Anne Whitney



C. L'E.

by Anne Whitney

I dwelt content with God and loving all,
In those first years; but ere long, something strove
Within --and, Fame, I thought, is larger love;
And love of fame, in every noble soul,
Is love of love; -- and, though I missed the goal,
I could but see how, quite beyond our wills,
Some pure and deep Intelligence fulfils
Our longings in its own deep way. -- My shoal
God centred in a starred, unfathomed well;
The world might roar at will; 'twas charity
Merely to let it go; around me fell
Surpassing sun and air; and for earth's free,
Broad paths were slight, restraining arms so pale,
And endless kisses by the yearning sea.


Copyright 1859
346 & 348 Broadway
D. Appleton & Company
New York

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Substitution - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningHow many bards gild the lapses of time! - John KeatsThe Meaning Of The Look - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningThe day is gone, and all its sweets are gone! ... - John KeatsExaggeration - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningTo _. (Time's sea hath been five years at its low ebb, ...) - John KeatsTo Kosciusko - John KeatsO night, a terrible dismay still lurks... - Anne WhitneyTo The Ocean - Thomas HoodNight - Anne WhitneyTo Ailsa Rock - John KeatsTo My Brother - John KeatsWhy did I laugh to-night? - John KeatsFor The Fourteenth Of February - Thomas HoodO fair mistrust of earth's more solid shows... - Anne WhitneyIn the still hours, a stiller strength was born - Anne WhitneyThe Two Sayings - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningI dreamed an angel, Angel twice, through death... - Anne WhitneyI know this spirit bridges unknown space... - Anne WhitneyThe Look - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningOn The Grasshopper And Cricket - John KeatsOn Sitting Down To Read King Lear Once Again. - John KeatsThe Passion Flower - Anne WhitneyO high-born souls, such as God sends to mould... - Anne WhitneyTo A Young Lady Who Sent Me A Laurel Crown. - John KeatsWork And Contemplation - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningOn Seeing The Elgin Marbles - John KeatsComfort (Speak low to me, my Saviour, low and sweet ...) - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningTo The Spirit - Anne WhitneySonnet To A Sonnet - Thomas HoodWritten On The Day That Mr. Leigh Hunt Left Prison - John KeatsTo ____. (My heart is sick with longing, though I feed) - Thomas HoodWithin my life another life runs deep, - Anne WhitneyHow bravely Autumn paints upon the sky - Thomas HoodOn A Portrait Of Wordsworth - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningIf by dull rhymes our English must be chain'd ... - John KeatsRead me a lesson, Muse, and speak it loud - John KeatsOn First Looking Into Chapman's Homer - John KeatsFrom all these mounds, though day blows fresh and warm, - Anne WhitneyTo Homer - John KeatsThe Same (Might we make quest ...) - Anne WhitneyThe Seraph And Poet - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningWork (What are we set on earth for? ...) - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningTO G. A. W. - John KeatsTo Sleep - John KeatsOh! how I love, on a fair summer's eve, ... - John KeatsThree Flowers - Thomas Bailey AldrichOn Fame (How fever'd is the man, who cannot look ...) - John KeatsAddressed To The Same - John KeatsDarkness surrounds me with its phantom hosts... - Anne WhitneyOn Leigh Hunt's Poem, The Story Of Rimini. - John KeatsPain In Pleasure - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningIt is not death, that sometime in a sigh... - Thomas HoodAlas! and yesternight I woke in terror, - Anne WhitneyHappy is England! I could be content ... - John KeatsTo A Friend Who Sent Me Some Roses - John KeatsAfter dark vapors have oppress'd our plains ... - John KeatsPast And Future - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningTears - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningDiscontent - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningPatience Taught By Nature - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningTo An Enthusiast - Thomas HoodSo reed-like fragile, in the world's whirl nought... - Anne WhitneyC. L'E. - Anne WhitneyNo slight caprice rules thee. -- Who sounds one note... - Anne WhitneyFalse Poets And True - Thomas HoodWhen I have fears that I may cease to be ... - John KeatsAn Apprehension - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningTo George Sand: A Desire - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningLear - Thomas HoodOn Receiving A Gift - Thomas HoodAnswer To A Sonnet Ending Thus: -- - John KeatsTo J. H. 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