(F. L. L.: IN MEMORIAM) 'HIS Books.' Oh yes, his Books I know, -- Each worth a monarch's ransom; But now, beside their row on row, I see, erect and handsome, The courtly Owner, glass in eye, With half-sad smile, forerunning Some triumph of an apt reply, -- Some master-stroke of punning. Where shall we meet his like again? Where hear, in such perfection, Such genial talk of gods and men, -- Such store of recollection; Or where discern a verse so neat, So well-bred and so witty, -- So finished in its least conceit, So mixed of mirth and pity? POPE taught him rhythm, PRIOR ease, PRAED buoyancy and banter; What modern bard would learn from these? Ah, tempora mutantur! The old regime departs, -- departs; Our days of mime and mocker, For all their imitative arts, Produce no FREDERICK LOCKER. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON THE DEPARTURE PLATFORM by THOMAS HARDY THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON THERE IS NOTHING STRANGE by ARCHILOCHUS ON NANUS COUNTED ON AN ANT by DECIMUS MAGNUS AUSONIUS HIS HEART, INTO A BIRD by PHILIP AYRES LOST TREASURE by MATHILDE BLIND |