| Alfred H. Miles, ed. Women Poets of the Nineteenth Century. 1907. | | | Poems.
XIII. “Lady, whom my Belovèd Loves” | | By Frances Anne Kemble (1809–1893) |
| | | LADY, whom my belovèd loves so well! | |
| When on his clasping arm thy head reclineth, | |
| When on thy lips his ardent kisses dwell, | |
| And the bright flood of burning light, that shineth | |
| In his dark eyes, is pourèd into thine; | 5 |
| When thou shalt lie enfolded to his heart, | |
| In all the trusting helplessness of love; | |
| If in such joy sorrow can find a part, | |
| Oh, give one sigh unto a doom like mine! | |
| Which I would have thee pity, but not prove. | 10 |
| One cold, calm, careless, wintry look, that fell | |
| Haply by chance on me, is all that he | |
| E’er gave my love; round that, my wild thoughts dwell | |
| In one eternal pang of memory. | | | | |
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