic beauty thou may'st lend to rhyme?
Sovereign of Love and May, we kiss the hand
Such noble work has wrought, and add our bays
To those with which the world has crowned thy brow:
Thy subjects we, in this the happy land,
Thy presence gladdens, and thy gracious ways
Enchant—Queen of the Long-Ago and Now.]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=15633 Thu, 21 Jun 2007 21:31:59 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=15633 FOR M. E. S.

TWO thrushes met upon an April day,
And sang a simple song of love and glee:
. . . "And I am I, dear heart, and you are she
Whose tender note beguiled me on my way!"
They did not heed that all the sky was gray,
And not a neighbor leaf on any tree—
Two thrushes met upon an April day,
And sang a simple song of love and glee.
They did not miss the brightness of the May,
Or long the Summer's lavish wealth to see.
"April," he chirped, "is fair enough for me,
And when you sing, lo, Spring is on the way"—
Two thrushes met upon an April day,
And sang a simple song of love and glee.]]> FOR M. E. S.

TWO thrushes met upon an April day,
And sang a simple song of love and glee:
. . . "And I am I, dear heart, and you are she
Whose tender note beguiled me on my way!"
They did not heed that all the sky was gray,
And not a neighbor leaf on any tree—
Two thrushes met upon an April day,
And sang a simple song of love and glee.
They did not miss the brightness of the May,
Or long the Summer's lavish wealth to see.
"April," he chirped, "is fair enough for me,
And when you sing, lo, Spring is on the way"—
Two thrushes met upon an April day,
And sang a simple song of love and glee.]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=15632 Thu, 21 Jun 2007 21:30:49 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=15632
FAIR Lady, you were clad in white
When first your gentle eyes I met,
And never shall my heart forget
The vision of that August night.
With the pale moon's transcendent light,
You shone, in your clear heaven set;
Fair Lady, you were clad in white
When first your gentle eyes I met.
Bend, Moon of Women, from your height,
Soothe with your smile earth's care and fret,
Let us be happy in your debt,
Since you Love's varied charms unite;
Your soul and you were clad in white
When first your gentle eyes I met.]]>
FAIR Lady, you were clad in white
When first your gentle eyes I met,
And never shall my heart forget
The vision of that August night.
With the pale moon's transcendent light,
You shone, in your clear heaven set;
Fair Lady, you were clad in white
When first your gentle eyes I met.
Bend, Moon of Women, from your height,
Soothe with your smile earth's care and fret,
Let us be happy in your debt,
Since you Love's varied charms unite;
Your soul and you were clad in white
When first your gentle eyes I met.]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=15631 Thu, 21 Jun 2007 21:30:06 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=15631
ROSAMOND gave me a rose,
Rose-red and alive in the sun:
Ah, what was its secret? Who knows?—
Her garden held only that one.
Now alive in my heart it glows;
By its magic my peace is undone—
There are spells that the wise should shun—
Rosamond gave me a rose.
But where is my old repose?
She calls—to her feet I run:
Oh, who shall the secret disclose?
Or how was my bondage begun?—
Rosamond gave me a rose,
Rose-red and alive in the sun.]]>
ROSAMOND gave me a rose,
Rose-red and alive in the sun:
Ah, what was its secret? Who knows?—
Her garden held only that one.
Now alive in my heart it glows;
By its magic my peace is undone—
There are spells that the wise should shun—
Rosamond gave me a rose.
But where is my old repose?
She calls—to her feet I run:
Oh, who shall the secret disclose?
Or how was my bondage begun?—
Rosamond gave me a rose,
Rose-red and alive in the sun.]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=15630 Thu, 21 Jun 2007 21:29:24 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=15630
FAIR, ruthless Ghost, I know you well!
High poets praised you with their lays,
Yet could not half your beauty tell;
So, now, your loveliness dismays
My rhyme, and mocks my poor essays
To hint, in words, its magic spell.
Ah, witching Queen, strange woes befell
The bards who served you in old days!
Sweet, ruthless Ghost, their songs of praise
Like warning music with me dwell,
And bid me to beware your plays
With love and death—your charm repel.
You smile again! that smile betrays
Hearts still are playthings: Fare you well.]]>
FAIR, ruthless Ghost, I know you well!
High poets praised you with their lays,
Yet could not half your beauty tell;
So, now, your loveliness dismays
My rhyme, and mocks my poor essays
To hint, in words, its magic spell.
Ah, witching Queen, strange woes befell
The bards who served you in old days!
Sweet, ruthless Ghost, their songs of praise
Like warning music with me dwell,
And bid me to beware your plays
With love and death—your charm repel.
