A Thought: Suggested by the Death of Fanny Kemble

THE soul of Man, evolving more and more
Life’s deeper meaning, slights the outer round
Of mere display. The thrill that tells the ground
Spring is above and Winter’s bondage o’er,
The melodies that ripple on the shore,
Awake emotions stormy and profound
As in the savage breast the thunderous sound
Of avalanches, or the earthquake’s roar.
Thus she in whom men’s memories rejoice
Forsook the mimic stage, nor could endure
The noisy mockeries that so arouse
The raptures of the mob. — In that one voice
More sweetly sang the birds on Arden’s boughs,
More fiercely raged the madness of the Moor.
John Hall Ingham.