Home ⇒ 📌Mary Darby Robinson ⇒ Sonnet to the Memory of Miss Maria Linley
Sonnet to the Memory of Miss Maria Linley
So bends beneath the storm yon balmy flow’r,
Whose spicy blossoms once perfum’d the gale;
So press’d with tears reclines yon lily pale,
Obedient to the rude and beating show’r.
Still is the LARK, that hov’ring o’er yon spray,
With jocund carol usher’d in the morn;
And mute the NIGHTINGALE, whose tender lay
Melted the feeling mind with sounds forlorn:
More sweet, MARIA, was thy plaintive strain!
That strain is o’er; but mem’ry ne’er shall fade,
When erst it cheer’d grey twilight’s dreary shade,
And charm’d the sorrow-stricken soul from pain;
STILL, STILL, melodious maid, thy dulcet song
Shall breathe, immortal, on an ANGEL’S TONGUE!
(2 votes, average: 2.50 out of 5)
Related poetry:
- Mad Maria Mad Maria in the Square Sits upon a wicker chair. When the keeper asks the price Mad Maria counts her lice. No pesito can she pay, So he shrugs and goes away; Hopes she’ll pay him with her prayers, Shabby keeper of the chairs. Mad Maria counts her lice, Cracks them once and cracks them […]...
- Sancta Maria Sancta Maria! turn thine eyes – Upon the sinner’s sacrifice, Of fervent prayer and humble love, From thy holy throne above. At morn – at noon – at twilight dim – Maria! thou hast heard my hymn! In joy and wo – in good and ill – Mother of God, be with me still! When […]...
- 454. Epistle from Esopus to Maria FROM those drear solitudes and frowsy cells, Where Infamy with sad Repentance dwells; Where turnkeys make the jealous portal fast, And deal from iron hands the spare repast; Where truant ‘prentices, yet young in sin, Blush at the curious stranger peeping in; Where strumpets, relics of the drunken roar, Resolve to drink, nay, half, to […]...
- Miss Lloyd has now went to Miss Green Miss Lloyd has now sent to Miss Green, As, on opening the box, may be seen, Some years of a Black Ploughman’s Gauze, To be made up directly, because Miss Lloyd must in mourning appear For the death of a Relative dear Miss Lloyd must expect to receive This license to mourn and to grieve, […]...
- Rinaldo to Laura Maria THOU! whose sublime poetic art Can pierce the pulses of the heart, Can force the treasur’d tear to flow In prodigality of woe; Or lure each jocund bliss to birth Amid the sportive bow’rs of mirth: LAURA DIVINE! I call thee now To yonder promontory’s brow That props the skies; while at its feet With […]...
- Epitaph for Maria Wentworth And here the precious dust is laid; Whose purely-temper’d clay was made So fine that it the guest betray’d. Else the soul grew so fast within, It broke the outward shell of sin, And so was hatch’d a cherubin. In height, it soar’d to God above; In depth, it did to knowledge move, And spread […]...
- Monody to the Memory of Chatterton Chill penury repress’d his noble rage, And froze the genial current of his soul. GRAY. IF GRIEF can deprecate the wrath of Heaven, Or human frailty hope to be forgiven! Ere now thy sainted spirit bends its way To the bland regions of celestial day; Ere now, thy soul, immers’d in purest air Smiles at […]...
- SONNET OF AUTUMN THEY say to me, thy clear and crystal eyes: “Why dost thou love me so, strange lover mine?” Be sweet, be still! My heart and soul despise All save that antique brute-like faith of thine; And will not bare the secret of their shame To thee whose hand soothes me to slumbers long, Nor their […]...
- Miss Mischievous Miss Don’t-do-this and Don’t-do-that Has such a sunny smile You cannot help but chuckle at Her cuteness and her guile. Her locks are silken floss of gold, Her eyes are pansy blue: Maybe of years to eighty old The best is two. Miss Don’t-do-this and Don’t-do-that To roguishness is fain; To guard that laughter-loving brat […]...
- Sonnet CXVI: Let me not to the marriage of true minds Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove: O no! it is an ever-fixed mark That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth’s unknown, although […]...
- Sonnet 116: Let me not to the marriage of true minds Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove. O no, it is an ever-fixèd mark That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wand’ring bark, Whose worth’s unknown, although […]...
- Sonnet 76: Why is my verse so barren of new pride? Why is my verse so barren of new pride? So far from variation or quick change? Why with the time do I not glance aside To new-found methods, and to compounds strange? Why write I still all one, ever the same, And keep invention in a noted weed, That every word doth almost tell my […]...
