Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=117596" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>To My Cousin</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Come out with me into the moonlight, coz!<br>Fling by that page of romance—the hot breath<br>Of the dim taper, ill befits an eve<br>So beautiful as this—I know there is<br>A deep bewildering interest in that tale;<br>For the low drooping head, the parted lip,<br>The feverish glow that brightens cheek and eye,<br>And the light finger press'd upon the page,<br>As if that volume were the magic link<br>That bound thee to illusion—all proclaim<br>The spell that hath enchain'd thee. Yet come out,<br>And I will show thee full as bright a page,<br>And one where thou may'st read as wild a tale<br>Of love and chivalry, as that from which<br>My voice hath won thee.—Is it not, sweet coz,<br>A most delicious night? and how could I<br>Gaze upward on that moon, and thou not here—<br>Our arms entwining thus—and the light touch<br>Of those soft fingers resting upon mine,<br>That I may feel their gentle pressure tell<br>Thy voiceless feelings—when I turn to say<br>“How very beautiful!”—It is a night<br>For Poetry—and the low breeze comes by<br>As 't were a holy whisper, sent to quell<br>The spirit's fever.—We will fling aside<br>Like a dull robe the thought of present things,<br>And wrap ourselves in dreams.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And yet 't is not<br>A scene like that we gazed on when yon moon<br>Last moved, so empress-like, across the sky—<br>Nay, thou rememberest—I know it well<br>By the curl'd lip turn'd towards me with a smile<br>Of recollected pleasure: yet again<br>Look towards yon concave: other eyes than ours<br>Are gazing on that orb, and kindly lips<br>Perchance are naming us.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Did we not say<br>Yon planet should be written, like a book,<br>With cherish'd memories?—and when the hour<br>Of her arising came, that we would think<br>On those from whom we parted?—Look, Annette!<br>Couldst thou not fancy that a friendly eye<br>Was smiling on thee from the distant sphere?<br>Nay, laugh not, cousin,—'t was a silly thought!—<br>But who would fetter fancy's wildest wing</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Upon a night like this? The very light<br>That falls around us hath a dreamy spell,<br>And gives the scene a dim unreal shade,<br>Like a forgotten thought come back again.<br>It is most beautiful! yet on the heart<br>The sense of pleasure presses, with a weight<br>That half hath started tears—'t is strange that even<br>Our happiness should be so link'd with pain!<br>And beauty—perfect beauty—only wake<br>The knowledge that our spirits are too weak,<br>To feel it in its full deep blessedness!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Didst never wish to be an angel, coz?<br>That thou might understand the pencilling<br>Writ on the sunset sky—and send abroad<br>A soul unfetter'd on a night like this!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Well, let us wander on—did I not say<br>I knew a history of the olden time,<br>That I would tell to thee?—we should have been<br>Beneath our grape-vine bower—thou know'st it, love,<br>And I thine own true knight to sing thee,<br>While thou didst touch the lute—</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But 't is not so—<br>And while I tell the tale of which I spake,<br>If I can win from thee one gentle sigh,<br>I will not ask for music!—</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'T was a night<br>Moon-lit, and calm, and beautiful,—like this;<br>Music was swelling out, upon the breeze,<br>From a gay festive hall—and starry lamps<br>Flung out their perfumed splendour upon brows<br>Of alabaster whiteness, and dark hair<br>Enwreathed with dazzling gems: light forms went by<br>Graceful and fairy-like, amid the dance,<br>Beside a nation's chivalry—and songs<br>Melted away in liquid melody<br>From rosy lips, and the gay laugh broke forth;<br>Or, when the ancient minstrel breathed some tale<br>Of love and sadness, gentle tears fell forth<br>From eyes that shone more lovely through their mist<br>But there was one, had stolen from that scene<br>Of smiles and joyousness, to where the moon<br>Look'd downward, silently, through jasmine leaves,<br>And the low night-breeze kiss'd the drooping bells<br>Of the sweet clematis.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And there she stood—<br>Her head bent slightly back, and the long fringe<br>Of her dark melancholy eye raised up<br>And laid against her brow, as if her soul<br>Were lifted in that long deep glance to Heaven!<br>Her cheek was pale—so pale, that its faint tinge<br>Of lingering carmine scarce sufficed to tell<br>That the slight form, round which the white robes fell<br>So gracefully, was not in very deed<br>A sculptor's form of beauty—her dark hair<br>Was carelessly thrown backward, and her hand<br>Twisted among its tresses, look'd as 't were<br>A wandering moon-beam—'t was so delicate!<br>A deeper sadness gather'd on the brow,<br>The queenly brow, of that young worshipper,<br>Until it droop'd upon her breast, and tears<br>Came crowding to her eyelids. Could it be<br>That grief had paled a cheek so beautiful?<br>That gush of tears went by—and she raised up<br>Her forehead to the breeze, and touch'd the lute,<br>That lay beside her, to a mournful strain,<br>The while she sung to it:—</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“This faded cheek, this faded cheek,<br>Pale lip and alter'd brow,<br>Are all the outward signs that speak<br>The love I bear thee now.<br>I name thee not amid the halls,<br>Where mirthful glances shine;<br>But not one tear in secret falls,<br>That is not truly thine.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“They told me, that the vows we spake<br>Were soon forgot by thee;<br>But though my heart, perchance, may break,<br>'T will ne'er be false to thee.<br>Nor would'st thou, dearest, all so soon<br>That one deep vow forget,<br>The first, the last, the only one,<br>That told our hearts had met.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">”They told me thou wast false, that pride<br>Might dry my burning tears,<br>When I should learn that thou hadst died<br>Amid thine early years.<br>They did not know how deeply dear<br>Was every thought of thee,<br>More fondly, truly, cherish'd here,<br>Than living love could be.”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The strain was hush'd—A rustle midst the leaves<br>Hath caught the maiden's ear, and a low voice<br>Whisper'd the name of “Eva!” Could it be<br>That the dark grave had given up its dead?<br>Or was that breath a summons from the land<br>Of parted spirits? But a moment more,<br>And her own knight was kneeling at her feet—<br>Her head fell on his bosom—hours past on,<br>And when the gray dawn made a pause amid<br>The mirth of their gay revelling, they came<br>To seek that absent one,—and both were there,<br>Silent and motionless as they had sunk,<br>When the first shock was over—one in death,<br>And one in cold despair!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Elizabeth+Margaret+Chandler">Elizabeth Margaret Chandler</a> from <i>Poetical Works</i><div class=q>
<img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share">
<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=117596" data-title="To My Cousin de Elizabeth Margaret Chandler" data-description="Come out with me into the moonlight, coz!/Fling by that page of romance—the hot breath/Of the dim taper, ill befits an eve/So beautiful as this—I know there is/A deep bewildering interest in that tale;/For the low drooping head, the parted lip..."></div>
</div>
</div>