# Felicia Hemans in The New Monthly Magazine Volume 31 1831/The Sisters

The New Monthly Magazine, Volume 31, Pages 125-126
THE SISTERS.
————————"We grew together,
Like to a double cherry, seeming parted,
But yet a union in partition;
Two lovely berries moulded on one stem;
So with two seeming bodies, but one heart:
And will you rend our ancient love asunder?"
Midsummer Night's Dream.
"I go, sweet sister! yet my love would linger with thee fain,
And unto every parting gift some deep remembrance chain:
Take then the braid of Eastern pearl, that 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 the lone convent-cell."
"Oh! sister, sister! wherefore thus?—why part from kindred love?
Through festal scenes, when thou art gone, my step no more shall move.
How could I bear a lonely heart amidst a reckless throng?
I should but miss Earth's dearest voice in every tone of song!
Keep, keep the braid of Eastern pearl! or let me proudly twine
Its wreath once more around that brow, that queenly brow of thine!"
"Oh! wouldst thou seek 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 bath'd 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 press'd 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 eyes it would but sadly shine,
And tell of early treasure lost, of joy no longer mine!
Oh! sister! if thy heart be thus with voiceless grief oppress'd,
Where couldst thou pour it forth so well as on my faithful breast?"
"Urge me no more!—a blight hath fall'n upon mine alter'd years,
I should but darken thy young life with sleepless pangs and fears!
But take, at least, the lute I loved, and guard it for my sake,
And sometimes from the silvery strings one tone of memory wake!
Sing to those chords, in starlight hours, our own sweet Vesper-hymn,
And think that I, too, chaunt 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, ev'n from our father's knee!
Oh! listen, listen! are those notes amidst 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!"
"Oh sister! thou hast won me back!—too many fond thoughts lie
In every soft, spring-breathing tone of that old melody!
I cannot, cannot leave thee now! ev'n though my grief should fall
As a shadow o'er the pageantries that crowd our ancient hall!
But take me, clasp me to thine arms—I will not mourn my lot,
Whilst love like thine remains on earth—I leave, I leave thee not!"
F. H.