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“Well,” murmured one, “let whoso make or buy, My Clay with long Oblivion is gone dry;
But fill me with the old familiar Juice, Methinks I might recover by and by.”
So while the Vessels one by one were speaking,
And then they jogged each other, “Brother! Brother! Now for the Porter's shoulder-knot a-creaking!”
Ah, with the Grape my fading Life provide,
And lay me, shrouded in the living Leaf,
That even my buried Ashes such a snare
As not a True-believer passing by
Indeed the Idols I have loved so long
Have drowned my Glory in a shallow Cup,
Indeed, indeed, Repentance oft before
And then, and then came Spring, and Rose-in-hand
And much as Wine has played the Infidel,
I often wonder what the Vintners buy
Yet Ah, that Spring should vanish with the Rose!
The Nightingale that in the branches sang,
Would but the Desert of the Fountain yield
To which the fainting Traveler might spring,
Would but some winged Angel ere too late
And make the stern Recorder otherwise
Ah Love! could you and I with Him conspire
Would not we shatter it to bitsand then
Yon rising Moon that looks for us again-
How oft hereafter rising look for us
And in your joyous errand reach the spot Where I made One-turn down an empty Glass!
Edward Fitzgerald (1809-1883]
Where are they who in this world,
Ere we kept, were keeping?
They are not: they're sleeping.
Brief is life, and brevity
Briefly shall be ended:
None shall be defended.
Live this university,
Men that learning nourish!
Let them ever flourish!
Live the commonwealth also,
And the men that guide it!
We are here provided!
Live all gods! A health to you,
Melting maids and beauteous! Like the wives and women too, Gentle, loving, tender, true,
Good, industrious, duteous!
Perish cares that pule and pine!
Perish envious blamers!
John Addington Symonds (1840–1893]
LAURIGER HORATIUS *
True, how true thy saying!
Time, devouring, slaying.
Where are, oh! those goblets full
Of wine, honey-laden,
Lips of ruddy maiden?
Grows the young grape tenderly,
And the maid is growing;
Years on him are snowing!
Of the bays undying,
John Addington Symonds (1840-1893)
THE CONCLUSION OF THE WHOLE MATTER
From “The House of a Hundred Lights” The Great Sword Bearer only knows just when He'll wound
my heart,-not I: But since He is the one who gives the balm, what does it
If my Control should lose its hold on Fortune's collar through
some hurt, What then?—Why then I'd simply cling to old gray Resigna
Of all the languages of earth in which the human kind confer The Master Speaker is the Tear: it is the Great Interpreter.
Man's life is like a tide that weaves the sea within its daily
web. It rises, surges, swells, and grows, -a pause-then comes the
In this rough field of earthly life I have reaped cause for
tears enough, Yet, after all, I think I've gleaned my modicum of LaughingStuff.
Frederic Ridgely Torrence (1875–
THE EARTH AND MAN
A LITTLE sun, a little rain,
A soft wind blowing from the westAnd woods and fields are sweet again,
And warmth within the mountain's breast.
So simple is the earth we tread,
So quick with love and life her frame: Ten thousand years have dawned and fled,
And still her magic is the same.
A little love, a little trust,
A soft impulse, a sudden dreamAnd life as dry as desert dust
Is fresher than a mountain stream.
So simple is the heart of man,
So ready for new hope and joy: Ten thousand years since it began Have left it younger than a boy.
Stopford Augustus Brooke (1832
This is the height of our deserts:
A little righteous punishment,
A little light to show the way,