Poet of the Month 105: ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER

 

ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER

1825 – 1864 

 

 

 

 

ENVY

 

 

He was the first always: Fortune

    Shone bright in his face.

I fought for years; with no effort

    He conquered the place:

We ran; my feet were all bleeding,

    But he won the race.

 

Spite of his many successes,

    Men loved him the same;

My one pale ray of good fortune

    Met scoffing and blame.

When we erred, they gave him pity,

    But me — only shame.

 

My home was still in the shadow,

    His lay in the sun:

I longed in vain: what he asked for

    It straightway was done.

Once I staked all my heart's treasure,

    We played — and he won. 

 

Yes; and just now I have seen him,

    Cold, smiling, and blest,

Laid in his coffin. God help me!

    While he is at rest,

I am cursed still to live: — even

    Death loved him the best.

 

 

 

Legends and Lyrics

1858

 

 

 

 

 

Use the link below to read about the life and work of British poet and social reformer ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER:

 

 

 

https://minorvictorianwriters.org.uk/procter/index.htm

 

 

 

 

 

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