EPIGRAMS ON CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE Here ranted Isaac's elder son, |
EPIGRAMS ON CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE Here ranted Isaac's elder son, The proud shag-breasted godless one, From whom observant Smooth-Cheek stole Birthright, blessing, hunter's soul. A VILLAGE CONFLICT The cottage damson laden as could be Scowls at the Manor House magnolia tree That year by year within its thoughtless powers Yields flowers and leaves and flowers and leaves and flowers, While the Magnolia shudders as in fear, " Figurez-vous! two sackfuls every year!" DEDICATORY Dolon, analyst of souls, To the Graces hangs up here His shrimp-net rotting into holes And oozy from the infernal mere; He wreathes his gift around with cress, Lush harvest of the public cess. TO MY COLLATERAL ANCESTOR, REV. R. GRAVES, THE FRIEND OF THE POET SHENSTONE AND AUTHOR OF THE SPIRITUAL QUIXOTE: ON RECEIPT OF A PRESS-CUTTING INTENDED FOR HIM. O friend of Shenstone, do you frown
In realms remote from me
When Messrs Durrant send you down
By inadvertency
Clippings identifying you
With some dim man in the moon,
A Spiritual Quixote, true,
But friend of S. Sassoon?
“A VEHICLE, TO WIT, A BICYCLE.” (Dedicated, without permission, to my friend P. C. Flowers) “My front-lamp, constable? Why, man, the moon!
My rear-lamp? Shining there ten yards behind me,
Warm parlour lamplight of The Dish and Spoon!”
But for all my fancy talk, they would have fined me,
Had I not set a rather sly half-crown
Winking under the rays of my front lamp:
Goodwill towards men disturbed the official frown,
My rear-light beckoned through the evening’s damp.
MOTTO TO A BOOK OF EMBLEMS Though you read these, but understand not, curse not!
Or though you read and understand, yet praise not!
What poet weaves a better knot or worse knot
Untangling which, your own lives you unbrace not?
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