Classic and Contemporary Poetry
VAUXHALL, by THOMAS HOOD Poet's Biography First Line: Come, come, I am very / disposed to be merry Last Line: I go from vauxhall! Subject(s): Vauxhall Gardens, London | ||||||||
COME, come, I am very Disposed to be merry -- So hey! for a wherry I beckon and ball! 'Tis dry, not a damp night, And pleasure will tramp light To music and lamp light At shining Vauxhall! Ay, here's the dark portal -- The check-taking mortal I pass, and turn short all At once on the blaze -- Names famous in story, Lit up con amore, All flaming in glory, Distracting the gaze! Oh my name lies fallow -- Fame never will hallow In red light and yellow Poetical toil -- I've long tried to write up My name, and take flight up; But ink will not light up Like cotton and oil! But sad thoughts, keep under! -- The painted Rotunder Invites me. I wonder Who's singing so clear? 'Tis Sinclair, high-flying, Scotch ditties supplying; But some hearts are sighing For Dignum, I fear! How bright is the lustre, How thick the folks muster, And eagerly cluster, On bench and in box, -- Whilst Povey is waking Sweet sounds, or the taking Kate Stephens is shaking Her voice and her locks! What clapping attends her! -- The white doe befriends her -- How Braham attends her Away by the hand, For Love to succeed her; The Signor doth heed her, And sigheth to lead her Instead of the band! Then out we all sally -- Time's ripe for the Ballet, Like bees they all rally Before the machine! -- But I am for tracing The bright walks and facing The groups that are pacing To see and be seen. How motely they mingle -- What men might one single, And names that would tingle Or tickle the ear -- Fresh Chinese contrivers Of letters -- survivors Of pawnbrokers -- divers Beau Tibbses appear! Such little and great men, And civic and state men -- Collectors and rate-men -- How pleasant to nod To friends -- to note fashions, To make speculations On people and passions -- To laugh at the odd! To sup on true slices Of ham -- with fair prices For foul -- while cool ices And liquors abound -- To see Blackmore wander, A small salamander, Adown the rope yonder, And light on the ground! Oh, the fireworks are splendid; But darkness is blended -- Bright things are soon ended, Fade quickly and fall! There goes the last rocket! -- Some cash out of pocket, By stars in the socket, I go from Vauxhall! | Other Poems of Interest...VAUXHALL GARDENS by ROYALL TYLER BALLAD: TIME OF ROSES by THOMAS HOOD DEATH IN THE KITCHEN by THOMAS HOOD FAITHLESS NELLY GRAY; A PATHETIC BALLAD by THOMAS HOOD FALSE POETS AND TRUE; TO WORDSWORTH by THOMAS HOOD MISS KILMANSEGG AND HER PRECIOUS LEG: HER BIRTH by THOMAS HOOD MISS KILMANSEGG AND HER PRECIOUS LEG: HER DEATH by THOMAS HOOD MISS KILMANSEGG AND HER PRECIOUS LEG: HER MORAL by THOMAS HOOD |
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