Penny Dreadfuls, 1812 · page 223 of 258
Psyche, and other poems — page 223: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Page 203 of Victorian Penny Dreadful This is a page of running verse poetry, numbered 203, appearing mid-narrative in a serialized work. The text is a melancholic meditation on loss and death: it describes a woman who suffered the sudden death of her beloved brother during a moment of happiness, mourned him for years bearing her grief silently, and now both rest in peaceful afterlife awaiting eternal bliss. The poem shifts to extended metaphor, comparing her to a blighted young tree that, despite careful tending by friendship, cannot revive—its withered branches producing no new growth. The passage concludes by addressing someone named Sydney, suggesting their devoted care may yet offer some solace.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
203 In playful love, crushed by the sudden storm, — And swept to dark oblivion, mid the wreck Of greater hopes !—Even while she thought of bliss, Already o’er that darling brother’s head = The death-commissioned angel noiseless waved His black and heavy wings: and though she mourned. That stroke, in pious sorrow, many a year, Yet, even then, the life-consuming shaft in her chaste breast she uncomplaining bore. Now, both at rest, in blessed peacefulness, With no impatient hope, regret, or doubt, Await that full completion of the bliss Which their more perfect spirits shall receive. Fair blossomed her young tree, effusing sweet its aromatic breath ; for other eyes Blushed the soft folded buds, and other hands» Pruned its luxuriant branches : friendship stil} Preserved the fond memorial; nay, even yet Would fain preserve with careful tenderness The blighted relic of what once it loved. Hard were the wintry hours felt even here ~ Amid these green protecting walls, and late The timid Spring, oft chilled and rudely checked, At last unveiled her tenderest charms, and smiled With radiant blushes on her amorous train : But no reviving gale, no fruitful dew, Visits the brown parched leaf, or from the stem, The withering stem, elicits the young shoots With hopes of life and beauty, yet thy care Perhaps, dear Sydney, thine assiduous care connicloooks.comnn