You smile again! that smile betrays
Hearts still are playthings: Fare you well.]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=15629 Thu, 21 Jun 2007 21:28:46 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=15629
I FEEL the kindness of the lengthening days—
I warm me at the strong fire of the sun—
I know the year's glad course is well begun—
Ah, what awaits me in its devious ways?
What strange, new bliss shall thrill me with amaze?
What prize shall I rejoice that I have won?
I feel the kindness of the lengthening days—
I warm me at the strong fire of the sun.
Yet I behold the phantom that dismays—
The face of Grief that spares not any one—
Rewards come not until the task is done,
And there are minor chords in all earth's lays;—
Nay! Trust the kindness of the lengthening days—
I'll warm me at the strong fires of the sun.]]>
I FEEL the kindness of the lengthening days—
I warm me at the strong fire of the sun—
I know the year's glad course is well begun—
Ah, what awaits me in its devious ways?
What strange, new bliss shall thrill me with amaze?
What prize shall I rejoice that I have won?
I feel the kindness of the lengthening days—
I warm me at the strong fire of the sun.
Yet I behold the phantom that dismays—
The face of Grief that spares not any one—
Rewards come not until the task is done,
And there are minor chords in all earth's lays;—
Nay! Trust the kindness of the lengthening days—
I'll warm me at the strong fires of the sun.]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=15628 Thu, 21 Jun 2007 21:27:55 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=15628
THOUGH we repent, can any God give back
The dear, lost days we might have made so fair—
Turn false to true, and carelessness to care
And let us find again what now we lack?
Oh, once, once more to tread the old-time track,
The flowers we threw away once more to wear—
Though we repent, can any God give back
The dear, lost days we might have made so fair?
Who can repulse a stealthy ghost's attack—
Silence a voice that doth the midnight dare—
Make fresh hopes spring from grave-sod of despair—
Set free a tortured soul from memory's rack?
Though we repent, can any God give back
The dear, lost days we might have made so fair?]]>
THOUGH we repent, can any God give back
The dear, lost days we might have made so fair—
Turn false to true, and carelessness to care
And let us find again what now we lack?
Oh, once, once more to tread the old-time track,
The flowers we threw away once more to wear—
Though we repent, can any God give back
The dear, lost days we might have made so fair?
Who can repulse a stealthy ghost's attack—
Silence a voice that doth the midnight dare—
Make fresh hopes spring from grave-sod of despair—
Set free a tortured soul from memory's rack?
Though we repent, can any God give back
The dear, lost days we might have made so fair?]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=15627 Thu, 21 Jun 2007 21:27:17 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=15627
O VAGRANT Love! do you come this way?
I hear you knock at the long-closed door
That turned too oft on its hinge before—
I am stronger now; I can say you Nay.
The vague, sweet smile on your lips to-day,
Its meaning and magic I know of yore:
O vagrant Love, do you come this way?
I hear your knock at the long-closed door.
But why your summons should I obey?
I listened once till my heart grew sore—
Shall I listen again, and again deplore?
Nay! Autumn must ever be wiser than May—
And the more we welcome the more you betray—
O vagrant Love, would you come this way?]]>
O VAGRANT Love! do you come this way?
I hear you knock at the long-closed door
That turned too oft on its hinge before—
I am stronger now; I can say you Nay.
The vague, sweet smile on your lips to-day,
Its meaning and magic I know of yore:
O vagrant Love, do you come this way?
I hear your knock at the long-closed door.
But why your summons should I obey?
I listened once till my heart grew sore—
Shall I listen again, and again deplore?
Nay! Autumn must ever be wiser than May—
And the more we welcome the more you betray—
O vagrant Love, would you come this way?]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=15626 Thu, 21 Jun 2007 21:26:42 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=15626 TO MY MOTHER.

SOMETIMES it seems thy face—thy long-hid face—
Looks out on me as from a passing cloud,
Till I forget they clad thee in thy shroud,
And laid thee sleeping in thy far-off place—
So once again the tender, healing grace
Of thy dear presence is to me allowed.
Wilt thou not bless the head before thee bowed?
Wilt not thy voice thrill through the empty space?
How lone and cold the world without thee seemed!
Regaining thee, how warm it is and bright!
Yet all in vain to reach thee do I seek:—
And then I wake to know I have but dreamed,
And thou art silent as the silent night—
With tears I call thee, yet thou dost not speak.]]> TO MY MOTHER.

