Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, TO THE SHADE OF ANDREW LANG, by WILFRID CHARLES THORLEY

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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

First Line: Dear andrew whom I never met
Last Line: And oft-times render gall for honey.
Subject(s): Lang, Andrew (1844-1912); Translating & Interpreting

DEAR Andrew whom I never met,
Still o'er the years your version mellow
Shows "Aucassin and Nicolette"
In English verses without fellow.
Your Songs and Ballads of Old France
Are sweetly sung; and on your anvil
You struck out sparks that still enhance
The fame of Murger and De Banville.

Though here the jealous eye may find
Some few of those yourself did render,
Think not, my master, I am blind
To what in you is blithe and tender.
But he who in his book is bid
To show the Gallic Muse completely,
Must give again what others did
Although he give them far less sweetly.

And therefore, while your robes I don,
I set you here among my Lares
Without your leave, since you are gone
To haunt the land of myths and fairies.
And may your sprite upon the sill
Be pledge of all that's sweet and sunny,
Although I ply a wanton quill
And oft-times render gall for honey.

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