A Tale of Tuscany (Oscar Fay Adams Poems)
An Old-World tale. Who reads perchanceMay deem it dull or idly told,Preferring latter-day romanceWhere well trained hearts their loves unfold.Tuscany, ...
An Old-World tale. Who reads perchanceMay deem it dull or idly told,Preferring latter-day romanceWhere well trained hearts their loves unfold.Tuscany, ...
Only you'd have me speak. Whether to speakOr whether to be silent is all one;Whether to sleep and in my dreaming ...
PreludeI sing the Pilgrim of a softer climeAnd milder speech than those brave men's who broughtTo the ice and iron ...
A milk-white Hind, immortal and unchanged,Fed on the lawns, and in the forest ranged;Without unspotted, innocent within,She feared no danger, ...
I.Ah! who can tell how hard it is to climbThe steep where Fame's proud temple shines afar!Ah! who can tell ...
SCENE 1.-PROLOGUE IN HEAVEN. THE LORD AND THE HOST OF HEAVEN. ENTER THREE ARCHANGELS.RAPHAEL:The sun makes music as of oldAmid ...
IN IMITATION OF SPENCER.CANTO I.'MID Cambria's hills a lowly cottage stood,Circled with mossy tufts of sombre green;A vagrant brook flow'd ...
I.St. Agnes' Eve--Ah, bitter chill it was! The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold; The hare limp'd trembling through the frozen ...
There is a tide in men's affairs,Leading to fame not wholly theirs —Leading to high positions, wonThrough noble deeds by ...
All is well-in a prison-to-night, and the warders are crying 'All's Well!'I must speak, for the sake of my heart-if ...
Of Mr George Ruthven the tears and mournings,Amidst the giddie course of fortune's turnings,Upon his dear friend's death, Mr John ...
--A COSTLY good ; that none e'er bought or soldFor gem, or pearl, or miser's store, twice told :Save certain ...
While ripening corn grew thick and deep,And here and there men stood to reap,One morn I put my heart to ...
Love in a hut, with water and a crust,Is-Love, forgive us!-cinders, ashes, dust;Love in a palace is perhaps at lastMore ...
That you're a beast, and turn'd to grass,Is no strange news, nor ever was;At least to me, who once you ...
To Thee, my Snape, in these Reforming Times,Grateful, we send our Blessing and our Rimes.Odd it may seem for Us, ...
NEAR to the bank of the river, o'ershadowed by oaks, from whose branchesGarlands of Spanish moss and of mystic mistletoe ...
By chapel bare, with walls sea-beatThe lichened urns in wilds are lostAbout a carved memorial stoneThat shows, decayed and coral-mossed,A ...
'She shall marry me yet,' he smiling said -Smiling, and under his breath - but redAs flame his dark cheek ...
Still let low wits, who sense nor honour prize,Sneer at all gratitude, all truth disguise;At living worth, because alive, exclaim,Insult ...
While the fierce Contest rages from afar,And hostile Pamphlets breathe alternate War:The carnal Priests at ev'ry Shock o'erthrown,Now trust to ...
. IN THE BACKS. As I was strolling lonely in the Backs, I met a woman whom I did not like. I did not like the way the woman walked: Loose-hipped, big-boned, disjointed, angular. If her anatomy comprised a waist, I did not notice it: she had a face With eyes and lips adjusted thereunto, But round her mouth no pleasing shadows stirred, Nor did her eyes invite a second glance. Her dress was absolutely colourless, Devoid of taste or shape or character; Her boots were rather old, and rather large, And rather shabby, not precisely matched. Her hair was very far from beautiful And not abundant: she had such a hat As neither merits nor expects remark. She was not clever, I am very sure, Nor witty nor amusing: well-informed She may have been, and kind, perhaps, of heart; But gossip was writ plain upon her face. And so she stalked her dull unthinking way; Or, if she thought of anything, it was That such a one had got a second class, Or Mrs So-and-So a second child. I did not want to see that girl again: I did not like her: and I should not mind If she were done away with, killed, or ploughed. She did not seem to serve a useful end: And certainly she was not beautiful.. ON THE KING'S PARADE. As I was waiting for the tardy tram, I met what purported to be a man. What seemed to pass for its material frame, The semblance of a suit of clothes had on, Fit emblem of the grand sartorial art And worthy of a more sublime abode. Its coat and waistcoat were of weird design Adapted to the fashion's latest whim. I think it wore an Athenæum tie. White flannels draped its too ethereal limbs And in its vacant eye there glared a glass. In vain for this poor derelict of flesh, Void of the spirit it was built to house, Have classic poets tuned their deathless lyre, Astute historians fingered mouldering sheets And reared a palace of sententious truth. In vain has y been added unto x, In vain the mighty decimal unrolled, Which strives indefinitely to be π In vain the palpitating frog has groaned Beneath the licensed knife: in vain for this The surreptitious corpse been disinterred And forced, amid the disinfectant fumes, To yield its secrets to philosophy. In vain the stress and storm of politics Beat round this empty head: in vain the priest Pronounces loud anathemas: the fool In vain remarks upon the fact that God Is missing in the world of his belief. Vain are the problems whether space, or time, Or force, or matter can be said to be: Vain are the mysteries of Melchisedec, And vain Methuselah's unusual years. It had a landlady I make no doubt; A friend or two as vacant as itself; A kitchen-bill; a thousand cigarettes; A dog which knew it for the fool it was. Perhaps it was a member of the Union, Who votes as often as he does not speak, And "recommends" as wildly as he spells. Its income was as much beyond its merits As less than its inane expenditure. Its conversation stood to common sense As stands the Sporting Times (its favourite print) To wit or humour. It was seldom drunk, But seldom sober when it went to bed. The mean contents of these superior clothes Were they but duly trained by careful hands, And castigated with remorseless zeal, Endowed with purpose, gifted with a mind, And taught to work, or play, or talk, or laugh, Might possibly aspire—I do not know— To pass, in time, for what they dare to scorn, An ordinary undergraduate. What did this thing crawling 'twixt heaven and earth, Amid the network of our grimy streets? What end was it intended to subserve, What lowly mission fashioned to neglect? It did not seem to wish for a degree, And what its object was I do not know, Unless it was to catch the tardy tram. (James Kenneth Stephen)
'Twas said, by those of old, Beware,Consider well before you swear.The Counsel's good without dispute,And ev'ry prudent Man will do't.But, ...
I At any moment love unheraldedComes, and is king. Then as, with a fallOf frost, the buds upon the hawthorn ...
Down into the darkness at last, Daniel,--down into the darkness at last;Laid in ...
TO E. W.I KNOW not, Time and Space so intervene,Whether, still waiting with a trust serene,Thou bearest up thy fourscore ...
AN EPISTLE NOT AFTER THE MANNER OF HORACEOld friend, kind friend! lightly downDrop time's snow-flakes on thy crown!Never be thy ...
Harvest awakes the morning stillAnd toils rude groups the valleys fillDeserted is each cottage hearthTo all life save the crickets ...
Ev'ry dusk eye in Madrid,Flash'd blue 'neath its lid;As the cry and the clamour ran round,"The king has been crown'd!And ...
UNDER the great hill sloping bareTo cove and meadow and Common lot,In his council chamber and oaken chair,Sat the worshipful ...
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