| Alfred H. Miles, ed. Women Poets of the Nineteenth Century. 1907. | | | Poems.
XI. “One after One, the Shield, the Sword, the Spear” | | By Frances Anne Kemble (1809–1893) |
| | | ONE after one, the shield, the sword, the spear, | |
| The panoply that I was wont to wear, | |
| My suit of proof, my wings that kept me free, | |
| These, full of trust, delivered I to thee, | |
| When, through all time, I swore that by thy side | 5 |
| I would henceforward walk:—I since have tried, | |
| In hours of sadness, when my former life | |
| Shone on me through thick gathering clouds of strife, | |
| To wield my weapons bright, and wear again | |
| My maiden corslet and free wings—in vain! | 10 |
| My hands have lost their strength and skill—my breast, | |
| Beneath my mail throbs with a wild unrest; | |
| My pinions trail upon the earth—my soul, | |
| Quails ’neath the heavy spell of thy control. | |
| All that was living of my life seems fled, | 15 |
| My mortal part alone is not yet dead. | |
| But since my nobler gifts have all been thine, | |
| Trophies, or sacrifices for thy shrine, | |
| Pierce not the breast that stripped itself for thee | |
| Of the fair means God gave it to be free; | 20 |
| Have yet some pity, and forbear to strike | |
| One without power to strive, or fly alike, | |
| Nor trample on a heart, which now must be | |
| Towards all defenceless—most of all towards thee. | | | | |
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