Classic and Contemporary Poetry
HEARTS, by ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER Poet's Biography First Line: A trinket made like a heart, dear Last Line: Over all the buried past! Alternate Author Name(s): Berwick, Mary Subject(s): Death; Farewell; Hearts; Life; Love; Dead, The; Parting | ||||||||
I. A TRINKET made like a Heart, dear, Of red gold, bright and fine, Was given to me for a keepsake, Given to me for mine. And another heart, warm and tender, As true as a heart could be; And every throb that stirred it Was always and all for me. Sailing over the waters, Watching the far blue land, I dropped my golden heart, dear, Dropt it out of my hand! It lies in the cold, blue waters, Fathoms and fathoms deep, The golden heart which I promised Promised to prize and keep. Gazing at Life's bright visions, So false, and fair, and new, I forgot the other heart, dear, Forgot it and lost it too! I might seek that heart forever, I might seek and seek in vain; -- And for one short, careless hour, I pay with a life of pain. II. THE Heart? -- Yes, I wore it As sign and as token Of a love that once gave it, A vow that was spoken; But a love, and a vow, and a heart Can be broken. The Love? -- Life and Death Are crushed into a day, So what wonder that Love Should as soon pass away, -- What wonder I saw it Fade, fail, and decay? The Vow? -- why what was it? It snapped like a thread; Who cares for the corpse When the spirit is fled? Then I said, "Let the Dead rise And bury its dead, "While the true, living future Grows pure, wise, and strong." So I cast the gold heart I had worn for so long In the Lake, and bound on it A Stone -- and a Wrong! III. Look, this little golden Heart Was a true-love shrine For a tress of hair; I held them, Heart and tress, as mine, Like the Love which gave the token: -- See, to-day the Heart is broken! Broken is the golden heart, Lost the tress of hair; Ah, the shrine is empty, vacant, Desolate and bare! So the token should depart, When Love dies within the heart. Fast and deep the river floweth, Floweth to the west; I will cast the golden trinket In its cold dark breast: -- Flow, O river, deep and fast, Over all the buried past! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE THREE CHILDREN by JOSEPHINE JACOBSEN STUDY #2 FOR B.B.L. by JUNE JORDAN WATCHING THE NEEDLEBOATS AT SAN SABBA by JAMES JOYCE SESTINA: TRAVEL NOTES by WELDON KEES A DOUBTING HEART by ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER |
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