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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=509998" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Lady Of Rathmore Hall</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Throughout the country for many a mile<br>There is not a nobler, statelier pile<br>Than ivy crowned Rathmore Hall;<br>And the giant oaks that shadow the wold,<br>Though hollowed by time, are not as old<br>As its Norman turrets tall. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Let us follow that stream of sunset red,<br>Crimsoning the portal overhead,<br>Stealing through curtaining lace,<br>Where sits in a spacious and lofty room<br>Full of gems of art—exotics in bloom—<br>The Lady of the place. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">If Rathmore Hall is with praises named,<br>Not less is its queen-like mistress famed<br>For wondrous beauty and grace;<br>And as she reclines there, calmly now,<br>The sunset flush on her ivory brow,<br>We marvel at form and face. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Wondrously perfect, peerlessly fair,<br>Are the mouth and the eyes and luxuriant hair,<br>As lily she’s graceful and fall;<br>Not florid full is that lady fair<br>But pale and high-bred, with just the air<br>That is suited to Rathmore Hall. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Health, youth, and loveliness on her smile,<br>Her abode that noble and ancient pile,<br>She, surely, must happy be—<br>(With each wish fulfilled that wealth can fulfil,<br>For as if by magic is wrought her will)<br>A moment wait—we shall see! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">At length she moves and heavily sighs,<br>While wearily rest her violet eyes<br>On her jewels richly wrought;<br>Shuddering, she turns away her gaze<br>From flashing diamond and ruby’s blaze,<br>As she whispers, “Too dearly bought!” </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then, slowly rising, the casement nears,<br>And looking abroad through a mist of tears<br>Sighs: “Yes, I have earned it all:<br>Crushed a manly heart that too truly loved,<br>False to my. vows and to honor proved,<br>To be Lady of Rathmore Hall. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">“What are now its broad rich acres to me,<br>Stretching out as far as my gaze can see?<br>With loathing I turn from the scene;<br>My womanhood wasting in wild regret<br>O’er a past that I would, but cannot, forget;<br>O’er a life that might have been! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">“Oh! for the humble, dear home of my youth,<br>Its loving warm hearts, its unsullied truth,<br>Its freedom from fashion’s thrall.<br>And the blameless hopes—the bliss that was mine<br>Ere awoke in my heart a wish to shine<br>As Lady of Rathmore Hall!” </div><div style="margin:10px 0">She stops, for, lo! in the chamber still,<br>Loud barking of hounds and harsh accents fill<br>The quiet and dreamy air;<br>Swearing at menials—with lowering brow,<br>Earl Rathmore, entering her presence now,<br>Turns on her an angry stare. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">A shudder runs through her—what does it tell?<br>A look in her eyes that not there should dwell—<br>She hates him—his wedded wife!<br>Surely angels grieve in their bliss above<br>To see, where there should be perfect love,<br>Disunion—unholy strife. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">With an oath he mutters “Still moping, eh!<br>From hour to hour and day to-day;<br>Not for this from thy lowly state—<br>Enticed by the beauty I’m weary of now,<br>And smiles that have fled from thy sullen brow—<br>I made thee a Rathmore’s mate.” </div><div style="margin:10px 0">With no word from her lips she to him replies,<br>But the shadow deepens within her eyes,<br>And she smiles in cold disdain;<br>Yet her snowy eyelids haughty droop,<br>And the calm, that disdains to his will to stoop,<br>Mask an aching heart and brain. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">With a muttered curse, in still harsher tone,<br>He passes out, and thus leaves her alone<br>In her rich and gilded gloom<br>Ah, no wretched wife through the whole broad land<br>Is as weary of life as that lady grand<br>As she sits in that splendid room. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">If a daughter’s soft arms should ever twine,<br>Lady Rathmore, round that white neck of thine,<br>Teach her not to barter all<br>The guileless love of her innocent youth,<br>Her premised vows and maidenly truth,<br>For another Rathmore Hall.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Rosanna+Eleanor+Leprohon">Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon</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=509998" data-title="The Lady Of Rathmore Hall de Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon" data-description="Throughout the country for many a mile
There is not a nobler, statelier pile
Than ivy crowned Rathmore Hall;
And the giant oaks that shadow the wold,
Though hollowed by time, are not as old
As its Norman turrets tall. 

Let us follow that stream o..."></div>
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