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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
LAMB, by LIONEL PIGOT JOHNSON Poem Explanation Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Saint charles! For thackeray called thee so | |||
Saint Charles! for Thackeray called thee so: Saint Charles! for Thackeray called thee so: Saint, at whose name our fond hearts glow: Saint, at whose name our fond hearts glow: See now, this age of tedious woe, See now, this age of tedious woe, That snaps and snarls! That snaps and snarls! Thine was a life of tragic shade; A life, of care and sorrow made: Thine was a life of tragic shade; But nought could make thine heart afraid, Gentle Saint Charles! A life, of care and sorrow made: But nought could make thine heart afraid, Gentle Saint Charles! Encumbered dearly with old books, Thou, by the pleasant chimney nooks, Encumbered dearly with old books, Didst laugh, with merry-meaning looks, Thy griefs away: Thou, by the pleasant chimney nooks, We, bred on modern magazines, Didst laugh, with merry-meaning looks, Thy griefs away: Point out, how much our sadness means; And some new woe our wisdom gleans, Day by dull day. We, bred on modern magazines, Point out, how much our sadness means; Lover of London! whilst thy feet And some new woe our wisdom gleans, Day by dull day. Haunted each old familiar street, Thy brave heart found life's turmoil sweet, Despite life's pain. We fume and fret and, when we can, Lover of London! whilst thy feet Cry up some new and noisy plan, Haunted each old familiar street, Thy brave heart found life's turmoil sweet, Big with the Rights and Wrongs of Man: Despite life's pain. And where's the gain? Gentle Saint Charles! I turn to thee, Tender and true: thou teachest me We fume and fret and, when we can, Cry up some new and noisy plan, Big with the Rights and Wrongs of Man: To take with joy, what joys there be, And bear the rest. And where's the gain? Walking thy London day by day, The thought of thee makes bright my way, Gentle Saint Charles! I turn to thee, And in thy faith I fain would stay, Tender and true: thou teachest me Doing my best. To take with joy, what joys there be, And bear the rest. Along the Mall, along the Strand, Each turn I take, still thou dost stand, Walking thy London day by day, A patron spirit, at mine hand: The thought of thee makes bright my way, So, should my choice, And in thy faith I fain would stay, Beside the dear book-laden stall, On books not books perversely fall: Doing my best. Nay! take the play, the pastoral! Pleads thy wise voice. Along the Mall, along the Strand, Each turn I take, still thou dost stand, A patron spirit, at mine hand: So, though the world be full of noise; And most new books, but foolish toys; So, should my choice, I share with thee thine ancient joys, Marvell or Quarles: Beside the dear book-laden stall, So, tired with rambling through the Town, On books not books perversely fall: I taste the rich delights of Browne; Nay! take the play, the pastoral! With Elia for the evening's crown, Gentle Saint Charles! Pleads thy wise voice. So, though the world be full of noise; And most new books, but foolish toys; I share with thee thine ancient joys, Marvell or Quarles: So, tired with rambling through the Town, I taste the rich delights of Browne; With Elia for the evening's crown, Gentle Saint Charles! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CHURCH OF A DREAM; TO BERNHARD BERENSON by LIONEL PIGOT JOHNSON THE DARK ANGEL by LIONEL PIGOT JOHNSON A FRIEND by LIONEL PIGOT JOHNSON CELTIC SPEECH by LIONEL PIGOT JOHNSON ENTHUSIASTS by LIONEL PIGOT JOHNSON FRIENDS: 4 by LIONEL PIGOT JOHNSON HILL AND VALE by LIONEL PIGOT JOHNSON LOVE'S WAYS by LIONEL PIGOT JOHNSON MYSTIC AND CAVALIER by LIONEL PIGOT JOHNSON |
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