Amelia Opie Poems
|42.||While Many A Fond And Blooming Maid||4/21/2010|
|43.||Yes, Mary Ann||1/3/2003|
|44.||Yes, Thou Art Changed Since First We Met||4/21/2010|
|45.||You Ask Why These Mountains||4/21/2010|
Not one kind look....one friendly word!
Wilt thou in chilling silence sit;
Nor through the social hour afford
One cheering smile, or beam of wit?
Yet still, absorbed in studious care,
Neglect to waste one look on me;
For then my happy eyes may dare
To gaze and dwell unchecked on thee.
And still in silence sit, nor deign
One gentle precious word to say;
For silent I may then remain,
Nor let my voice my soul betray.
This faltering voice, these conscious eyes,
My throbbing heart too plainly speak:
There timid hopeless passion lies,
Ode To Borrowdale
Hail , Derwent's beauteous pride!
Whose charms rough rocks in threatening grandeur guard,
Whose entrance seems to mortals barred,
But to the Genius of the storm thrown wide.
He on thy rock's dread height,
Reclined beneath his canopy of clouds,