Classic and Contemporary Poetry
TO THAT COMPLETE AND NOBLE KNIGHT SIR KENELLAM DIGBY, by RANDOLPH THOMAS Poet's Biography First Line: Sir, when I look on you, methinks I see Last Line: You'll let her ivy wait upon your bays. Subject(s): Digby, Sir Kenelm (1603-1665); Plays & Playwrights | ||||||||
SIR, when I look on you, methinks I see To the full height how perfect man may be. Sure all the arts did court you, and you were So courteous as to give to each their share. While we lie lock'd in darkness, night and day Wasting our fruitless oil and time away: Perchance for skill in grammar, and to know Whether this word be thus declin'd, or no. Another cheats himself, perchance to be A pretty youth, forsooth, in fallacy. This on arithmetic doth hourly lie, To learn the first great blessing, multiply, That travels in geometry, and tires, And he above the world a map admires. This dotes on music's most harmonious chime, And studying how to keep it, loses time. One turns o'er histories, and he can show All that has been, but knows not what is now. Many in physic labour; most of these Lose health to know the name of a disease. Some (too high wise) are gazing at a star, And if they call it by his name, they are In heaven already; and another one That cries Melpomene, and drinks Helicon, At poetry throws wit and wealth away, And makes it all his work to write a play. Nay, on Divinity many spend their powers, That scarce learn anything, but to stand two hours. How must we, sir, admire you then, that know All arts, and all the best of these can show! For your deep skill in State, I cannot say; My knowledge there is only to obey. But I believe 'tis known to our best peers, Amaz'd to see a Nestor at your years. Mars claims you, too: witness the galleon That felt your thunderbolts at Scanderon, When Neptune frighted let his trident fall, And bid his waves call you their general. How many men might you divide your store Of virtues to, and yet not leave you poor, Though enrich them! Stay here. How dare I then To such an able judgment show my pen? But 'tis, sir, from a muse that humbly prays, You'll let her ivy wait upon your bays. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ENDING WITH A LINE FROM LEAR by MARVIN BELL SOUNDS OF THE RESURRECTED DEAD MAN'S FOOTSTEPS (#20): 1. SHAKESPEARE by MARVIN BELL SOUNDS OF THE RESURRECTED DEAD MAN'S FOOTSTEPS (#20): 2. SHAKESPEARE by MARVIN BELL YOUR SHAKESPEARE by MARVIN BELL TO AN ARTIST, TO TAKE HEART by LOUISE BOGAN THE SAVING WAY by HAYDEN CARRUTH THE FOX WHO WATCHED FOR THE MIDNIGHT SUN by NORMAN DUBIE YOU KNOW WHAT PEOPLE SAY by JAMES GALVIN MAGISTRO RICHADO LANE by RANDOLPH THOMAS |
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