SOMETIMES it seems thy face—thy long-hid face—
Looks out on me as from a passing cloud,
Till I forget they clad thee in thy shroud,
And laid thee sleeping in thy far-off place—
So once again the tender, healing grace
Of thy dear presence is to me allowed.
Wilt thou not bless the head before thee bowed?
Wilt not thy voice thrill through the empty space?
How lone and cold the world without thee seemed!
Regaining thee, how warm it is and bright!
Yet all in vain to reach thee do I seek:—
And then I wake to know I have but dreamed,
And thou art silent as the silent night—
With tears I call thee, yet thou dost not speak.]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=15625 Thu, 21 Jun 2007 21:26:10 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=15625 But life is short; so gently close the gate.

WINIFRED HOWELLS.

THUS wrote she when the heart in her was high,
And her brief tale of youth seemed just begun.
Like some white flower that shivers in the sun
She heard from far the low winds prophesy—
Blowing across the grave where she must lie—
Had strange prevision of the victory won
In the swift race that Life with Death should run,
And, hand in hand with Life, saw Death draw nigh.
Beyond this world the hostile surges foam:
Our eyes are dim with tears and cannot see
In what fair paths her feet our coming wait,
What stars rise for her in her far new home:—
We but conjecture all she yet may be,
While on the Joy she was, we close the gate.]]> But life is short; so gently close the gate.

WINIFRED HOWELLS.

THUS wrote she when the heart in her was high,
And her brief tale of youth seemed just begun.
Like some white flower that shivers in the sun
She heard from far the low winds prophesy—
Blowing across the grave where she must lie—
Had strange prevision of the victory won
In the swift race that Life with Death should run,
And, hand in hand with Life, saw Death draw nigh.
Beyond this world the hostile surges foam:
Our eyes are dim with tears and cannot see
In what fair paths her feet our coming wait,
What stars rise for her in her far new home:—
We but conjecture all she yet may be,
While on the Joy she was, we close the gate.]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=15624 Thu, 21 Jun 2007 21:25:15 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=15624 AUTHOR OF "GARDEN SECRETS."

HE, who those secrets whispered—he is dead—
No more the rose and lily shall confide
To him how faithless was the Wind that sighed
With fleeting love, rifled their bloom and fled;
The "Garden Fairies," by Titania led,
Ring no more chimes of rapture since he died;
And from unseen "Wind Gardens," where abide
The souls of blossoms, no sweet breath is shed.
His flowers and he have vanished: yet, who knows
Through what fair fields unwitnessed of the sun
He wanders, among blossoms red and white,
Fostered of Joy—where never chill blast blows,
And the glad year is always just begun?—
Nor Time, nor Death, immoral youth can blight.]]> AUTHOR OF "GARDEN SECRETS."

HE, who those secrets whispered—he is dead—
No more the rose and lily shall confide
To him how faithless was the Wind that sighed
With fleeting love, rifled their bloom and fled;
The "Garden Fairies," by Titania led,
Ring no more chimes of rapture since he died;
And from unseen "Wind Gardens," where abide
The souls of blossoms, no sweet breath is shed.
His flowers and he have vanished: yet, who knows
Through what fair fields unwitnessed of the sun
He wanders, among blossoms red and white,
Fostered of Joy—where never chill blast blows,
And the glad year is always just begun?—
Nor Time, nor Death, immoral youth can blight.]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=15623 Thu, 21 Jun 2007 21:24:25 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=15623
HE was at home in Courts and knew the great,
Himself was of them. Ofttimes Kings have sent
To call him to their presence; and he went,
A welcome guest, to share their royal state,
For earth's high potentates a fitting mate.
He was of all men honored—crowned of Song,
And crowned of Love—and high above the wrong
Of envy, or the littleness of hate.
And now the mightiest King—to summon him
To that far place whereto all souls must come—
Has sent swift Azrael, Heaven's chamberlain,—
Beyond the ultimate sea's remotest rim,
Where all the voices of this earth are dumb,
The Courtier journeys—called to Court again.]]>
HE was at home in Courts and knew the great,
Himself was of them. Ofttimes Kings have sent
To call him to their presence; and he went,
A welcome guest, to share their royal state,
For earth's high potentates a fitting mate.
He was of all men honored—crowned of Song,
And crowned of Love—and high above the wrong
Of envy, or the littleness of hate.
And now the mightiest King—to summon him
To that far place whereto all souls must come—
Has sent swift Azrael, Heaven's chamberlain,—
Beyond the ultimate sea's remotest rim,
Where all the voices of this earth are dumb,
The Courtier journeys—called to Court again.]]>