Blaspheme not thou thy sacred life, nor turn
O’er joys that God hath for a season lent,
Perchance to try thy spirit, and its bent,
Effeminate soul and base! weakly to mourn;
There lies no desert in the land of life,
For e’en that tract that barrenest doth seem,
Laboured of thee in faith and hope, shall teem
With heavenly harvests and rich gatherings, rife.
Haply no more, music and mirth and love,
And glorious things of old and younger art,
Shall of thy days make one perpetual feast;
But when these bright companions all depart,
Lay thou thy head upon the ample breast
Of Hope, and thou shalt hear the angels sing above.
(Frances Anne Kemble)
More Poetry from Frances Anne Kemble:
Frances Anne Kemble Poems based on Topics: Love, Life, Hope, Art, Belief & Faith, Angels, Music- Verses On Rome (Frances Anne Kemble Poems)
- Ode (Frances Anne Kemble Poems)
- The Wreck Of The Birkenhead, (Frances Anne Kemble Poems)
- Lines To Mrs. St. Leger (Frances Anne Kemble Poems)
- Arrival In Rome (Frances Anne Kemble Poems)
- Epistle From Thhe Rhine (Frances Anne Kemble Poems)
Readers Who Like This Poem Also Like:
Based on Topics: Love Poems, Life Poems, Hope Poems, Art Poems, Belief & Faith Poems, Angels Poems, Music PoemsBased on Keywords: teem, effeminate, gatherings, barrenest