Poems by Frances Anne Kemble
Farewell To Italy
... Breathes from thy coast, and fills my parting sail ...
To Shakespeare (III)
... And turned from want's grim ways my tottering feet, ...
Absence
... Through these long hours, nor call their minutes pains ...
On A Music Box
... Say, dost thou think, sometimes when thou art singing, ...
The Death-Song
... And longing love, like a wrapping flame, ...
An Invitation
... Could call his own, th' unearthly breeze shall fan ...
Ode
... Small crisping waves lift themselves up and break Along the laurelled shore ...
To Emilia Lovatelli,
... WEEPING BY SHELLEY'S GRAVE IN THE PROTESTANT CEMETERY OF ROME ...
Sonnet. "By jasper founts, whose falling waters make"
... Through whose dark screen no prying sunbeams break: ...
Sonnet To Mrs. Jameson,
... WHO WROTE UNDER MY LIKENESS AS JULIET, "LIETI GIORNI E FELICE ...
Sonnet. "Art thou already weary of the way?"
... There cease the trees to shade, the flowers to spring, ...
To The Spring
... Hail to thee! as thou ridest through the skies, ...
The Ideal
... Thou may'st possess itLove shall make the dream, ...
Sonnet. "What is my lady like? thou fain wouldst know"
... Like a sharp axe of doom, wreathed with blush roses, ...
