Poems by Henry Austin Dobson
Sorted by title, showing title and first line
SCENE.--The Fountain in the Garden of the Luxembourg. It is surrounded by Promenaders.
(To A. L.)
(Grandpapa Loquitur.)
"Non injussa cano."
"On court, hélas! après la vérité;
To * * Esq. of * * with a Life of the late Ingenious Mr. W M. Hogarth.
"De mémoires de Roses on n'a point vu mourir le Jardinier."
(To W. E. H.)
Ah, Postumus, we all must go:
(XVIII. CENT.)
Before me, careless lying,
(TERCENTENARY, 1608-1908)
To the Burden of "Rogues All."
"Flee fro the PREES, and dwelle with sothfastnesse."--CHAUCER, Balade de Bon Conseil.
Old it is, and worn and battered,
("His Friends" To Quintus Horatius Flaccus.)
As I went a-walking on Lavender Hill,
When first I came to Court,
FRANK (on the Lawn).
"Sic visum Veneri: cui placet impares
"There's nothing new"--Not that I go so far
To William John Courthope, March 12, 1903
"Mitte sectari ROSA quo locorum
Emigravit, October Vi., Mdcccxcii.
He. Whither away, fair Neat-herdess?
(To E. H. P.)
"Jamais les arbres verts n'ont essaye d'etre bleus."--
Green growths of mosses drop and bead
(Clerk of Love, 1170.)
Wistaria blossoms trail and fall
"At the Sign of the Lyre,"
"Rather be dead than praised," he said,
All night through Daisy's sleep, it seems,
Behind thy pasteboard, on thy battered hack,
"The Case is proceeding."
Many days have come and gone,
"For old sake's sake!" 'Twere hard to choose
(With Original Drawings By G. H. Boughton.)
"On a l'âge de son coeur."--A. d'Houdetot.
(To James Russell Lowell.)
"Nec turpem senectam
(Published at Madrid, by Francisco de Robles, January 1605)
"Mine be a cot," for the hours of play,
HUGH (on furlough).
"The blue fly sung in the pane."--Tennyson.
Just for a space that I met her--
In our hearts is the Great One of Avon
"--the music of the moon
"Little Blue-Ribbons!" We call her that
"Now the Graces are four and the Venuses two,
They dwell in the odour of camphor,
(After Anthony Hamilton.)
(HORACE, III. 7.)
Him best in all the dim Arthuriad,
To One who asked why he wrote it.
Old Loves and old dreams,--
Even as one in city pent,
In the year Seventeen Hundred and Seventy and Three,
(To E. G., With A Collection Of Essays.)
Nothing so idle as to waste
By A Gentleman Of The Temple.
(We lay our story in the East.
Too oft we hide our Frailties' Blame
When do the reasoning Powers decline?
Monsieur the Curé down the street
The most oppressive Form of Cant
A Suggestion From Hogarth.
"Emam tua carmina sanus?"--MARTIAL.
"Hoc est vivere."--MARTIAL.
A Proper New Ballad Of The Country And The Town.
Hurrah! the Season's past at last;
AN EPILOGUE TO ANY BOOK
"One drop of ruddy human blood puts more life into the veins of a poem than all the delusive 'aurum potabile' that can be distilled out of the choicest library."--Lowell.
I drink of the Ale of Southwark, I drink of the Ale of Chepe;
(For A Fresco.)
Across the grass I see her pass;
(Expanded from an Epigram of Piron.)
"Ce sont les amours
"What's not destroyed by Time's devouring Hand?
(Whose name is Amanda.)
If those who wield the Rod forget,
"Ille terrarum mihi præter omnes
Yes, here it is, behind the box,
When Fate presents us with the Bays,
With Verse, is Form the first, or Sense?
In Art some hold Themselves content
Much strange is true. And yet so much
"Buy,--who'll buy?" In the market-place,
"--portentaque Thessala rides?"
(From The "Garland Of Rachel.")
Missal of the Gothic age,
(H. E. B.)
"Kill not--for Pity's sake--and lest ye slay
"Sermons in stones."
(HOR. EP. I., 20.)
(HOR. III., 23.)
"Tuque, Testudo, resonare septem
Between the rail of woven brass,
(For A Drawing By E. A. Abbey.)
He set the trumpet to his lips, and lo!
About the ending of the Ramadán,