Poems by Marietta Holley

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The world is asleep! All hushed is Nature's warm, sweet breath.
The years go by, but they little seem
Oh! the day was dark and dreary,
My heart sings like a bird to-night
What though upon a wintry sea our life bark sails,
The sky is dark and the air is full of snow,
How the sumac banners bent, dripping as if with blood,
Yes! yes! I dare say it is so,
The clouds that vex the upper deep
Once through an autumn wood
Lift up your brown eyes, darling,
I turn the key in this idle hour
Gayly a knight set forth against the foe,
Smooth the hair;
Again I see that May moon shine,
What though the Eden morns were sweet with song
In his arm-chair, warmly cushioned,
So all things come to our mind at last,
A spirit is out to-night!
I might strive as well to melt to softness the soulless breast
Isabelle has gold, and lands,
I never shall hear your voice again,
In the unquiet night,
Clasp your arms round her neck to-night,
Who falsely called thee destroyer, still white Angel of Death?
I said that I would see
Last night she came unto me,
Soft o'er the meadow, and murmuring mere,
She lay asleep, and her face shone white
She sat in the cottage door, and the fair June moon looked down
Come, gentle sleep, with the holy night,
Come to me soft-eyed sleep,
On the shore I sit and gaze
Oh, the days are growing longer;
The sides of the hill were brown, but violet buds had started
The Squire was none of your common men
Like emerald lakes the meadows lie,
You will journey many a weary day and long,
Now sinks the Summer sun into the sea;
High on a rocky cliff did once a gray old castle stand,
How can I be to blame?
As on a waveless sea, a vessel strikes
The spare-room windows wide were raised,
'Twas a bleak dull moor that stretched before
A long, low waste of yellow sand
Here in the silent doorway let me linger
It stands alone on a haunted shore,
Clear shone the moon, my mansion walls
Sitting alone in the windy tower,
I sit in the cloud and the darkness
Now while the crimson light fades in the west,
Is his form hidden by some cliff or crag,
Put the crown of your love on my forehead,
I asked to see the dead man's face,
Oh, I am the siren, the siren of the sea,
"I leave my child to Heaven." And with these words
I am thinking of fern forests that once did towering stand,
Not far away does that bright city stand,
I am an outcast, sinful and vile I know,
In a waste of yellow sand, on the brow of a dreary hill,
"My house is thatched with violet leaves
Draped in shadows stands the mountain
I know not where you wait for me in all your maiden sweetness,
When enwrapped in rosy pleasure,
It is not the lark's clear tone
Oh gay young husbandmen would you be sure of a crop