- Ode to the Memory of Burns Soul of the Poet! wheresoe’er, Reclaimed from earth, thy genius plume Her wings of immortality ; Suspend thy harp in happier sphere, And with thine influence illume The gladness of our jubilee. And fly like fiends from secret spell, Discord and Strife, at Burn’s name, Exorcised by his memory ; For he was chief of […]...
- 247. Ode, Sacred to the Memory of Mrs. Oswald of Auchencruive DWELLER in yon dungeon dark, Hangman of creation! mark, Who in widow-weeds appears, Laden with unhonour’d years, Noosing with care a bursting purse, Baited with many a deadly curse? STROPHE View the wither’d Beldam’s face; Can thy keen inspection trace Aught of Humanity’s sweet, melting grace? Note that eye, ’tis rheum o’erflows; Pity’s flood there […]...
- Sonnet XLII: Some Men There Be Some men there be which like my method well And much commend the strangeness of my vein; Some say I have a passing pleasing strain; Some say that im my humor I excel; Some, who not kindly relish my conceit, They say, as poets do, I use to feign, And in bare words paint out […]...
- The Faces of Memory DREAM faces bloom around your face Like flowers upon one stem; The heart of many a vanished race Sighs as I look on them. The sun rich face of Egypt glows, The eyes of Eire brood, With whom the golden Cyprian shows In lovely sisterhood. Your tree of life put forth these flowers In ages […]...
- Sonnet 54: O, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem O, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem By that sweet ornament which truth doth give! The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem For that sweet odour which doth in it live. The canker blooms have full as deep a dye As the perfumèd tincture of the roses, Hang on such thorns, and […]...
- To try to speak, and miss the way To try to speak, and miss the way And ask it of the Tears, Is Gratitude’s sweet poverty, The Tatters that he wears A better Coat if he possessed Would help him to conceal, Not subjugate, the Mutineer Whose title is “the Soul.”...
- Sonnet Not with vain tears, when we’re beyond the sun, We’ll beat on the substantial doors, nor tread Those dusty high-roads of the aimless dead Plaintive for Earth; but rather turn and run Down some close-covered by-way of the air, Some low sweet alley between wind and wind, Stoop under faint gleams, thread the shadows, find […]...
- The Comet at Valbury or Yell'ham I It bends far over Yell’ham Plain, And we, from Yell’ham Height, Stand and regard its fiery train, So soon to swim from sight. II It will return long years hence, when As now its strange swift shine Will fall on Yell’ham; but not then On that sweet form of thine....
- 312. Elegy on the late Miss Burnet of Monboddo LIFE ne’er exulted in so rich a prize, As Burnet, lovely from her native skies; Nor envious death so triumph’d in a blow, As that which laid th’ accomplish’d Burnet low. Thy form and mind, sweet maid, can I forget? In richest ore the brightest jewel set! In thee, high Heaven above was truest shown, […]...
- 387. Epigram on Miss Fontenelle SWEET naïveté of feature, Simple, wild, enchanting elf, Not to thee, but thanks to Nature, Thou art acting but thyself. Wert thou awkward, stiff, affected, Spurning Nature, torturing art; Loves and Graces all rejected, Then indeed thou’d’st act a part....
- Sonnet XVIII: Why Art Thou Chang'd? Why art thou chang’d? O Phaon! tell me why? Love flies reproach, when passion feels decay; Or, I would paint the raptures of that day, When, in sweet converse, mingling sigh with sigh, I mark’d the graceful languor of thine eye As on a shady bank entranc’d we lay: O! Eyes! whose beamy radiance stole […]...
- The Advice Revolving in their destin’d sphere, The hours begin another year As rapidly to fly; Ah! think, Maria, (e’er in grey Those auburn tresses fade away So youth and beauty die. Tho’ now the captivating throng Adore with flattery and song, And all before you bow; Whilst unattentive to the strain, You hear the humble muse […]...
- Sonnet XXXV: What Means the Mist What means the mist opaque that veils these eyes; Why does yon threat’ning tempest shroud the day? Why does thy altar, Venus, fade away, And on my breast the dews of horror rise? Phaon is false! be dim ye orient Skies; And let black Erebus succeed your ray; Let clashing thunders roll, and lightning play; […]...
- Ave Maria Gratia Plena Was this His coming! I had hoped to see A scene of wondrous glory, as was told Of some great God who in a rain of gold Broke open bars and fell on Danae: Or a dread vision as when Semele Sickening for love and unappeased desire Prayed to see God’s clear body, and the […]...
