Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, LADY FRANKLIN, by ELIZABETH H. WHITTIER



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LADY FRANKLIN, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: Fold thy hands, thy work is over
Last Line: Hovers o'er the winter sea.
Subject(s): Franklin, Sir John (1786-1847)


FOLD thy hands, thy work is over;
Cool thy watching eyes with tears;
Let thy poor heart, over-wearied,
Rest alike from hopes and fears, --

Hopes, that saw with sleepless vision
One sad picture fading slow;
Fears, that followed, vague and nameless,
Lifting back the veils of snow.

For thy brave one, for thy lost one,
Truest heart of woman, weep!
Owning still the love that granted
Unto thy beloved sleep.

Not for him that hour of terror
When, the long ice-battle o'er,
In the sunless day his comrades
Deathward trod the Polar shore.

Spared the cruel cold and famine,
Spared the fainting heart's despair,
What but that could mercy grant him?
What but that has been thy prayer?

Dear to thee that last memorial
From the cairn beside the sea;
Evermore the month of roses
Shall be sacred time to thee.

Sad it is the mournful yew-tree
O'er his slumbers may not wave;
Sad it is the English daisy
May not blossom on his grave.

But his tomb shall storm and winter
Shape and fashion year by year,
Pile his mighty mausoleum,
Block by block, and tier on tier.

Guardian of its gleaming portal
Shall his stainless honor be,
While thy love, a sweet immortal,
Hovers o'er the winter sea.





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