Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE IMAGE IN THE HEART by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS

Poet Analysis

First Line: I CALL THEE BLEST! - THOUGH NOW THE VOICE BE FLED
Last Line: THINE STILL IN HEAVEN!
Subject(s): DEATH; LOVE; DEAD, THE;
I CALL thee blessed! -- though now the voice be fled
Which to thy soul brought dayspring with its tone,
And o'er the gentle eyes though dust be spread,
Eyes that ne'er looked on thine but light was thrown
Far through thy breast;

And though the music of thy life be broken,
Or changed in every chord, since he is gone,
Feeling all this, even yet, by many a token,
O thou, the deeply, but the brightly lone!
I call thee blessed!

For in thy heart there is a holy spot,
As 'mid the waste an Isle of fount and palm,
Forever green! -- the world's breath enters not,
The passion-tempests may not break its calm;
'Tis thine, all thine!

Thither, in trust unbaffled, mayest thou turn
From bitter words, cold greetings, heartless eyes,
Quenching thy soul's thirst at the hidden urn
That, filled with waters of sweet memory, lies
In its own shrine.

Thou hast thy home! -- there is no power in change
To reach that temple of the past; no sway,
In all time brings of sudden, dark, or strange,
To sweep the still transparent peace away
From its hushed air!

And oh! that glorious image of the dead!
Sole thing whereon a deathless love may rest,
And in deep faith and dreamy worship shed
Its high gifts fearlessly! -- I call thee blessed.
If only there.

Blessed for the beautiful within thee dwelling
Never to fade! -- a refuge from distrust,
A spring of purer life, still freshly welling,
To clothe the barrenness of earthly dust
With flowers divine.

And thou hast been beloved! -- it is no dream,
No false mirage for thee, the fervent love.
The rainbow still unreached, the ideal gleam,
That ever seems before, beyond, above,
Far off to shine.

But thou, from all the daughters of the earth
Singled and marked, hast known its home and place;
And the high memory of its holy worth,
To this our life a glory and a grace
For thee hath given.

And art thou not still fondly, truly loved?
Thou art! -- the love his spirit bore away
Was not for death! -- a treasure but removed,
A bright bird parted for a clearer day, --
Thine still in heaven!



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