TO ROBERT HERRICK.
Jocund Herrick tho’ this ageLeaves uncut thy merry page,Leaves thy song, thy robust jestFor Quixotic modern quest;Thinks that all poetic blissIs summed in soul-analysis;Swinburne’s strange erratic flight,Weird desire and wild delight;Pleasures in the paltry host—Starveling muse’s meager ghostDribbling song in purblind flow—Poesy has sunk so low.I would see beside the rillDecked with Lawn and DaffodilSweetly thro’ the morning air—Corinna going to the fair!I would hear the birds and beesSung of in Hesperides;Would that I were with you there,Drunken with the dewy air.And Julia, paragon of grace,I would look upon her face;Then might I inspired be,Fit to join thy company.Ah! Herrick, softly on thy moundI would still bestrew the ground—Daffodil and rosemaryTokens for thy memory.Eugene R. White.
Jocund Herrick tho’ this ageLeaves uncut thy merry page,Leaves thy song, thy robust jestFor Quixotic modern quest;Thinks that all poetic blissIs summed in soul-analysis;Swinburne’s strange erratic flight,Weird desire and wild delight;Pleasures in the paltry host—Starveling muse’s meager ghostDribbling song in purblind flow—Poesy has sunk so low.I would see beside the rillDecked with Lawn and DaffodilSweetly thro’ the morning air—Corinna going to the fair!I would hear the birds and beesSung of in Hesperides;Would that I were with you there,Drunken with the dewy air.And Julia, paragon of grace,I would look upon her face;Then might I inspired be,Fit to join thy company.Ah! Herrick, softly on thy moundI would still bestrew the ground—Daffodil and rosemaryTokens for thy memory.Eugene R. White.
Jocund Herrick tho’ this ageLeaves uncut thy merry page,Leaves thy song, thy robust jestFor Quixotic modern quest;
Jocund Herrick tho’ this age
Leaves uncut thy merry page,
Leaves thy song, thy robust jest
For Quixotic modern quest;
Thinks that all poetic blissIs summed in soul-analysis;Swinburne’s strange erratic flight,Weird desire and wild delight;
Thinks that all poetic bliss
Is summed in soul-analysis;
Swinburne’s strange erratic flight,
Weird desire and wild delight;
Pleasures in the paltry host—Starveling muse’s meager ghostDribbling song in purblind flow—Poesy has sunk so low.
Pleasures in the paltry host—
Starveling muse’s meager ghost
Dribbling song in purblind flow—
Poesy has sunk so low.
I would see beside the rillDecked with Lawn and DaffodilSweetly thro’ the morning air—Corinna going to the fair!
I would see beside the rill
Decked with Lawn and Daffodil
Sweetly thro’ the morning air—
Corinna going to the fair!
I would hear the birds and beesSung of in Hesperides;Would that I were with you there,Drunken with the dewy air.
I would hear the birds and bees
Sung of in Hesperides;
Would that I were with you there,
Drunken with the dewy air.
And Julia, paragon of grace,I would look upon her face;Then might I inspired be,Fit to join thy company.
And Julia, paragon of grace,
I would look upon her face;
Then might I inspired be,
Fit to join thy company.
Ah! Herrick, softly on thy moundI would still bestrew the ground—Daffodil and rosemaryTokens for thy memory.
Ah! Herrick, softly on thy mound
I would still bestrew the ground—
Daffodil and rosemary
Tokens for thy memory.
Eugene R. White.
Eugene R. White.