Written among the Ruins of the Sonnenberg


Thou who within thyself dost not behold
Ruins as great as these, though not as old,
Canst scarce through life have travelled many a year,
Or lack'st the spirit of a pilgrim here.
Youth hath its walls of strength, its towers of pride,
Love, its warm hearth-stones, hope, its prospects wide,
Life's fortress in thee, held these one and all,
And they have fallen to ruin, or shall fall.

More verses by Frances Anne Kemble