Anne Whitney




by Anne Whitney

I pledge you in a cup not overbrimming.
Though heirs to all, God knows our weak hearts best,
And tempts us gently from our downy nest,
To the wide air. Yon fresh horizon, dimming,
And tempering to our thought, the abysses gleaming
Beyond; eternity's severe, pure light
Soft prismed by time; and love, the infinite,
Through human founts intelligibly streaming,
Teach us that heaven withholdeth but to fill:
Grasping thou would'st lose all. Wait then and see,
In the old press of duty steadfast still,
How comes the unexpected god to thee;
How the wild Future, that now mocks thy clasp,
Lies trembling in the Present's nervous grasp.


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

Recommended Works

The Same (Twas then we said...) - Anne WhitneyThe Human Seasons - John KeatsO high-born souls, such as God sends to mould... - Anne WhitneyStoop low, dear Night, a little star-breeze wakes - Anne WhitneyTO G. A. W. - John KeatsExaggeration - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningTo one who has been long in city pent, ... - John KeatsTo The Same - Anne WhitneyTo Ailsa Rock - John KeatsThis pleasant tale is like a little copse: ... - John KeatsThe Prisoner - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningTo An Enthusiast - Thomas HoodO night, a terrible dismay still lurks... - Anne WhitneyDark rolling clouds in wild confusion driven... - Caroline Bowles SoutheyAlas! and yesternight I woke in terror, - Anne WhitneyAddressed To The Same - John KeatsFor The Fourteenth Of February - Thomas HoodPast And Future - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningThe Passion Flower - Anne WhitneyOf better fortune coming, then, talk not... - Anne WhitneyIf by dull rhymes our English must be chain'd ... - John KeatsKeats's Last Sonnet - John KeatsTo A Friend Who Sent Me Some Roses - John KeatsBereavement - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningAn Apprehension - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningOn Seeing The Elgin Marbles - John KeatsO Mankind's God! most silent and most lowly - Anne WhitneyWritten In The Cottage Where Burns Was Born - John KeatsThe day is gone, and all its sweets are gone! ... - John KeatsTo J. H. Reynolds - John KeatsTo _. (Time's sea hath been five years at its low ebb, ...) - John KeatsOn Sitting Down To Read King Lear Once Again. - John KeatsThree Flowers - Thomas Bailey AldrichSubstitution - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningI dreamed an angel, Angel twice, through death... - Anne WhitneyNo slight caprice rules thee. -- Who sounds one note... - Anne WhitneyTears - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningHow bravely Autumn paints upon the sky - Thomas HoodThe Meaning Of The Look - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningThe Look - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningIn the still hours, a stiller strength was born - Anne WhitneyYet are there sunbeams, though the kingly sun... - Anne WhitneyHappy is England! I could be content ... - John KeatsIt is not death, that sometime in a sigh... - Thomas HoodSonnet To A Sonnet - Thomas HoodTo The Ocean - Thomas HoodOn The Grasshopper And Cricket - John KeatsThe Seraph And Poet - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningTo The Nile - John KeatsO solitude! if I must with thee dwell, - John KeatsThe Two Sayings - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningOh! how I love, on a fair summer's eve, ... - John KeatsI know this spirit bridges unknown space... - Anne WhitneyAddressed To Haydon - John KeatsKeen Fitful Gusts Are Whispering Here And There - John KeatsPerplexed Music - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningO fair mistrust of earth's more solid shows... - Anne WhitneyContinence - Anne WhitneyFuturity - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningTo Homer - John KeatsTo My Brother George - John KeatsTo A Sleeping Child - Thomas HoodCheerfulness Taught By Reason - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningTo George Sand: A Recognition - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningRead me a lesson, Muse, and speak it loud - John KeatsConsolation - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningTo Sleep - John KeatsHow many bards gild the lapses of time! - John KeatsOn Fame (Fame, like a wayward girl, will still be coy ...). - John KeatsWithin my life another life runs deep, - Anne WhitneyA Thought For A Lonely Death-Bed - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningDiscontent - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningWhen I have fears that I may cease to be ... - John KeatsBy every sweet tradition of true hearts,... - Thomas HoodOn The Sea - John KeatsTo Haydon - John KeatsIrreparableness - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningFalse Poets And True - Thomas HoodGrief - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningOn Fame (How fever'd is the man, who cannot look ...) - John KeatsI cry your mercy -- pity -- love -- ay, love ... - John KeatsOn Leigh Hunt's Poem, The Story Of Rimini. - John KeatsAdequacy - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningThe Soul's Expression - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningAfter dark vapors have oppress'd our plains ... - John KeatsPatience Taught By Nature - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningOn Receiving A Gift - Thomas HoodWhy did I laugh to-night? - John KeatsThe world is with me, and its many cares... - Thomas HoodTo Kosciusko - John KeatsTo My Brother - John KeatsTo A Young Lady Who Sent Me A Laurel Crown. - John KeatsThou seem'st to solve the eternal unity... - Anne WhitneyWork And Contemplation - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningOn Leaving Some Friends At An Early Hour - John KeatsTo The Spirit - Anne WhitneyTo Fancy - Thomas HoodTo George Sand: A Desire - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningAnd for that thou art Beauty, and thy name... - Anne WhitneyComfort (Speak low to me, my Saviour, low and sweet ...) - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningSo reed-like fragile, in the world's whirl nought... - Anne WhitneyLear - Thomas HoodInsufficiency - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningOn A Picture Of Leander - John KeatsTo _. (Had I a man's fair form, then might my sighs ...) - John KeatsC. L'E. - Anne WhitneyOn First Looking Into Chapman's Homer - John KeatsNight - Anne WhitneyFrom all these mounds, though day blows fresh and warm, - Anne WhitneyLargess from seven-fold heavens, I pray, descend... - Anne WhitneyWork (What are we set on earth for? ...) - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningDarkness surrounds me with its phantom hosts... - Anne WhitneyOn A Dream - John KeatsPain In Pleasure - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningOn A Portrait Of Wordsworth - Elizabeth Barrett BrowningWritten On The Day That Mr. Leigh Hunt Left Prison - John KeatsAnswer To A Sonnet Ending Thus: -- - John KeatsTo ____. (My heart is sick with longing, though I feed) - Thomas HoodThe Same (Might we make quest ...) - Anne Whitney
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