<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=391545" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Madeline. A Domestic Tale</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">My child, my child, thou leav'st me!–I shall hear<br>The gentle voice no more that blest mine ear<br>With its first utterance; I shall miss the sound<br>Of thy light step amidst the flowers around, <br>And thy soft-breathing hymn at twilight's close,<br>And thy 'Good-night' at parting for repose.<br>Under the vine-leaves I shall sit alone,<br>And the low breeze will have a mournful tone<br>Amidst their tendrils, while I think of thee,<br>My child! and thou, along the moonlight sea,<br>With a soft sadness haply in thy glance,<br>Shalt watch thine own, thy pleasant land of France,<br>Fading to air.–Yet blessings with thee go!<br>Love guard thee, gentlest! and the exile's wo<br>From thy young heart be far! And sorrow not<br>For me, sweet daughter! in my lonely lot,<br>God shall be with me.–Now, farewell! farewell!<br>Thou that hast been what words may never tell<br>Unto thy mother's bosom, since the days<br>When thou wert pillow'd there, and wont to raise<br>In sudden laughter thence thy loving eye<br>That still sought mine:–these moments are gone by,<br>Thou too must go, my flower!–Yet with thee dwell<br>The peace of God!–One, one more gaze–farewell!' </div><div style="margin:10px 0">This was a mother's parting with her child,<br>A young meek bride, on whom fair fortune smil'd,<br>And wooed her with a voice of love away<br>From childhood's home; yet there, with fond delay,<br>She linger'd on the threshold, heard the note<br>Of her cag'd bird thro' trellis'd rose-leaves float,<br>And fell upon her mother's neck, and wept,<br>Whilst old remembrances, that long had slept,<br>Gush'd o'er her soul, and many a vanish'd day,<br>As in one picture traced, before her lay. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But the farewell was said; and on the deep,<br>When its breast heav'd in sunset's golden sleep,<br>With a calm'd heart, young Madeline ere long,<br>Pour'd forth her own sweet solemn vesper-song,<br>Breathing of home: thro' stillness heard afar,<br>And duly rising with the first pale star,<br>That voice was on the waters; till at last<br>The sounding ocean-solitudes were pass'd, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And the bright land was reach'd, the youthful world<br>That glows along the West: the sails were furl'd<br>In its clear sunshine, and the gentle bride<br>Look'd on the home that promis'd hearts untried<br>A bower of bliss to come.–Alas! we trace<br>The map of our own paths, and long ere years<br>With their dull steps the brilliant lines efface,<br>On sweeps the storm, and blots them out with tears.<br>That home was darken'd soon: the summer breeze<br>Welcom'd with death the wanderers from the seas,<br>Death unto one, and anguish–how forlorn!<br>To her, that widow'd in her marriage-morn,<br>Sat in her voiceless dwelling, whence with him<br>Her bosom's first belov'd, her friend and guide,<br>Joy had gone forth, and left the green earth dim,<br>As from the sun shut out on every side,<br>By the close veil of misery!–Oh! but ill,<br>When with rich hopes o'erfraught, the young high heart<br>Bears its first blow!–it knows not yet the part<br>Which life will teach–to suffer and be still, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And with submissive love to count the flowers<br>Which yet are spared, and thro' the future hour;<br>To send no busy dream!–She had not learn'd<br>Of sorrow till that hour, and therefore turn'd<br>In weariness from life: then came th' unrest,<br>The heart-sick yearning of the exile's breast,<br>The haunting sounds of voices far away,<br>And household steps: until at last she lay<br>On her lone couch of sickness, lost in dreams<br>Of the gay vineyards and blue-rushing streams<br>In her own sunny land, and murmuring oft<br>Familiar names, in accents wild, yet soft,<br>To strangers round that bed, who knew not aught<br>Of the deep spells wherewith each word was fraught.<br>To strangers?–Oh! could strangers raise the head<br>Gently as hers was raised?–did strangers shed<br>The kindly tears which bath'd that feverish brow<br>And wasted cheek with half-unconscious flow?<br>Something was there, that thro' the lingering night<br>Outwatches patiently the taper's light, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Something that faints not thro' the day's distress,<br>That fears not toil, that knows not weariness;<br>Love, true, and perfect love!–Whence came that power,<br>Uprearing thro' the storm the drooping flower?<br>Whence?–who can ask?–the wild delirium pass'd,<br>And from her eyes the spirit look'd at last<br>Into her mother's face, and wakening knew<br>The brow's calm grace, the hair's dear silvery hue,<br>The kind sweet smile of old!–and had she come,<br>Thus in life's evening, from her distant home,<br>To save her child?–Ev'n so–nor yet in vain:<br>In that young heart a light sprung up again,<br>And lovely still, with so much love to give,<br>Seem'd this fair world, tho' faded; still to live<br>Was not to pine forsaken. On the breast<br>That rock'd her childhood, sinking in soft rest,<br>'Sweet mother! gentlest mother! can it be?'<br>The lorn one cried, 'and do I look on thee?<br>Take back thy wanderer from this fatal shore,<br>Peace shall be ours beneath our vines once more.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Felicia+Dorothea+Hemans">Felicia Dorothea Hemans</a><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=391545" data-title="Madeline. A Domestic Tale de Felicia Dorothea Hemans" data-description="My child, my child, thou leav'st me!–I shall hear The gentle voice no more that blest mine ear With its first utterance; I shall miss the sound Of thy light step amidst the flowers around, And thy soft-breathing hymn at twilight's close, A..."></div> </div> </div>

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