Classic and Contemporary Poetry
CHANSON WITHOUT MUSIC, by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: You bid me sing, - can I forget Last Line: "dum ille clamat, ""dos pou sto!" Subject(s): Language; Words; Vocabulary | ||||||||
BY THE PROFESSOR EMERITUS OF DEAD AND LIVE LANGUAGES YOU bid me sing, -- can I forget The classic ode of days gone by, -- How belle Fifine and jeune Lisette Exclaimed, "Anacreon, geron ei"? "Regardez donc," those ladies said, -- "You're getting bald and wrinkled too: When summer's roses all are shed, Love's nullum ite, voyez-vous!" In vain ce brave Anacreon's cry, "Of Love alone my banjo sings" (Erota mounon). "Etiam si, -- Eh b'en?" replied the saucy things, -- "Go find a maid whose hair is gray, And strike your lyre, -- we sha'n't complain: But parce nobis, s'il vous plait, -- Voila Adolphe! Voila Eugene!" Ah, jeune Lisette! Ah, belle Fifine! Anacreon's lesson all must learn; O kairos oxus; Spring is green, But Acer Hyems waits his turn! I hear you whispering from the dust, "Tiens, mon cher, c'est toujours so, -- The brightest blade grows dim with rust, The fairest meadow white with snow!" You do not mean it! Not encore? Another string of playday rhymes? You've heard me -- nonne est? -- before, Multoties, -- more than twenty times; Non possum, -- vraiment, -- pas du tout, I cannot! I am loath to shirk; But who will listen if I do, My memory makes such shocking work? Ginosko. Scio. Yes, I'm told Some ancients like my rusty lay, As Grandpa Noah loved the old Red-sandstone march of Jubal's day. I used to carol like the birds, But time my wits has quite unfixed, Et quoad verba, -- for my words, -- Ciel! Eheu! Whe-ew! -- how they're mixed! Mehercle! Zeu! Diable! how My thoughts were dressed when I was young, But tempus fugit! see them now Half clad in rags of every tongue! O philoi, fratres, chers amis! I dare not court the youthful Muse, For fear her sharp response should be, "Papa Anacreon, please excuse!" Adieu! I've trod my annual track How long! -- let others count the miles, -- And peddled out my rhyming pack To friends who always paid in smiles. So, laissez-moi! some youthful wit No doubt has wares he wants to show; And I am asking, "Let me sit," Dum ille clamat, "Dos pou sto!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HOWYOUBEENS' by TERRANCE HAYES MY LIFE: REASON LOOKS FOR TWO, THEN ARRANGES IT FROM THERE by LYN HEJINIAN THE FATALIST: THE BEST WORDS by LYN HEJINIAN WRITING IS AN AID TO MEMORY: 17 by LYN HEJINIAN CANADA IN ENGLISH by JUAN FELIPE HERRERA THERE IS NO WORD by TONY HOAGLAND CONSIDERED SPEECH by JOHN HOLLANDER AND MOST OF ALL, I WANNA THANK ?Ǫ by JOHN HOLLANDER A BALLAD OF THE BOSTON TEA-PARTY [DECEMBER 16, 1773] by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES |
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