Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, FRAGMENT, by FRANCES ANNE KEMBLE


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

FRAGMENT, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: Walking by moonlight on the golden margin
Last Line: That glisten'd, like a pearl, in its white bosom.
Alternate Author Name(s): Butler, Frances Anne; Kemble, Fanny


WALKING by moonlight on the golden margin
That binds the silver sea, I fell to thinking
Of all the wild imaginings that man
Hath peopled heaven, and earth, and ocean with;
Making fair nature's solitary haunts
Alive with beings, beautiful and fearful.
And as the chain of thought grew, link by link,
It seem'd as though the midnight heavens wax'd brighter,
The stars gazed fix'dly with their golden eyes,
And a strange light play'd o'er each sleeping billow,
That laid its head upon the sandy beach.
Anon there came along the rocky shore
A far-off sound of sweetest minstrelsy.
From no one point of heaven or earth it came;
But under, over, and about it breathed;
Filling my soul with thrilling, fearful pleasure.
It swell'd, as though borne on the floating wings
Of the midsummer breeze; it died away
Towards heaven, as though it sank into the clouds,
That one by one melted like flakes of snow
In the moonbeams. Then came a rushing sound,
Like countless wings of bees, or butterflies;
And suddenly, as far as eye might view,
The coast was peopled with a world of elves,
Who in fantastic ringlets danced around,
With antic gestures, and wild beckoning motion,
Aimed at the moon. White was their snowy vesture,
And shining as the Alps, when that the sun
Gems their pale robes with diamonds. On their heads
Were wreaths of crimson and of yellow foxglove.
They were all fair, and light as dreams. Anon
The dance broke off; and sailing through the air
Some one way, and some other, they did each
Alight upon some waving branch or flower
That garlanded the rocks upon the shore.
One, chiefly did I mark; one tiny sprite,
Who crept into an orange flower-bell,
And there lay nestling, whilst his eager lips
Drank from its virgin chalice the night dew,
That glisten'd, like a pearl, in its white bosom.





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