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THE SISTERS; A BALLAD, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: I go, sweet sister! Yet,my heart would linger
Last Line: Where the world's voice can reach no more! Oh. Calm thee! -- fare thee well!
Alternate Author Name(s): Browne, Felicia Dorothea
Subject(s): Sisters


"I GO, sweet sister! yet, my heart would linger with thee fain,
And unto every parting gift some deep remembrance chain:
Take, then, the braid of Eastern pearls which once I loved to wear,
And with it bind for festal scenes the dark waves of thy hair!
Its pale, pure brightness will beseem those raven tresses well,
And I shall need such pomp no more in my lone convent-cell."

"Oh, speak not thus, my Leonor! why part from kindred love?
Through festive scenes, when thou art gone, my steps no more shall move!
How could I bear a lonely heart amid a reckless throng?
I should but miss earth's dearest voice in every tone of song.
Keep, keep the braid of Eastern pearls, or let me proudly twine
Its wreath once more around that brow, that queenly brow of thine."

"Oh, wouldst thou strive a wounded bird from shelter to detain?
Or wouldst thou call a spirit freed to weary life again?
Sweet sister! take the golden cross that I have worn so long,
And bathed with many a burning tear for secret woe and wrong.
It could not still my beating heart! but may it be a sign
Of peace and hope, my gentle one! when meekly pressed to thine.

"Take back, take back the cross of gold, our mother's gift to thee --
It would but of this parting hour a bitter token be;
With funeral splendour to mine eye, it would but sadly shine,
And tell of early treasures lost, of joy no longer mine.
O sister! if thy heart be thus with buried grief oppressed,
Where wouldst thou pour it forth so well as on my faithful breast?

"Urge me no more! A blight hath fallen upon my summer years!
I should but darken thy young life with fruitless pangs and fears.
But take at least the lute I loved, and guard it for my sake,
And sometimes from its silvery strings one tone of memory wake!
Sing to those chords by starlight's gleam our own sweet vesper-hymn
And think that I too chant it then, far in my cloister dim."

"Yes! I will take the silvery lute -- and I will sing to thee
A song we heard in childhood's days, even from our father's knee.
O sister! sister! are these notes amid forgotten things?
Do they not linger as in love, on the familiar strings?
Seems not our sainted mother's voice to murmur in the strain?
Kind sister! gentlest Leonor! say shall it plead in vain?"

SONG.

"Leave us not, leave us not!
Say not adieu!
Have we not been to thee
Tender and true?

Take not thy sunny smile
Far from our hearth!
With that sweet light will fade
Summer and mirth.

"Leave us not, leave us not!
Can thy heart roam?
Wilt thou not pine to hear
Voices from home?

"Too sad our love would be
If thou wert gone!
Turn to us, leave us not!
Thou art our own!"

"O sister! hush that thrilling lute! -- oh, cease that haunting lay!
Too deeply pierce those wild, sweet notes -- yet, yet I cannot stay:
For weary, weary is my heart! I hear a whispered call
In every breeze that stirs the leaf and bids the blossom fall.
I cannot breathe in freedom here, my spirit pines to dwell
Where the world's voice can reach no more! Oh. calm thee! -- Fare thee well!





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