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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=354001" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Creole Girl; Or, The Physician’s Story</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">SHE came to England from the island clime <br>Which lies beyond the far Atlantic wave; <br>She died in early youth--before her time-- <br>'Peace to her broken heart, and virgin grave!' <br>II.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She was the child of Passion, and of Shame, <br>English her father, and of noble birth; <br>Though too obscure for good or evil fame, <br>Her unknown mother faded from the earth. <br>III.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And what that fair West Indian did betide, <br>None knew but he, who least of all might tell,-- <br>But that she lived, and loved, and lonely died, <br>And sent this orphan child with him to dwell. <br>IV.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh! that a fair and innocent young face <br>Should have a poison in its looks alone, <br>To raise up thoughts of sorrow and disgrace <br>And shame most bitter, although not its own! <br>V.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Cruel were they who flung that heavy shade <br>Across the life whose days did but begin; <br>Cruel were they who crush'd her heart, and made <br>Her youth pay penance for his youth's wild sin; <br>VI.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet so it was;--among her father's friends <br>A cold compassion made contempt seem light, <br>But, in 'the world,' no justice e'er defends <br>The victims of their tortuous wrong and right:-- <br>VII.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And 'moral England,' striking down the weak, <br>And smiling at the vices of the strong, <br>On her, poor child! her parent's guilt would wreak, <br>And that which was her grievance, made her wrong. <br>VIII.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The world she understood not; nor did they <br>Who made that world,--her, either, understand; <br>The very glory of her features' play <br>Seem'd like the language of a foreign land; <br>IX.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The shadowy feelings, rich and wild and warm, <br>That glow'd and mantled in her lovely face,-- <br>The slight full beauty of her youthful form, <br>Its gentle majesty, its pliant grace,-- <br>X.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The languid lustre of her speaking eye, <br>The indolent smile of that bewitching mouth, <br>(Which more than all betray'd her natal sky, <br>And left us dreaming of the sunny South,)-- <br>XI.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The passionate variation of her blood, <br>Which rose and sank, as rise and sink the waves, <br>With every change of her most changeful mood, <br>Shock'd sickly Fashion's pale and guarded slaves. <br>XII.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And so in this fair world she stood alone, <br>An alien 'mid the ever-moving crowd, <br>A wandering stranger, nameless and unknown, <br>Her claim to human kindness disallow'd. <br>XIII.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But oft would Passion's bold and burning gaze, <br>And Curiosity's set frozen stare, <br>Fix on her beauty in those early days, <br>And coarsely thus her loveliness declare; <br>XIV.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Which she would shrink from, as the gentle plant, <br>Fern-leaved Mimosa folds itself away; <br>Suffering and sad;--for easy 'twas to daunt <br>One who on earth had no protecting stay. <br>XV.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And often to her eye's transparent lid <br>The unshed tears would rise with sudden start, <br>And sink again, as though by Reason chid, <br>Back to their gentle home, her wounded heart; <br>XVI.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Even as some gushing fountain idly wells <br>Up to the prison of its marble side, <br>Whose power the mounting wave for ever quells,-- <br>So rose her tears--so stemm'd by virgin pride. <br>XVII.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And so more lonely each succeeding day, <br>As she her lot did better understand, <br>She lived a life which had in it decay, <br>A flower transplanted to too cold a land,-- <br>XVIII.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Which for a while gives out a hope of bloom, <br>Then fades and pines, because it may not feel <br>The freedom and the warmth which gave it room <br>The beauty of its nature to reveal. <br>XIX.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For vainly would the heart accept its lot <br>And rouse its strength to bear avow'd contempt; <br>Scorn will be felt as scorn,--deserved or not,-- <br>And from its bitter spell none stand exempt. <br>XX.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There is a basilisk power in human eyes <br>When they would look a fellow-creature down, <br>'Neath which the faint soul fascinated lies, <br>Struck by the cold sneer, or the with'ring frown. <br>XXI.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But one there was, among that cruel crowd, <br>Whose nature half rebell'd against the chain <br>Which fashion flung around him; though too proud <br>To own that slavery's weariness and pain. <br>XXII.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Too proud; perhaps too weak; for Custom still <br>Curbs with an iron bit the souls born free; <br>They start and chafe, yet bend them to the will <br>Of this most nameless ruler,--so did he. <br>XXIII.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And even unto him the worldly brand <br>Which rested on her, half her charm effaced; <br>Vainly all pure and radiant did she stand,-- <br>Even unto him she was a thing disgraced. <br>XXIV.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Had she been early doom'd a cloister'd nun, <br>To Heaven devoted by a holy vow-- <br>His union with that poor deserted one <br>Had seem'd not more impossible than now. <br>XXV.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He could have loved her--fervently and well; <br>But still the cold world, with its false allure, <br>Bound his free liking in an icy spell, <br>And made its whole foundation insecure. <br>XXVI.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But not like meaner souls, would he, to prove <br>A vulgar admiration, her pursue; <br>For though his glances after her would rove, <br>As something beautiful, and strange, and new, <br>XXVII.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">They were withdrawn if but her eye met his, <br>Or, for an instant if their light remain'd, <br>They soften'd into gentlest tenderness, <br>As asking pardon that his look had pain'd. <br>XXVIII.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And she was nothing unto him,--nor he <br>Aught unto her; but each of each did dream <br>In the still hours of thought, when we are free <br>To quit the real world for the things which seem. <br>XXIX.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When in his heart Love's folded wings would stir, <br>And bid his youth choose out a fitting mate, <br>Against his will his thoughts roam'd back to her, <br>And all around seem'd blank and desolate. <br>XXX.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When, in his worldly haunts, a smother'd sigh <br>Told he had won some lady of the land, <br>The dreaming glances of his earnest eye <br>Beheld far off the Creole orphan stand; <br>XXXI.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And to the beauty by his side he froze, <br>As though she were not fair, nor he so young, <br>And turn'd on her such looks of cold repose <br>As check'd the trembling accents of her tongue, <br>XXXII.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And bid her heart's dim passion seek to hide <br>Its gathering strength, although the task be pain, <br>Lest she become that mock to woman's pride-- <br>A wretch that loves unwoo'd, and loves in vain. <br>XXXIII.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So in his heart she dwelt,--as one may dwell <br>Upon the verge of a forbidden ground; <br>And oft he struggled hard to break the spell <br>And banish her, but vain the effort found; <br>XXXIV.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For still along the winding way which led <br>Into his inmost soul, unbidden came <br>Her haunting form,--and he was visited <br>By echoes soft of her unspoken name, <br>XXXV.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Through the long night, when those we love seem near, <br>However cold, however far away, <br>Borne on the wings of floating dreams, which cheer <br>And give us strength to meet the struggling day. <br>XXXVI.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And when in twilight hours she roved apart, <br>Feeding her love-sick soul with visions fair, <br>The shadow of his eyes was on her heart, <br>And the smooth masses of his shining hair <br>XXXVII.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Rose in the glory of the evening light, <br>And, where she wander'd, glided evermore, <br>A star which beam'd upon her world's lone night, <br>Where nothing glad had ever shone before. <br>XXXVIII.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But vague and girlish was that love,--no hope, <br>Even of familiar greeting, ever cross'd <br>Its innocent, but, oh! most boundless scope; <br>She loved him,--and she knew her love was lost. <br>XXXIX.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She gazed on him, as one from out a bark, <br>Bound onward to a cold and distant strand, <br>Some lovely bay, some haven fair may mark, <br>Stretching far inward to a sunnier land; <br>XL.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Who, knowing he must still sail on, turns back <br>To watch with dreaming and most mournful eyes <br>The ruffling foam which follows in his track, <br>Or the deep starlight of the shoreless skies. <br>XLI.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh! many a hopeless love like this may be,-- <br>For love will live that never looks to win; <br>Gems rashly lost in Passion's stormy sea, <br>Not to be lifted forth when once cast in! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">PART II.<br>I.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So time roll'd on, till suddenly that child <br>Of southern clime and feelings, droop'd and pined <br>Her cheek wax'd paler, and her eye grew wild, <br>And from her youthful form all strength declined. <br>II.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Twas then I knew her; late and vainly call'd, <br>To 'minister unto a mind diseased,'-- <br>When on her heart's faint sickness all things pall'd, <br>And the deep inward pain was never eased: <br>III.