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Voicework of CloudMountain Alan Drake
Update: 3/25/07 at 4:00 PM
Sarah Helen Whitman (1803 - 1878)
To
Vainly my heart had with thy sorceries striven:
It had no refuge from thy love,no Heaven
But in thy fatal presence;from afar
It owned thy power and trembled like a star
Oerfraught with light and splendor. Could I deem
How dark a shadow should obscure its beam?
Could I believe that pain could ever dwell
Where thy bright presence cast its blissful spell?
Thou wert my proud palladium;could I fear
The avenging Destinies when thou wert near?
Thou wert my Destiny;thy song, thy fame,
The wild enchantments clustering round thy name,
Were my souls heritage, its royal dower;
Its glory and its kingdom and its power!
from Poems, published by Houghton, Osgood & Co, Boston, in 1879.
To Edgar Allen Poe
If thy sad heart, pining for human love,
In its earth solitude grew dark with fear,
Lest the high Sun of Heaven itself should prove
Powerless to save from that phantasmal sphere
Wherein thy spirit wandered, -- if the flowers
That pressed around thy feet, seemed but to bloom
In lone Gethsemanes, through starless hours,
When all who loved had left thee to thy doom,--
Oh, yet believe that in that hollow vale
Where thy soul lingers, waiting to attain
So much of Heaven's sweet grace as shall avail
To lift its burden of remorseful pain,
My soul shall meet thee, and its Heaven forego
Till God's great love, on both, one hope, one Heaven bestow.
from The Little Book of American Poets: 1787-1900, published ib 1915 by Riverside Press, Cambridge and edited by Jessie B. Rittenhouse