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1809–1893

SONNET.

Fanny Kemble

But to be still! oh, but to cease awhile The panting breath and hurrying steps of life, The sights, the sounds, the struggle, and the strife Of hourly being; the sharp biting file

Of action, fretting on the tightened chain Of rough existence; all that is not pain, But utter weariness; oh! to be free But for a while from conscious entity!

To shut the banging doors and windows wide, Of restless sense, and let the soul abide Darkly and stilly, for a little space, Gathering its strength up to pursue the race;

Oh, Heavens! to rest a moment, but to rest From this quick, gasping life, were to be blest!

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SONNET. · Fanny Kemble · Poetry Cove