Classic and Contemporary Poetry
EPISTLE TO AUGUSTA, by GEORGE GORDON BYRON Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: My sister! My sweet sister! If a name Last Line: The tie which bound the first endures the last! Alternate Author Name(s): Byron, Lord; Byron, 6th Baron Subject(s): Sisters | ||||||||
MY sister! my sweet sister! if a name Dearer and purer were, it should be thine. Mountains and seas divide us, but I claim No tears, but tenderness to answer mine: Go where I will, to me thou art the same -- A loved regret which I would not resign. There yet are two things in my destiny, -- A world to roam through, and a home with thee. The first were nothing -- had I still the last, It were the haven of my happiness; But other claims and other ties thou hast, And mine is not the wish to make them less. A strange doom is thy father's son's, and past Recalling, as it lies beyond redress; Reversed for him our grandsire's fate of yore, -- He had no rest at sea, nor I on shore. If my inheritance of storms hath been In other elements, and on the rocks Of perils, overlook'd or unforeseen, I have sustain'd my share of worldly shocks, The fault was mine; nor do I seek to screen My errors with defensive paradox; I have been cunning in mine overthrow, The careful pilot of my proper woe. Mine were my faults, and mine be their reward. My whole life was a contest, since the day That gave me being, gave me that which marr'd The gift, -- a fate, or will, that walk'd astray; And I at times have found the struggle hard, And thought of shaking off my bonds of clay: But now I fain would for a time survive, If but to see what next can well arrive. Kingdoms and empires in my little day I have outlived, and yet I am not old; And when I look on this, the petty spray Of my own years of trouble, which have roll'd Like a wild bay of breakers, melts away: Something -- I know not what -- does still uphold A spirit of slight patience; -- not in vain, Even for its own sake, do we purchase pain. Perhaps the workings of defiance stir Within me, -- or perhaps a cold despair, Brought on when ills habitually recur, Perhaps a kinder clime, or purer air (For even to this may change of soul refer, And with light armour we may learn to bear), Have taught me a strange quiet, which was not The chief companion of a calmer lot. I feel almost at times as I have felt In happy childhood; trees, and flowers, and brooks, Which do remember me of where I dwelt Ere my young mind was sacrificed to books, Come as of yore upon me, and can melt My heart with recognition of their looks; And even at moments I could think I see Some living thing to love -- but none like thee. Here are the Alpine landscapes which create A fund for contemplation; -- to admire Is a brief feeling of a trivial date; But something worthier do such scenes inspire: Here to be lonely is not desolate, For much I view which I could most desire, And, above all, a lake I can behold Lovelier, not dearer, than our own of old. Oh that thou wert but with me! -- but I grow The fool of my own wishes, and forget The solitude, which I have vaunted so, Has lost its praise in this but one regret; There may be others which I less may show; -- I am not of the plaintive mood, and yet I feel an ebb in my philosophy, And the tide rising in my alter'd eye. I did remind thee of our own dear Lake, By the old Hall which may be mine no more. Leman's is fair; but think not I forsake The sweet remembrance of a dearer shore: Sad havoc Time must with my memory make Ere that or thou can fade these eyes before; Though, like all things which I have loved, they are Resign'd for ever, or divided far. The world is all before me; I but ask Of Nature that with which she will comply -- It is but in her summer's sun to bask, To mingle with the quiet of her sky, To see her gentle face without a mask, And never gaze on it with apathy. She was my early friend, and now shall be My sister -- till I look again on thee. I can reduce all feelings but this one, And that I would not; -- for at length I see Such scenes as those wherein my life begun, The earliest -- even the only paths for me: Had I but sooner learnt the crowd to shun, I had been better than I now can be; The passions which have torn me would have slept; I had not suffer'd, and thou hadst not wept. With false Ambition what had I to do? Little with Love, and least of all with Fame; And yet they came unsought, and with me grew, And made me all which they can make -- a name. Yet this was not the end I did pursue; Surely I once beheld a nobler aim. But all is over -- I am one the more To baffled millions which have gone before. And for the future, this world's future may From me demand but little of my care; I have outlived myself by many a day; Having survived so many things that were; My years have been no slumber, but the prey Of ceaseless vigils; for I had the share Of life which might have fill'd a century, Before its fourth in time had pass'd me by. And for the remnant which may be to come, I am content; and for the past I feel Not thankless, -- for within the crowded sum Of struggles, happiness at times would steal; And for the present, I would not benumb My feelings farther. -- Nor shall I conceal That with all this I still can look around, And worship Nature with a thought profound. For thee, my own sweet sister, in thy heart I know myself secure, as thou in mine; We were and are -- I am, even as thou art -- Beings who ne'er each other can resign; It is the same, together or apart, From life's commencement to its slow decline We are entwined -- let death come slow or fast, The tie which bound the first endures the last! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HYMN FOR LANIE POO by AMIRI BARAKA CALMING KALI by LUCILLE CLIFTON FAR MEMORY: 1. CONVENT by LUCILLE CLIFTON FAR MEMORY: 4. TRYING TO UNDERSTAND THIS LIFE by LUCILLE CLIFTON FAR MEMORY: 6. KARMA by LUCILLE CLIFTON MY SISTER, THE QUEEN by EDWARD FIELD ALL IS VANITY, SAITH THE PREACHER' by GEORGE GORDON BYRON |
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