Last Verses E-Book

Susan Coolidge

• Herausgeber: DigiCat
• Kategorie: Geisteswissenschaft
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

Susan Coolidge's 'Last Verses' is a collection of poignant poetry that delves into the complexities of life, love, and loss. Written in an eloquent and emotive style, Coolidge's verses radiate emotional depth and introspection. The verses explore themes of mortality, nature, and the passage of time, offering readers a glimpse into the author's innermost thoughts and feelings. Coolidge's captivating use of language and imagery creates a vivid and immersive reading experience that will resonate with poetry enthusiasts and literary connoisseurs alike. Set against the backdrop of the late 19th century, 'Last Verses' reflects the Victorian era's preoccupation with sentimentality and introspection, making it a valuable contribution to the era's literary landscape. Susan Coolidge's personal experiences and observations deeply influenced her writing, infusing her poetry with a sense of authenticity and emotional resonance. Her profound understanding of human emotions and her keen insight into the human condition shine through in 'Last Verses', making it a timeless and thought-provoking collection. Fans of classic poetry and thought-provoking literature will undoubtedly find 'Last Verses' a compelling and rewarding read, offering a glimpse into the mind of a talented and introspective poet.

Leseprobe

Susan Coolidge

Last Verses

 

EAN 8596547362449

DigiCat, 2022 Contact: [email protected]

Table of Contents

HELEN KELLER

“A CLOUD OF WITNESSES”

COR CORDIUM

MARTHA

CAEN 1894

TEMPERAMENTS

THE HOLY NAME

“I AM THE WAY”

HER HEART WAS LIKE A GENEROUS FIRE (S. P. C.)

THE LEGEND OF THE ALMOST SAVED FROM THE RUSSIAN

TWO ANGELS

LIMITATION

THE MIRACLE OF FRIENDSHIP

ROSE TERRY COOKE

INTO THE DEEP

THROUGH THE CLOUD

NEARER HOME

ROOTED

THE BURIED STATUE

FAR AND NEAR

GREECE

IF YOUTH COULD KNOW

THE SOUL’S CLIMATE

THE BETTER PRAYER

SUPPLY

A THOUGHT

HOLGER DANSKE

VASSOS

MUTINY

UNFORGOTTEN

DENIAL

ASTORIA BY TWILIGHT

THE PRICE OF FREYA

A SUMMER SONG

AN EVENING PRIMROSE

A ROSE IN A GLASS

SNOWBOUND

SHELTERED

THE OLD PINE

IN THE FOREFRONT

INTERRUPTED

SAINT CHRISTOPHER

CONQUEROR J. S. W.

THE YEAR AND THE CENTURY

A. V. C. [ June, 1898 ]

“THE LAND THAT IS VERY FAR OFF”

THE HEAVENLY AIRS

IN THE FOG

THE PORCH OF LIFE

THE LIGHTHOUSE

ONCE AND FOREVER

LIGHTS

ON THE LAWN

IF ONLY

PRELUDE

WHOM NO MAN HATH HIRED

ON EASTER EVEN

PALM SUNDAY

THE PASCHAL FEAST

A NEW YEAR PRAYER

HOW SHALL I PRAY?

GOOD-NIGHT

A SPRING PARABLE

“THY RIGHTEOUSNESS IS LIKE THE STRONG MOUNTAINS”

LIVING OR DEAD

A MORNING SONG

THE STONE OF THE SEPULCHRE

TOO LITTLE AND TOO MUCH

THE MESSENGER WITH THE BOW-STRING

RELEASED

A PARADISE SONG

LITTLE BY LITTLE

TWO YEARS

TEMPERED

VIRGINIA

LIFT UP YOUR HEARTS

HELEN KELLER

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BEHIND her triple prison-bars shut in

She sits, the whitest soul on earth to-day.

No shadowing stain, no whispered hint of sin,

Into that sanctuary finds the way.

There enters only clear and proven truth

Apportioned for her use by loving hands

And winnowed from all knowledge of all lands

To satisfy her ardent thirst of youth.

Like a strange alabaster mask her face,

Rayless and sightless, set in patience dumb,

Until like quick electric currents come

The signals of life into her lonely place;

Then, like a lamp just lit, an inward gleam

Flashes within the mask’s opacity,

The features glow and dimple suddenly,

And fun and tenderness and sparkle seem

To irradiate the lines once dull and blind,

While the white slender fingers reach and cling

With quick imploring gestures, questioning

The mysteries and the meanings:—to her mind

The world is not the sordid world we know;

It is a happy and benignant spot

Where kindness reigns, and jealousy is not,

And men move softly, dropping as they go

The golden fruit of knowledge for all to share.

And Love is King, and Heaven is very near,

And God to whom each separate soul is dear

Makes fatherly answer to each whispered prayer.

Ah, little stainless soul, shut in so close,

May never hint of doubt creep in to be

A shadow on the calm security

Which wraps thee, as its fragrance wraps a rose.

