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Ada Cambridge's Poetry, by title

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  • Before me now a little picture lies—
        A little shadow of a childish face,
    53 lines
  • A Meditation in the British Museum.
    I say it to myself--in meekest awe
    63 lines
  • Numb, half asleep, and dazed with whirl of wheels,
    And gasp of steam, and measured clank of chains,
    424 lines
  • Spirit and Breath of Life, whate'er Thy name!
    Bear with Thy creature, Man,
    36 lines
  • Midsummer, 1867.
    We have heard many sermons, you and I,
    74 lines
  • O sweet darkness, still, and calm, and lonely!
    Spread thy downy pinions round about.
    16 lines
  • An evening all aglow with summer light
    And autumn colour--fairest of the year.
    399 lines
  • Another mile--a year
    Pass'd by for ever! And the warnings swell
    44 lines
  • Blessed are they whose baby-souls are bright,
    Whose brows are sealèd with the cross of light,
    44 lines
  • "But they are at peace."
    Never to weary more, nor suffer sorrow,--
    33 lines
  • I.
    AS flower to sun its drop of dew
    129 lines
  • Low on her little stool she sits
    To make a nursing lap,
    72 lines
  • Late, late, the prize is drawn, the goal attained,
    The Heart's Desire fulfilled, Love's guerdon gained.
    36 lines, 1 comment
  • When the investing darkness growls,
    And deep reverberates to deep;
    63 lines
  • Come, go and practise--get your work--
    Do something, Nelly, pray.
    96 lines
  • So still--so still! Only the endless sighing
    Of sad Æolian harp-notes overhead;
    42 lines
  • Calm as that moonbeam on the wall,
    Sleep broods on baby's eyes;
    32 lines
  • One hour ago the crimson sun, that seemed so long a-drowning, sank.
    The summer day is all but done. Our boat is moored beneath the b
    78 lines
  • Ah, 'twas but now I saw the sun flush pink on yonder placid tide;
    The purple hill-tops, one by one, were strangely lit and glorified;
    57 lines
  • Is it a virtue, as the sages say,
    The "trivial round and common task" to ply,
    14 lines
  • Those anguished voices in the air!
    Oh, I could shriek and tear my hair
    15 lines, 6 comments
  • When I kneel down the dawn is only breaking;
    Sleep fetters still the brown wings of the lark;
    40 lines
  • "On board the Petrel, in St. Lucia's bay,
    Of yellow fever--aged twenty-nine."
    97 lines
  • Bright eyes, sweet lips, with many fevers fill
    The young blood, running wildly, as it must;
    15 lines, 1 comment
  • Alone! Alone! No beacon, far or near!
    No chart, no compass, and no anchor stay!
    14 lines
  • The filthy beast! And is he here again,
    With his foul slobbering mouth and shuffling feet,
    14 lines
  • Can this be my poem?--this poor fragment
    Of bald thought in meanest language dressed!
    48 lines
  • The sun has set; grey shadows darken slowly
    The rose-red cloud-hills that were bathed in light
    36 lines
  • And is the great cause lost beyond recall?
    Have all the hopes of ages come to naught?
    14 lines
  • See those resplendent creatures, as they glide
    O'er scarlet carpet, between footmen tall,
    15 lines
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