- Elegy to the Memory of Richard Boyle, Esq NEAR yon bleak mountain’s dizzy height, That hangs o’er AVON’s silent wave; By the pale Crescent’s glimm’ring light, I sought LORENZO’s lonely grave. O’er the long grass the silv’ry dew, Soft Twilight’s tears spontaneous shone; And the dank bough of baneful yew Supply’d the place of sculptured stone. Oft, as my trembling steps drew near, […]...
- 255. Verses to Miss Cruickshank BEAUTEOUS Rosebud, young and gay, Blooming in thy early May, Never may’st thou, lovely flower, Chilly shrink in sleety shower! Never Boreas’ hoary path, Never Eurus’ pois’nous breath, Never baleful stellar lights, Taint thee with untimely blights! Never, never reptile thief Riot on thy virgin leaf! Nor even Sol too fiercely view Thy bosom blushing […]...
- Queen Henrietta Maria (To Ellen Terry) In the lone tent, waiting for victory, She stands with eyes marred by the mists of pain, Like some wan lily overdrenched with rain: The clamorous clang of arms, the ensanguined sky, War’s ruin, and the wreck of chivalry To her proud soul no common fear can bring: Bravely she tarrieth for […]...
- To The Memory Of Mr Oldham Farewell, too little and too lately known, Whom I began to think and call my own; For sure our souls were near allied, and thine Cast in the same poetic mould with mine. One common note on either lyre did strike, And knaves and fools we both abhorred alike. To the same goal did both […]...
- Sonnet to Evening [Written under a tree in the woods of St. Amand, in Flanders.] SWEET BALMY HOUR! dear to the pensive mind, Oft have I watch’d thy dark and weeping shade, Oft have I hail’d thee in the dewy glade, And drop’d a tear of SYMPATHY refin’d. When humming bees, hid in their golden bow’rs, Sip the […]...
- Sancta Maria, Succurre Miseris Dear Virgin Mary, far away, Look down from Heaven while I pray. Open your golden casement high, And lean way out beyond the sky. I am so little, it may be A task for you to harken me. O Lady Mary, I have bought A candle, as the good priest taught. I only had one […]...
- Sonnet 38 – First time he kissed me, he but only kissed First time he kissed me, he but only kissed The fingers of this hand wherewith I write; And ever since, it grew more clean and white, Slow to world-greetings, quick with its ‘Oh, list,’ When the angels speak. A ring of amethyst I could not wear here, plainer to my sight, Than that first kiss. […]...
- In Memory of F. P If I could ever write a lasting verse, It should be laid, deare Sainte, upon thy herse. But Sorrow is no muse, and doth confesse That it least can what most it would expresse. Yet, that I may some bounds to griefe allow, I’le try if I can weepe in numbers now. Ah beauteous blossom! […]...
- Elegy to the Memory of Werter “With female Fairies will thy tomb be haunted “And worms will not come to thee.” SHAKSPERE. WHEN from Day’s closing eye the lucid tears Fall lightly on the bending lily’s head; When o’er the blushing sky night’s curtains spread, And the tall mountain’s summit scarce appears; When languid Evening, sinking to repose, Her filmy mantle […]...
- A Memory YOU remember, dear, together Two children, you and I, Sat once in the autumn weather, Watching the autumn sky. There was some one round us straying The whole of the long day through, Who seemed to say, “I am playing At hide and seek with you.” And one thing after another Was whispered out of […]...
- Sonnet III THe souerayne beauty which I doo admyre, Witnesse the world how worthy to be prayzed: The light wherof hath kindled heauenly iyre, In my fraile spirit by her from basenesse raysed. That being now with her huge brightnesse dazed, Base thing I can no more endure to view: But looking still on her I stand […]...
- 459. Sonnet on the Death of Robert Riddell NO more, ye warblers of the wood! no more; Nor pour your descant grating on my soul; Thou young-eyed Spring! gay in thy verdant stole, More welcome were to me grim Winter’s wildest roar. How can ye charm, ye flowers, with all your dyes? Ye blow upon the sod that wraps my friend! How can […]...
- Belphegor Addressed To Miss De Chammelay YOUR name with ev’ry pleasure here I place, The last effusions of my muse to grace. O charming Phillis! may the same extend Through time’s dark night: our praise together blend; To this we surely may pretend to aim Your acting and my rhymes attention claim. Long, long in mem’ry’s page your fame shall live; […]...
- 395. Sonnet on the Author's Birthday SING on, sweet thrush, upon the leafless bough, Sing on, sweet bird, I listen to thy strain, See aged Winter, ‘mid his surly reign, At thy blythe carol, clears his furrowed brow. So in lone Poverty’s dominion drear, Sits meek Content with light, unanxious heart; Welcomes the rapid moments, bids them part, Nor asks if […]...