@2I'@1 FAITH, good Hal, you have a saucy wit, You sober-smiling magistrate of modes, And yet, I swear, I like the way of it, Save when, of course, it mocks @3my@1 social codes And private peccadilloes. And what a brave old Bull you are, my Fielding, And how you tear and toss the crimson rags Of "low" and "law," and how you scorn the yielding To critics who, unhorsed, their saddle-bags Must use in lieu of pillows. They're left to brood their sins, whilst you, impatient, Like Ocean old, to change the figure here, With soul as free as that of any ancient, And sentences a trifle mixed, I fear, Sweep on in lofty billows. Roguish as Puck, and now benign as Brahma, Give us to drink from out your generous glass, Seer and lover of the human drama, Wisdom and cheer through all the way we pass From storks to weeds and willows! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HEREDITY by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH A VALEDICTION: OF THE BOOKE by JOHN DONNE PROMETHEUS by JOHANN WOLFGANG VON GOETHE INDIAN WOMAN'S DEATH-SONG by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS CORINNA TO TANAGRA, FROM ATHENS by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR MEDITATIONS OF A HINDU [OR, HINDOO] PRINCE [AND SKEPTIC] by ALFRED COMYNS LYALL A PRAYER FOR A VERY NEW ANGEL by VIOLET ALLEYN STOREY |