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Robinson, sorrow, in English Clear filters

AnxiousEdwin Arlington Robinson

Leffingwell III: Requiescat

We never knew the sorrow or the pain Within him, for he seemed as one asleep-- Until he faced us with a dying leap, And with a blast of paramount, profane, And vehement valediction did explain To each of us, in words that we shall keep, Why we were not to wonder or to weep, Or ever dare to wish him back again. He may be now an amiable shade, With merry fellow-phantoms unafraid Around him--but we do not ask. We know That he would rise and haunt us horribly, And be with us o’ nights of a certainty. Did we not hear him when he told us so?
SadRobinson

Elegy on the Death of Lady Middleton

THE knell of death, that on the twilight gale, Swells its deep murmur to the pensive ear; In awful sounds repeats a mournful tale, And claims the tribute of a tender tear. The dreadful hour is past ! the mandate giv'n! The gentle MIDDLETON shall breathe no more, Yet who shall blame the wise decrees of Heaven, Or the dark mysteries of Fate explore? No more her converse shall delight the heart; No more her smile benign spread pleasure round; No more her liberal bosom shall impart The balm of pity to Affliction's wound. Her soul above the pride of noble birth, Above the praises of an empty name, By graceful MEEKNESS mark'd superior worth, By peerless VIRTUES claim'd the fairest fame,
SadRobinson

Life

"What is this world?­thy school, O misery! "Our only lesson is to learn to suffer." YOUNG.LOVE, thou sportive fickle boy, Source of anguish, child of joy, Ever wounding­ever smiling, Soothing still, and still beguiling; What are all thy boasted treasures, Tender sorrows, transient pleasures? Anxious hopes, and jealous fears, LAUGHING HOURS, and MOURNING YEARS. What is FRIENDSHIP'S soothing name? But a shad'wy, vap'rish flame; Fancy's balm for ev'ry wound, Ever sought, but rarely found; What is BEAUTY ? but a flow'r, Blooming, fading in an hour;
RomanticRobinson

Sonnet XVII: Love Steals Unheeded

Love steals unheeded o'er the tranquil mind, As Summer breezes fan the sleeping main, Slow through each fibre creeps the subtle pain, 'Till closely round the yielding bosom twin'd. Vain is the hope the magic to unbind, The potent mischief riots in the brain, Grasps ev'ry thought, and burns in ev'ry vein, 'Till in the heart the Tyrant lives enshrin'd. Oh! Victor strong! bending the vanquish'd frame; Sweet is the thraldom that thou bid'st us prove! And sacred is the tear thy victims claim, For blest are those whom sighs of sorrow move! Then nymphs beware how ye profane my name, Nor blame my weakness, till like me ye love!
SadRobinson

Sonnet XIX: Farewell, Ye Coral Caves

Farewell, ye coral caves, ye pearly sands, Ye waving woods that crown yon lofty steep; Farewell, ye Nereides of the glitt'ring deep, Ye mountain tribes, ye fawns, ye sylvan bands: On the bleak rock your frantic minstrel stands, Each task forgot, save that, to sigh and weep; In vain the strings her burning fingers sweep, No more her touch, the Grecian Lyre commands! In Circe's cave my faithless Phaon's laid, Her daemons dress his brow with opiate flow'rs; Or, loit'ring in the brown pomgranate shade, Beguile with am'rous strains the fateful hours; While Sappho's lips, to paly ashes fade, And sorrow's cank'ring worm her heart devours!
SadRobinson

Sonnet to the Memory of Miss Maria Linley

So bends beneath the storm yon balmy flow'r, Whose spicy blossoms once perfum'd the gale; So press'd with tears reclines yon lily pale, Obedient to the rude and beating show'r. Still is the LARK, that hov'ring o'er yon spray, With jocund carol usher'd in the morn; And mute the NIGHTINGALE, whose tender lay Melted the feeling mind with sounds forlorn: More sweet, MARIA, was thy plaintive strain! That strain is o'er; but mem'ry ne'er shall fade, When erst it cheer'd grey twilight's dreary shade, And charm'd the sorrow-stricken soul from pain; STILL, STILL, melodious maid, thy dulcet song Shall breathe, immortal, on an ANGEL'S TONGUE!
SadRobinson

Sonnet XXXVIII: Oh Sigh

Oh Sigh! thou steal'st, the herald of the breast, The lover's fears, the lover's pangs to tell; Thou bid'st with timid grace the bosom swell, Cheating the day of joy, the night of rest! Oh! lucid Tears! with eloquence confest, Why on my fading cheek unheeded dwell, Meek, as the dew-drops on the flowret's bell By ruthless tempests to the green-sod prest. Fond sigh be hush'd! congeal, O! slighted tear! Thy feeble pow'rs the busy Fates control! Or if thy crystal streams again appear, Let them, like Lethe's, oblivion roll: For Love the tyrant plays, when hope is near, And she who flies the lover, chains the soul!
SadRobinson

Lines to the memory of Richard Boyle, Esq.

"Fate snatch'd him early to the pitying sky." POPE.IF WORTH, too early to the grave consign'd, Can claim the pitying tear, or touch the mind ? If manly sentiments unstain'd by art, Could waken FRIENDSHIP, or delight the heart ? Ill-fated youth ! to THEE the MUSE shall pay The last sad tribute of a mournful lay; On thy lone grave shall MAY'S soft dews be shed, And fairest flowrets blossom o'er thy head; The drooping lily, and the snow-drop pale, Mingling their fragrant leaves, shall there recline, While CHERUBS hov'ring on th' ethereal gale, Shall chaunt a requiem o'er the hallow'd shrine. And if Reflection's piercing eye should scan The trivial frailties of imperfect MAN;
InspiredRobinson

Sonnet XLIV: Here Droops the Muse

Here droops the muse! while from her glowing mind, Celestial Sympathy, with humid eye, Bids the light Sylph capricious Fancy fly, Time's restless wings with transient flowr's to bind! For now, with folded arms and head inclin'd, Reflection pours the deep and frequent sigh, O'er the dark scroll of human destiny, Where gaudy buds and wounding thorns are twin'd. O! Sky-born VIRTUE! sacred is thy name! And though mysterious Fate, with frown severe, Oft decorates thy brows with wreaths of Fame, Bespangled o'er with sorrow's chilling tear! Yet shalt thou more than mortal raptures claim, The brightest planet of th' ETERNAL SPHERE!
SadRobinson

Absence

WHEN from the craggy mountain's pathless steep, Whose flinty brow hangs o'er the raging sea, My wand'ring eye beholds the foamy deep, I mark the restless surge­and think of THEE. The curling waves, the passing breezes move, Changing and treach'rous as the breath of LOVE; The "sad similitude" awakes my smart, And thy dear image twines about my heart. When at the sober hour of sinking day, Exhausted Nature steals to soft repose, When the hush'd linnet slumbers on the spray, And scarce a ZEPHYR fans the drooping ROSE; I glance o'er scenes of bliss to friendship dear, And at the fond remembrance drop a tear; Nor can the balmy incense soothe my smart, Still cureless sorrow preys upon my heart.

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