Classic and Contemporary Poetry
DIVERSIONS OF THE RE-ECHO CLUB, by CAROLYN WELLS Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Hence, vain, deluding cows Last Line: Than to be one, anyhow. Subject(s): Clubs (associations); Cows; Gray, Thomas (1716-1771); Keats, John (1795-1821); Kipling, Rudyard (1865-1936); Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth (1807-1882); Poe, Edgar Allan (1809-1849); Poetry & Poets; Rossetti, Dante Gabriel (1828-1882) | ||||||||
It is with pleasure that we announce our ability to offer to the public the papers of the Re-Echo Club. This club, somewhat after the order of the Echo Club, late of Boston, takes pleasure in trying to better what is done. On the occasion of the meeting of which the following gems of poesy are the result, the several members of the club engaged to write up the well-known tradition of the Purple Cow in more elaborate form than the quatrain made famous by Mr. Gelett Burgess: "I NEVER saw a Purple Cow, I never hope to see one; But I can tell you, anyhow, I'd rather see than be one." The first attempt here cited is the production of Mr. John Milton: Hence, vain, deluding cows. The herd of folly, without colour bright, How little you delight, Or fill the Poet's mind, or songs arouse! But, hail! thou goddess gay of feature! Hail, divinest purple creature! Oh, Cow, thy visage is too bright To hit the sense of human sight. And though I'd like, just once, to see thee, I never, never, never'd be thee! MR. P. BYSSHE SHELLEY: Hail to thee, blithe spirit! Cow thou never wert; But in life to cheer it Playest thy full part In purple lines of unpremeditated art. The pale purple colour Melts around thy sight Like a star, but duller, In the broad daylight. I'd see thee, but I would not be thee if I might. We look before and after At cattle as they browse; Our most hearty laughter Something sad must rouse. Our sweetest songs are those that tell of Purple Cows. MR. W. WORDSWORTH: She dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dee; A Cow whom there were few to praise And very few to see. A violet by a mossy stone Greeting the smiling East Is not so purple, I must own, As that erratic beast. She lived unknown, that Cow, and so I never chanced to see; But if I had to be one, oh, The difference to me! MR. T. GRAY: The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea; I watched them slowly wend their weary way, But, ah, a Purple Cow I did not see. Full many a cow of purplest ray serene Is haply grazing where I may not see; Full many a donkey writes of her, I ween, But neither of these creatures would I be. MR. J. W. RILEY: There, little Cow, don't cry! You are brindle and brown, I know. And with wild, glad hues Of reds and blues, You never will gleam and glow. But though not pleasing to the eye, There, little Cow, don't cry, don't cry. LORD A. TENNYSON: Ask me no more. A cow I fain would see Of purple tint, like to a sun-soaked grape -- Of purple tint, like royal velvet cape -- But such a creature I would never be -- Ask me no more. MR. R. BROWNING: All that I know Of a certain Cow Is it can throw, Somewhere, somehow, Now a dart of red, Now a dart of blue (That makes purple, 'tis said). I would fain see, too. This Cow that darkles the red and the blue! MR. J. KEATS: A cow of purple is a joy forever. Its loveliness increases. I have never Seen this phenomenon. Yet ever keep A brave lookout; lest I should be asleep When she comes by. For, though I would not be one, I've oft imagined 'twould be joy to see one. MR. D. G. ROSSETTI: The Purple Cow strayed in the glade; (Oh, my soul! but the milk is blue!) She strayed and strayed and strayed and strayed (And I wail and I cry Wa-hoo!) I've never seen her -- nay, not I; (Oh, my soul! but the milk is blue!) Yet were I that Cow I should want to die. (And I wail and I cry Wa-hoo!) But in vain my tears I strew. MR. T. ALDRICH: Somewhere in some faked nature place, In Wonderland, in Nonsense Land, Two darkling shapes met face to face, And bade each other stand. "And who are you?" said each to each; "Tell me your title, anyhow." One said, "I am the Papal Bull," "And I the Purple Cow." MR. E. ALLAN POE: Open then I flung a shutter, And, with many a flirt and