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Her step was always gentle, but at last <br>It fell as lightly as a wither'd leaf <br>In autumn hours; and wheresoe'er she pass'd <br>Smiles died away, she look'd so full of grief. <br>IV.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And more than ever from that world, where still <br>Her father hoped to place her, she would shrink; <br>Loving to be alone, her thirst to fill <br>From the sweet fountains where the dreamers drink. <br>V.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">One eve, beneath the acacia's waving bough, <br>Wrapt in these lonely thoughts she sate and read; <br>Her dark hair parted from her sunny brow, <br>Her graceful arm beneath her languid head; <br>VI.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And droopingly and sad she hung above <br>The open page, whereon her eyes were bent, <br>With looks of fond regret and pining love; <br>Nor heard my step, so deep was she intent. <br>VII.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And when she me perceived, she did not start, <br>But lifted up those soft dark eyes to mine, <br>And smiled, (that mournful smile which breaks the heart!) <br>Then glanced again upon the printed line. <br>VIII.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'What readest thou?' I ask'd. With fervent gaze, <br>As though she would have scann'd my inmost soul, <br>She turn'd to me, and, as a child obeys <br>The accustom'd question of revered control, <br>IX.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She pointed to the title of that book, <br>(Which, bending down, I saw was 'Coralie,') <br>Then gave me one imploring piteous look, <br>And tears, too long restrain'd, gush'd fast and free. <br>X.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It was a tale of one, whose fate had been <br>Too like her own to make that weeping strange; <br>Like her, transplanted from a sunnier scene; <br>Like her, all dull'd and blighted by the change. <br>XI.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">No further word was breathed between us two;-- <br>No confidence was made to keep or break;-- <br>But since that day, which pierced my soul quite thro', <br>My hand the dying girl would faintly take, <br>XII.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And murmur, as its grasp (ah! piteous end!) <br>Return'd the feeble pressure of her own, <br>'Be with me to the last,--for thou, dear friend, <br>Hast all my struggles, all my sorrow known!' <br>XIII.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She died!--The pulse of that untrammell'd heart <br>Fainted to stilness. Those most glorious eyes <br>Closed on the world where she had dwelt apart, <br>And her cold bosom heaved no further sighs. <br>XIV.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She died!--and no one mourn'd, except her sire, <br>Who for a while look'd out with eyes more dim; <br>Lone was her place beside his household fire, <br>Vanish'd the face that ever smiled on him. <br>XV.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And no one said to him--'Why mournest thou?' <br>Because she was the unknown child of shame; <br>(Albeit her mother better kept the vow <br>Of faithful love, than some who keep their fame.) <br>XVI.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Poor mother, and poor child!--unvalued lives! <br>Wan leaves that perish'd in obscurest shade! <br>While round me still the proud world stirs and strives, <br>Say, shall I weep that ye are lowly laid? <br>XVII.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Shall I mourn for ye? No!--and least for thee, <br>Young dreamer, whose pure heart gave way before <br>Thy bark was launch'd upon Love's stormy sea, <br>Or treachery wreck'd it on the farther shore. <br>XVIII.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Least, least of all for thee! Thou art gone hence! <br>Thee never more shall scornful looks oppress, <br>Thee the world wrings not with some vain pretence, <br>Nor chills thy tears, nor mocks at thy distress. <br>XIX.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">From man's injustice, from the cold award <br>Of the unfeeling, thou hast pass'd away; <br>Thou'rt at the gates of light, where angels guard <br>Thy path to realms of bright eternal day. <br>XX.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There shall thy soul its chains of slavery burst, <br>There, meekly standing before God's high throne, <br>Thou'lt find the judgments of our earth reversed, <br>And answer for no errors but thine own.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Caroline+Elizabeth+Sarah+Norton">Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton</a><div class=q>
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<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=354001" data-title="The Creole Girl; Or, The Physician’s Story de Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton" data-description="I.

SHE came to England from the island clime 
Which lies beyond the far Atlantic wave; 
She died in early youth--before her time-- 
'Peace to her broken heart, and virgin grave!' 
II.

She was the child of Passion, and of Shame, 
English her fath..."></div>
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