Poetry Explorer


Classic and Contemporary Poetry


SONNET: 1, 16 by FREDERICK GODDARD TUCKERMAN

First Line: YET NATURE, WHERE THE THUNDER LEAVES ITS TRACE
Last Line: THAN AGRIA OR ARTEMISIA DRANK.

Yet Nature, where the thunder leaves its trace
On the high hemlock pine or sandstone bank,
Hating all shock of hue or contrast rank,
With some consenting color heals the place,
Or o'er it draws her mosses green and dank:
So gentle Time will bring with tender craft
Another day, and other greens ingraft
On the dead soil so fire-burned now and blank.
What we have had, we hold, and cannot sink
Remembrance: patience cometh from above;
And now he breathes apart to daily drink
In tears the bitter ashes of his love,
Yet precious rich, and a diviner draught
Than Agria or Artemisia drank.



Home: PoetryExplorer.net