Poems by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton

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The Forsaken

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'd with an imagined strain;

Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton

The Dying Hour

OH! watch me; watch me still

Thro' the long night's dreary hours,

Uphold by thy firm will

Worn Nature's sinking powers!

II.

While yet thy face is there

(The loose locks round it flying),

Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton

The Creole Girl; Or, The Physician’s Story

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 father, and of noble birth;

Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton

The Reprieve

A MOMENT since, he stood unmoved--alone;

Courage and thought on his resolvēd brow;

But hope is quivering in the broken tone,

Whose bitter anguish seems to shake him now:

Her light foot woke no echo as it came,

The rustling robe her sudden swiftness told;

She pleads for one who dies a death of shame;

She pleads--for agony and love are bold.

Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton

The Poplar Field

"The poplars are fell'd: farewell to the shade,

And the whispering sound of the cool colonnade;

The winds play no longer and sing in the leaves,

Nor Ouse on his bosom their image receives.

"Twelve years have elapsed, since I last took a view

Of my favourite field, and the bank where they grew;

And now in the grass behold they are laid,

And the tree is my seat, that once lent me a shade.

Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton

The Rebel

WITH none to heed or mark

The prisoner in his cell,

In a dungeon, lone and dark,

He tuned his wild farewell.

The harp whose strings might never breathe again

The joyous sounds it gave to Freedom's strain,

With hurried chords, his trembling fingers woke;

And thus the brave, but captive rebel spoke :--

Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton

The Mourners

LOW she lies, who blest our eyes

Through many a sunny day;

She may not smile, she will not rise--

The life hath past away!

Yet there is a world of light beyond,

Where we neither die nor sleep--

She is there, of whom our souls were fond--

Then wherefore do we weep?

Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton

The Christening

(Of my Brother's infant Son, February 21, 1839.)

THERE is a sound of laughter light and gay,

And hurried welcomes, as of joyful greeting;

The stir and murmur of a holiday,

The grouping of glad friends each other meeting:

And in the midst art THOU--thou tiny flower,

Whose coming hath so cheer'd this wintry hour!

Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton

The Mother’s Heart

WHEN first thou camest, gentle, shy, and fond,

My eldest-born, first hope, and dearest treasure,

My heart received thee with a joy beyond

All that it yet had felt of earthly pleasure;

Nor thought that any love again might be

So deep and strong as that I felt for thee.

II.

Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton

The Dream

'TWAS summer eve; the changeful beams still play'd

On the fir-bark and through the beechen shade;

Still with soft crimson glow'd each floating cloud;

Still the stream glitter'd where the willow bow'd;

Still the pale moon sate silent and alone,

Nor yet the stars had rallied round her throne;

Those diamond courtiers, who, while yet the West

Wears the red shield above his dying breast,

Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton

The King Of Denmark’s Ride

WORD was brought to the Danish king

(Hurry!)

That the love of his heart lay suffering,

And pin’d for the comfort his voice would bring;

(Oh! ride as though you were flying!)

Better he loves each golden curl

On the brow of that Scandinavian girl

Than his rich crown jewels of ruby and pearl;

Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton

Recollections

DO you remember all the sunny places,

Where in bright days, long past, we played together?

Do you remember all the old home faces

That gathered round the hearth in wintry weather?

Do you remember all the happy meetings,

In Summer evenings round the open door--

Kind looks, kind hearts, kind words and tender greetings,

And clasping hands whose pulses beat no more?

Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton