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1809–1893

TO MRS. — -

Fanny Kemble

I never shall forget thee —‘ tis a word Thou oft must hear, for surely there be none On whom thy wond'rous eyes have ever shone But for a moment, or who e'er have heard

Thy voice's deep impassioned melody, Can lose the memory of that look or tone. But, not as these, do I say unto thee, I never shall forget thee:— in thine eyes,

Whose light, like sunshine, makes the world rejoice, A stream of sad and solemn splendour lies; And there is sorrow in thy gentle voice. Thou art not like the scenes in which I found thee,

Thou art not like the beings that surround thee; To me, thou art a dream of hope and fear; Yet why of fear?— oh sure! the Power that lent Such gifts, to make thee fair, and excellent;

Still watches one whom it has deigned to bless With such a dower of grace and loveliness; Over the dangerous waves‘ twill surely steer The richly freighted bark, through storm and blast,

And guide it safely to the port at last. Such is my prayer;‘ tis warm as ever fell From off my lips: accept it, and farewell! And though in this strange world where first I met thee;

We meet no more — I never shall forget thee.

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TO MRS. — - · Fanny Kemble · Poetry Cove