flutter, In there stepped a Purple Cow which gayly tripped around my floor. Not the least obeisance made she, Not a moment stopped or stayed she, But with mien of chorus lady perched herself above my door. On a dusty bust of Dante perched and sat above my door. And that Purple Cow unflitting Still is sitting -- still is sitting On that dusty bust of Dante just above my chamber door, And her horns have all the seeming Of a demon's that is screaming, And the arc-light o'er her streaming Casts her shadow on the floor. And my soul from out that pool of Purple shadow on the floor, Shall be lifted Nevermore! MR. H. LONGFELLOW: The day is done, and the darkness Falls from the wing of night As ballast is wafted downward From an air-ship in its flight. I dream of a purple creature Which is not as kine are now; And resembles cattle only As Cowper resembles a cow. Such cows have power to quiet Our restless thoughts and rude; They come like the Benedictine That follows after food. MR. A. SWINBURNE: Oh, Cow of rare rapturous vision, Oh, purple, impalpable Cow, Do you browse in a Dream Field Elysian, Are you purpling pleasantly now? By the side of wan waves do you languish? Or in the lithe lush of the grove? While vainly I search in my anguish, O Bovine of mauve! Despair in my bosom is sighing, Hope's star has sunk sadly to rest; Though cows of rare sorts I am buying, Not one breathes a balm to my breast. Oh, rapturous rose-crowned occasion, When I such a glory might see! But a cow of a purple persuasion I never would be. MR. A. DOBSON: I'd love to see A Purple Cow, Oh, Goodness me! I'd love to see But not to be One. Anyhow, I'd love to see A Purple Cow. MR. O. HERFORD: Children, observe the Purple Cow, You cannot see her, anyhow; And, little ones, you need not hope Your eyes will e'er attain such scope. But if you ever have a choice To be, or see, lift up your voice And choose to see. For surely you Don't want to browse around and moo. MR. H. C. BUNNER: Oh, what's the way to Arcady, Where all the cows are purple? Ah, woe is me! I never hope On such a sight my eyes to ope; But as I sing in merry glee Along the road to Arcady, Perchance full soon I may espy A Purple Cow come dancing by. Heigho! I then shall see one. Her horns bedecked with ribbons gay, And garlanded with rosy may, -- A tricksy sight. Still I must say I'd rather see than be one. MR. A. SWINBURNE: (Who was so enthused that he made a second attempt.) Only in dim, drowsy depths of a dream do I dare to delight in deliciously dreaming Cows there may be of a passionate purple, -- cows of a violent violet hue; Ne'er have I seen such a sight, I am certain it is but a demi-delirious dreaming -- Ne'er may I happily harbour a hesitant hope in my heart that my dream may come true. Sad is my soul, and my senses are sobbing so strong is my strenuous spirit to see one. Dolefully, drearily doomed to despair as warily wearily watching I wait; Thoughts thickly thronging are thrilling and throbbing; to see is a glorious gain -- but to be one! That were a darker and direfuller destiny, that were a fearfuller, frightfuller fate! MR. R. KIPLING: In the old ten-acre pasture, Lookin' eastward toward a tree, There's a Purple Cow a-settin' And I know she thinks of me. For the wind is in the gum-tree, And the hay is in the mow, And the cow-bells are a-calling "Come and see a Purple Cow!" But I am not going now, Not at present, anyhow, For I am not fond of purple, and I can't abide a cow; No, I shall not go to-day, Where the Purple Cattle play. But I think I'd rather see one Than to be one, anyhow. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNET FOR A PICTURE by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE AT THE GRAVE OF DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI by H. T. MACKENZIE BELL BEGINNINGS; FOR ROSSETTI'S FIRST PAINTING by FORD MADOX FORD DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI by EDMUND WILLIAM GOSSE THE VOICE OF D.G.R. by EDMUND WILLIAM GOSSE TO DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI by EDMUND WILLIAM GOSSE THE POETS AT TEA: 8. ROSSETTI, WHO TOOK SIX CUPS OF IT by BARRY PAIN BIRCHINGTON CHURCH-YARD by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI |
|