“A CLOUD OF WITNESSES”

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ON Calais sands the breakers roar

In fierce and foaming track;

The screaming sea-gulls dip and soar,

White seen against the black;

And shuddering wind and furling sail

Are making ready for the gale.

Ho, keeper of the Calais Light!

See that your lamps burn free;

For, if they should go out to-night,

There will be wrecks at sea.

Fill them and trim them with due care,

For there is tempest in the air.

“Go out? My lamps go out, you say?

What words are on your lips?

There, in the offing far away,

Are sailing countless ships,

Beyond my ken, beyond my sight,

But all are watching Calais Light.

“If but a single lamp should fail,

A single flame burn dim,

How could they ride the gathering gale,

Or justly steer and trim?

To right, to left, would equal be,

There are no road-marks in the sea.

“I should not hear their drowning cry,

Or see the ship go down,

And weeks and months might pass us by,

Ere came to Calais town

The word—‘A ship was lost one night,

And all for want of Calais Light.’

“Here in my tower, my lamps in row,

I sit the long hours through;

There is no soul to mark or know

If I my duty do;

Yet oftentimes I seem to see

A world of eyes all bent on me!

“Go out! My lamps go out! alas!

It were a woeful day

If ever it should come to pass

That I must live to say,

A ship went down in storm and night,

Because there failed it Calais Light.”

Ah, Christian, in your watch-tower set,

Fill all your lamps and trim;

For though there seem no watchers, yet

Far in the darkness dim,

Where souls are tossing out of view,

A hundred eyes are fixed on you!

COR CORDIUM

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ALL diamonded with glittering stars

The vast blue arch of air;

Pent in behind these mortal bars

We strain our eyes to where,

Oh noblest heart, thou walkest apart

Amid thy heavenly kin.

Though blinded with the veils of sense,

We may not look within.

Oh eyes so tender with command!

Oh eloquent lips and true,

Whose speech fell like a quickening fire,

Fell like a healing dew!

Oh zeal so strong to right the wrong,

Oh rich, abounding heart!

Oh stintless, tireless, kindest hand,—

God bless thee where thou art!

Not thine the common fate to live

Through life’s long weary days,

And give all that thou had’st to give

Uncheered by love and praise.

Men did not wait to call thee great

Till death had sealed thy brow.

They crowned thy living head with bays;

What does it matter now?

Thy grave mound is a shrinèd place,

Where pilgrim hearts may go,

With loving thoughts and thankful prayers,

Soft passing to and fro.

Seldom with word the air is stirred,

Seldom with sob or sigh;

All silently and ceaselessly

The march of hearts goes by.

Now half our lives seems lived on earth,

And half in heaven with thee.

Our heart-beats measure out the road

To where we fain would be,—

Beyond this strife of mortal life,

This lonely ache and pain,

Where we who miss and mourn thee so

May find thee once again.

MARTHA

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HOT on the pavement burns the summer sun,

In the deep shadow of the ilex tree

The Master rests, while gathering one by one

The neighbors enter, crowding silently

To hear His words, which drop like honey-dew;

I may not hear, there is too much to do.

How can I pause? I seem the only one

To take a thought about this multitude

Who, the day past and all the preaching done,

Will need to be refreshed with wine and food;

We cannot send the people home unfed—

What words were those? “I am the living bread.”

There is my sister sitting the day long

Close to His side, serene and free from care,

Helping me not; and surely it is wrong

To leave to me the task that she should share.

Master, rebuke her, just and true Thou art—

What do I hear? “She hath the better part.”

If all chose thus then all would go unfed—

Souls hunger, yes! but bodies have their need.

Some one must grind and mix the daily bread,

Some one wake early that the rest may feed,

Some one bear burdens, face the summer sun—

But must I always, always be the one?

“Cumbered with serving,” thus the Master spake;

But ’twas to serve Him that I worked so hard

(And I would serve the year long for His sake).

I dare not take the rest which is reward

Lest He should suffer while I stay my hand.

How hard it is, how hard to understand!

What does a voice say? “He whose power divine

Could feed the thousands on the mountain side

Needeth no fretting, puny aid like thine.

One thing is needful, trust him to provide;

The Heavenly Chance comes once nor tarries long”—

Master, forgive me, teach me, I was wrong!

CAEN1894

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IN the quaint Norman city, far apart,

A width of humming distance set between,

They rest who once lived closely heart to heart,

William the conquering Duke and his fair Queen.

Too near of kin to wed, the Church averred,

And barred the way which joy was fain to tread;

But hearts spoke louder than the priestly word,

And youth and love o’erleaped the barrier dread.

No will of wax had England’s future King;

With iron hand he brushed the curse aside,

As ’twere a slight and disregarded thing,

And asking leave of no man, claimed his bride.

And they were happy, spite of ban and blame,

Rich in renown, estate, in valiant deed;

And the sweet Duchess at her broidery frame

Wrought her lord’s victories for all men to read.