Anne Whitney



O night, a terrible dismay still lurks...

by Anne Whitney

O night, a terrible dismay still lurks
In thy close caves. Is there another grief
Than mine upon my soul, or spectral leaf
In the great record of the years, where works,
Not dreams, find place -- a task declined
Which the wise heavens appointed for my own
Nay, or a haunting memory to strike down
The future's open hand; -- then, down the wind
With sadly human eyes, but fanged like wolves,
The pale Erinnyes sweep. O happy, then,
If I with night-long prayer may win again
Lost faith -- faith in Eternity that solves
Time's stoniest spectres -- faith in the broad
Serenity of things -- yes, faith in the good God!


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

Recommended Works

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