Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE CHILDREN OF KENSINGTON GARDENS, by VICTOR GUSTAVE PLARR


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE CHILDREN OF KENSINGTON GARDENS, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Strings of shells whose lively convolutions
Last Line: Hold one dear hand ere I, too, be past!
Subject(s): Sin; Youth


Strings of shells whose lively convolutions
Bathe in hues of rose, and pearl, and dawn,
Doves grown radiant winged from soft ablutions
In clear lakes on Eden's lawn,

Rainbows round the golden head of morning,
Locks flung backward from an angel's brow
Ere great Eve had disobeyed his warning,—
Such these Innocents of now.

Eve's poor sons in endless times and nations
Ate the bitter fruit of strife and doubt:
Still the turmoil of Man's generations
Brings Youth's miracle about.

Here in London, in this old King's pleasaunce,
Where each budding tulip was his child,
And he mourned his Mary, a bowed presence,
To his worst foes reconciled;

Here where the Child Queen, through th' alleys shady,
In her small coach wending to and fro,
Took the homage of some slim kind lady—
Your grandmother? ... years ago;

Here, in these old Gardens, where we others
Still go hurrying up the long Broad Walk,
Money-delving sires and modish mothers,
With our half-sad, rapid talk,

You, the children, keep an old behaviour,
And together daily undefiled
Build the Lodge of the World's Little Saviour,
Found the Kingdom of the Child.

Yours no cavil, best of politicians!
Yours no race for honours, lucre, fame:
Battledores beat down our proud positions,
And the hoop rolls Care to shame.

Gold is never known in your communion,
Save the honest gold of curling hair;
Blood and war, spent loves, and friends' disunion
Find no present lodging there!

Oh, the world of cream and peach-bloom faces,
Candid eyes and tresses spun of gold,
The Republic of the Lamb that graces
Our grim London, grown so old!

When my hour is marked upon the dial,
May I dream of you again at last—
View your sweet eyes in my hour of trial,
Hold one dear hand ere I, too, be past!





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