| When maidens such as Hester die, |
| Their place ye may not well supply, |
| Though ye among a thousand try |
|
With vain endeavour. |
| A month or more hath she been dead, |
| Yet cannot I by force be led |
| To think upon the wormy bed |
And her together.
|
| A springy motion in her gait, |
| A rising step, did indicate |
| Of pride and joy no common rate |
|
That flush’d her spirit: |
| I know not by what name beside |
| I shall it call: if ’twas not pride, |
| It was a joy to that allied |
She did inherit.
|
| Her parents held the Quaker rule, |
| Which doth the human feeling cool, |
| But she was train’d in Nature’s school, |
|
Nature had blest her. |
| A waking eye, a prying mind, |
| A heart that stirs, is hard to bind; |
| A hawk’s keen sight ye cannot blind, |
Ye could not Hester.
|
| My sprightly neighbour! gone before
|
| To that unknown and silent shore, |
| Shall we not meet, as heretofore |
|
Some summer morning― |
| When from thy cheerful eyes a ray |
| Hath struck a bliss upon the day, |
| A bliss that would not go away, |
A sweet fore-warning?
|
| Charles Lamb
| Classic Poems |
| |
|
[ Hester ] [ On An Infant Dying As Soon As Born ] [ The Old Familiar Faces ] |
