Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE DAUGHTER, by ALICE CARY Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Alack, it is a dismal night Last Line: Is all that I shall ever know. | ||||||||
ALACK, it is a dismal night -- In gusts of thin and vapory light The moonshine overbloweth quite The fretful bosom of the storm, That beats against, but cannot harm The lady, whose chaste thoughts do charm Better than pious fast or prayer The evil spells and sprites of air -- In sooth, were she in saintly care Safer she could not be than now With truth's white crown upon her brow -- So sovereign, innocence, art thou. Just in the green top of a hedge That runs along a valley's edge One star has thrust a golden wedge, And all the sky beside is drear -- It were no cowardice to fear If some belated traveler near, To visionary fancies born, Should see upon the moor, forlorn, With spiky thistle burs and thorn; The lovely lady silent go, Not on a "palfrey white as snow," But with sad eyes and footsteps slow; And softly leading by the hand An old man who has nearly spanned, With his white hairs, life's latest sand. Hope in her faint heart newly thrills As down a barren reach of hills Before her fly two whippoorwills; But the gray owl keeps up his wail -- His feathers ruffled in the gale, Drowning almost their dulcet tale. Often the harmless flock she sees Lying white along the grassy leas, Like lily-bells weighed down with bees. And now and then the moonlight snake Curls up its white folds, for her sake, Closer within the poison brake. But still she keeps her lonesome way, Or if she pauses, 't is to say Some word of comfort, else to pray. What doth the gentle lady here Within a wood so dark and drear, Nor hermit's lodge nor castle near? See in the distance robed and crowned A prince with all his chiefs around, And like sweet light o'er sombre ground A meek and lovely lady, there Proffering her earnest, piteous prayer For an old man with silver hair. But what of evil he hath done, O'erclouding beauty's April sun, I know not -- nor if lost or won, The lady's pleading, sweet and low -- About her pilgrimage of woe, Is all that I shall ever know. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AN ORDER FOR A PICTURE by ALICE CARY PICTURES OF MEMORY by ALICE CARY THE WEST COUNTRY by ALICE CARY A CHILD'S WISDOM by ALICE CARY |
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