Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE FOUNTAIN OF OBLIVION, by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: One draught, kind fairy! From that fountain Last Line: I ask not to forget. Alternate Author Name(s): Browne, Felicia Dorothea Subject(s): Death; Dead, The | ||||||||
ONE draught, kind fairy! from that fountain deep, To lay the phantoms of a haunted breast, And lone affections, which are grief, to steep In the cool honey-dews of dreamless rest; And from the soul the lightning-marks, to lave -- One draught of that sweet wave! Yet, mortal, pause! -- within thy mind is laid Wealth, gathered long and slowly; thoughts divine Heap that full treasure-house; and thou hast made The gems of many a spirit's ocean thine; Shall the dark waters of oblivion bear A pyramid so fair? Pour from the fount! and let the draught efface All the vain lore by memory's pride amassed, So it but swept along the torrent's trace, And fill the hollow channels of the past; And from the bosom's inmost folded leaf Raise the one master-grief! Yet pause once more! All, all thy soul hath known, Loved, felt, rejoiced in, from its grasp must fade! Is there no voice whose kind awakening tone A sense of spring-time in thy heart hath made? No eye whose glance thy day-dreams would recall? Think -- wouldst thou part with all? Fill with forgetfulness! -- there are, there are Voices whose music I have loved too well; Eyes of deep gentleness -- but they are far -- Never! oh never, in my home to dwell! Take their soft looks from off my yearning soul -- Fill high the oblivious bowl! Yet pause again! With memory wilt thou cast The undying hope away, of memory born? Hope of reunion, heart to heart at last, No restless doubt between, no rankling thorn? Wouldst thou erase all records of delight That make such visions bright? Fill with forgetfulness, fill high! -- Yet stay -- 'Tis from the past we shadow forth the land Where smiles, long lost, again shall light our way, And the soul's friends be wreathed in one bright band. Pour the sweet waters back on their own rill -- I must remember still. For their sake, for the dead -- whose image naught, May dim within the temple of my breast -- For their love's sake, which now no earthly thought May shake or tremble with its own unrest, Though the past haunt me as a spirit -- yet I ask not to forget. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A FRIEND KILLED IN THE WAR by ANTHONY HECHT FOR JAMES MERRILL: AN ADIEU by ANTHONY HECHT TARANTULA: OR THE DANCE OF DEATH by ANTHONY HECHT CHAMPS D?ÇÖHONNEUR by ERNEST HEMINGWAY NOTE TO REALITY by TONY HOAGLAND A DIRGE (1) by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS |
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