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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=354010" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Forsaken</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">IT is the music of her native land,-- <br>The airs she used to love in happier days; <br>The lute is struck by some young gentle hand, <br>To soothe her spirit with remember'd lays. <br>II.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But her sad heart is wandering from the notes, <br>Her ear is fill'd with an imagined strain; <br>Vainly the soften'd music round her floats, <br>The echo it awakes is all of pain! <br>III.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The echo it awakes, is of a voice <br>Which never more her weary heart shall cheer; <br>Fain would she banish it, but hath no choice, <br>Its vanish'd sound still haunts her shrinking ear,-- <br>IV.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Still haunts her with its tones of joy and love, <br>Its memories of bitterness and wrong, <br>Bidding her thoughts thro' various changes rove,-- <br>Welcomes, farewells, and snatches of wild song. <br>V.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Why bring her music? She had half forgot <br>How left, how lonely, how oppress'd she was; <br>Why, by these strains, recal her former lot, <br>The depth of all her suffering, and its cause? <br>VI.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Know ye not what a spell there is in sound? <br>Know ye not that the melody of words <br>Is nothing to the power that wanders round, <br>Giving vague language to harmonious chords? <br>VII.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh I keep ye silence! He hath sung to her, <br>And from that hour--(faint twilight, sweet and dim, <br>When the low breeze scarce made the branches stirs)-- <br>Music hath been a memory of HIM! <br>VIII.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Chords which the wandering fingers scarcely touch <br>When they would seek for some forgotten song,-- <br>Stray notes which have no certain meaning, such <br>As careless hands unthinkingly prolong,-- <br>IX.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Come unto HER, fraught with a vivid dream <br>Of love, in all its wild and passionate strength,-- <br>Of sunsets, glittering on the purple stream,-- <br>Of shadows, deepening into twilight length,-- <br>X.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Of gentle sounds, when the warm world lay hush'd <br>Beneath the soft breath of the evening air,-- <br>Of hopes and fears, and expectations crush'd, <br>By one long certainty of blank despair! <br>XI.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Bear to the sick man's couch the fiery cup, <br>Pledged by wild feasters in their riotous hours, <br>And bid his parch'd lips drink the poison up, <br>As tho' its foam held cool refreshing powers,-- <br>XII.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Lift some poor wounded wretch, whose writhing pain <br>Finds soothing only in an utter rest, <br>Forth in some rude-made litter, to regain <br>Strength for his limbs and vigour for his breast;-- <br>XIII.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But soothe ye not that proud forsaken heart <br>With strains whose sweetness maddens as they fall; <br>Untroubled let her feverish soul depart-- <br>Not long shall memory's power its might enthral; <br>XIV.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Not long,--tho' balmy be the summer's breath! <br>In the deep stillness of its golden light, <br>A shadowy spirit sits, whose name is DEATH, <br>And turns, what was all beauty, into blight; <br>XV.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And she, before whose sad and dreaming eye <br>Visions of by-gone days are sweeping on, <br>In her unfaded youth shall drooping die, <br>Shut from the glow of that Italian sun: <br>XVI.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then let the organ's solemn notes prolong <br>Their glory round the silence of her grave, <br>Then let the choral voices swell in song <br>And echo thro' the chancel and the nave; <br>XVII.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For then her heart shall ache not at the sound, <br>Then the faint fever of her life shall cease <br>Silence, unbroken, calm, shall reign around, <br>And the long restless shall be laid at peace.</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=354010" data-title="The Forsaken de Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton" data-description="I.

IT is the music of her native land,-- 
The airs she used to love in happier days; 
The lute is struck by some young gentle hand, 
To soothe her spirit with remember'd lays. 
II.

But her sad heart is wandering from the notes, 
Her ear is fill'..."></div>
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