Classic and Contemporary Poetry
A GAGE D'AMOUR, by HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Charles, for it seems you wish to know Last Line: I pour libation. Alternate Author Name(s): Dobson, Austin Subject(s): Admiration | ||||||||
CHARLES, -- for it seems you wish to know, -- You wonder what could scare me so, And why, in this long-locked bureau, With trembling fingers, -- With tragic air, I now replace This ancient web of yellow lace, Among whose faded folds the trace Of perfume lingers. Friend of my youth, severe as true, I guess the train your thoughts pursue; But this my state is nowise due To indigestion; I had forgotten it was there, A scarf that Some-one used to wear. Hinc illoe lacrimae, -- so spare Your cynic questions. Some-one who is not girlish now, And wed long since. We meet and bow; I don't suppose our broken vow Affects us keenly; Yet, trifling though my act appears, Your Sternes would make it ground for tears; -- One can't disturb the dust of years, And smile serenely. "My golden locks" are gray and chill, For hers, -- let them be sacred still; But yet I own, a boyish thrill Went dancing through me, Charles, when I held yon yellow lace; For, from its dusty hiding-place, Peeped out an arch, ingenuous face That beckoned to me. We shut our heart up nowadays. Like some old music-box that plays Unfashionable airs that raise Derisive pity; Alas, -- a nothing starts the spring; And lo, the sentimental thing at once commences quavering Its lover's ditty. Laugh, if you like. The boy in me, -- The boy that was, -- revived to see The fresh young smile that shone when she, Of old, was tender. Once more we trod the Golden Way, -- That mother you saw yesterday, And I, whom none can well portray As young, or slender. She twirled the flimsy scarf about Her pretty head, and stepping out, Slipped arm in mine, with half a pout Of childish pleasure. -- Where we were bound no mortal knows, For then you plunged in Ireland's woes, And brought me blankly back to prose And Gladstone's measure. Well, well, the wisest bend to Fate. My brown old books around me wait, My pipe still holds, unconfiscate, Its wonted station. Pass me the wine. To Those that keep The bachelor's secluded sleep Peaceful, inviolate, and deep, I pour libation. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE EYE IN THE ROCK by JOHN HAINES SAN DIEGO AND MATISSE: 1. INSIDE FROM THE PERSPECTIVE OF A TREE by CLARENCE MAJOR SAN DIEGO AND MATISSE: 2. OUTSIDE FROM THE PERSPECTIVE OF A ROCKING... by CLARENCE MAJOR STREAK OF LIGHT by EAMON GRENNAN MARY DONNELLY by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM ON THE ROAD TO CHORRERA by ARLO BATES THE FOREST MAID by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT SHE WALKS IN BEAUTY by GEORGE GORDON BYRON A FANCY FROM FONTENELLE by HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON A GARDEN SONG by HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON ARS VICTRIX (IMITATED FROM THEOPHILE GAUTIER) by HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON |
|