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Christmas at the hall

Chapter 54: Lines Suggested by a Review in the “Hull Packet.”
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About This Book

This collection presents a sequence of poems built around a framing Christmas family gathering that links diverse shorter pieces; it moves between domestic sketches, seasonal and religious meditations, elegies and occasional tributes. Maritime landscapes and coastal scenes appear alongside reflective night musings, sonnets and ballads, while personal aspiration toward the poetic calling recurs in a few direct addresses. The verse varies in metre and tone, alternating descriptive natural imagery, moral and devotional reflection, and narrative fragments, producing an earnest, uneven but sincere portrait of a nineteenth-century poet testing his powers across themes of home, nature, loss, and hope.

Lines
Suggested by a Review in the “Hull Packet.”

I bear a hope that I may yet become
A bard not fameless—but, oh, be that fame
The meed for songs, whose melody is taught
To sweetly warble the Creator’s praise,
To tell of virtue, happiness, and truth,
And seek the good of man! A laurel wreath
To me seems brighter than a crown of gold,
The diadem of monarchs; and my hand
Would rather strike the silver-chorded lyre
Than wield a kingly sceptre. From above
All power descends, all talents are derived,
And if the Great Disposer give me skill
I shall out-reach my highest fondest hope;
If he deny—my aspiration’s vain,
My harp is tuneless, and my tongue is mute.
To Thee, O God, I lift mine orison,
And would implore, with deep humility,
Thy blessing. May my labours and mine aim
Prove no abortion, but repay with fruit;
And, above all things, may thy Spirit dwell
Within my heart, form it to purity,
And sanctify it as thine own abode.

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