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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
WINCHESTER, by LIONEL PIGOT JOHNSON Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: To the fairest! %then to thee | |||
To the fairest! Then to thee To the fairest! Consecrate and bounden be, Then to thee Winchester! this verse of mine. Consecrate and bounden be, Ah, that loveliness of thine! To have lived enchaunted years Winchester! this verse of mine. Free from sorrows, free from fears, Ah, that loveliness of thine! Where thy Tower's great shadow falls To have lived enchaunted years Over those proud buttressed walls; Free from sorrows, free from fears, Where thy Tower's great shadow falls Whence a purpling glory pours Over those proud buttressed walls; From high heaven's inheritors, Whence a purpling glory pours Throned within the arching stone! To have wandered, hushed, alone, From high heaven's inheritors, Gently round thy fair, fern-grown Throned within the arching stone! Chauntry of the Lilies, lying To have wandered, hushed, alone, Where the soft night winds go sighing Gently round thy fair, fern-grown Round thy Cloisters, in moonlight Chauntry of the Lilies, lying Where the soft night winds go sighing Branching dark, or touched with white: Round thy Cloisters, in moonlight Round old, chill aisles, where moon-smitten Blanches the Orate, written Branching dark, or touched with white: Under each worn, old-world face Round old, chill aisles, where moon-smitten Blanches the Orate, written Graven on Death's holy place! Under each worn, old-world face To the noblest! Graven on Death's holy place! None but thee. Blest our living eyes, that see To the noblest! Half a thousand years fulfilled None but thee. Blest our living eyes, that see Of that age, which Wykeham willed Half a thousand years fulfilled Thee to win; yet all unworn, Of that age, which Wykeham willed As upon that first March morn, Thee to win; yet all unworn, When thine honoured city saw Thy young beauty without flaw, As upon that first March morn, When thine honoured city saw Born within her water-flowing, Ancient hollows, by wind-blowing Thy young beauty without flaw, Hills enfolded ever more. Born within her water-flowing, Thee, that lord of splendid lore, Ancient hollows, by wind-blowing Orient from old Hellas' shore, Hills enfolded ever more. Grocyn, had to mother: thee, Thee, that lord of splendid lore, Monumental majesty Orient from old Hellas' shore, Grocyn, had to mother: thee, Of most high philosophy Honours, in thy wizard Browne: Monumental majesty Of most high philosophy Tender Otway's dear renown, Mover of a perfect pity, Honours, in thy wizard Browne: Tender Otway's dear renown, Victim of the iron city, Mover of a perfect pity, Thine to cherish is: and thee, Laureate of Liberty; Victim of the iron city, Harper of the Highland faith, Thine to cherish is: and thee, Laureate of Liberty; Elf, and faery, and wan wraith; Harper of the Highland faith, Chaunting softly, chaunting slowly, Minstrel of all melancholy; Elf, and faery, and wan wraith; Master of all melody, Chaunting softly, chaunting slowly, Minstrel of all melancholy; Made to cling round memory; Passion's poet, Evening's voice, Master of all melody, Collins glorified. Rejoice, Made to cling round memory; Mother! in thy sons: for all Passion's poet, Evening's voice, Love thine immemorial Collins glorified. Rejoice, Mother! in thy sons: for all Name, august and musical. Love thine immemorial Not least he, who left thy side, Name, august and musical. For his sire's, thine earlier pride, Not least he, who left thy side, Arnold: whom we mourn to-day, Prince of song, and gone away For his sire's, thine earlier pride, To his brothers of the bay: Arnold: whom we mourn to-day, Prince of song, and gone away Thine the love of all his years; To his brothers of the bay: His be now thy praising tears. Thine the love of all his years; To the dearest! His be now thy praising tears. Ah, to thee! To the dearest! Hast thou not in all to me Mother, more than mother, been? Ah, to thee! Well toward thee may Mary Queen Hast thou not in all to me Bend her with a mother's mien; Mother, more than mother, been? Who so rarely dost express Well toward thee may Mary Queen Bend her with a mother's mien; An inspiring tenderness, Who so rarely dost express Woven with thy sterner strain, An inspiring tenderness, Prelude of the world's true pain. But two years, and still my feet Woven with thy sterner strain, Prelude of the world's true pain. Found thy very stones more sweet, Than the richest fields elsewhere: But two years, and still my feet Two years, and thy sacred air Found thy very stones more sweet, Than the richest fields elsewhere: Still poured balm upon me, when Two years, and thy sacred air Nearer drew the world of men; When the passions, one by one, Still poured balm upon me, when Nearer drew the world of men; All sprang upward to the sun: When the passions, one by one, Two years have I lived, still thine; All sprang upward to the sun: Lost, thy presence! gone, that shrine, Two years have I lived, still thine; Where six years, what years! were mine. Lost, thy presence! gone, that shrine, Music is the thought of thee; Where six years, what years! were mine. Fragrance, all thy memory. Music is the thought of thee; Those thy rugged Chambers old, Fragrance, all thy memory. In their gloom and rudeness, hold Dear remembrances of gold. Those thy rugged Chambers old, Some first blossoming of flowers In their gloom and rudeness, hold Made delight of all the hours; Dear remembrances of gold. Greatness, beauty, all things fair Some first blossoming of flowers Made delight of all the hours; Made the spirit of thine air: Greatness, beauty, all things fair Old years live with thee; thy sons Made the spirit of thine air: Walk with high companions. Old years live with thee; thy sons Then, the natural joy of earth, Walk with high companions. Joy of very health and birth! Hills, upon a summer noon: Then, the natural joy of earth, Water Meads, on eves of June: Joy of very health and birth! Chamber Court, beneath the moon: Hills, upon a summer noon: Water Meads, on eves of June: Days of spring, on Twyford Down, Chamber Court, beneath the moon: Or when autumn woods grew brown; Days of spring, on Twyford Down, As they looked, when here came Keats, Or when autumn woods grew brown; Chaunting of autumnal sweets; Through this city of old haunts, As they looked, when here came Keats Chaunting of autumnal sweets; Murmuring immortal chaunts; Through this city of old haunts, As when Pope, art's earlier king, Here, a child, did nought but sing; Murmuring immortal chaunts; Sang, a child, by nature's rule, As when Pope, art's earlier king, Here, a child, did nought but sing; Round the trees of Twyford School: Sang, a child, by nature's rule, Hours of sun beside Mead's Wall, Ere the may begin to fall; Round the trees of Twyford School: Hours of sun beside Meads' Wall, Watching the rooks rise and soar, Ere the may began to fall; High from lime and sycamore: Watching the rooks rise and soar, Wanderings by old-world ways, High from lime and sycamore: Walks and streets of ancient days; Closes, churches, arches, halls, Wanderings by old-world ways, Walks and streets of ancient days; Vanished men's memorials. There was beauty, there was grace, Closes, churches, arches, halls, Each place was an holy place: Vanished men's memorials. There was beauty, there was grace, There the kindly fates allowed Me too room; and made me proud, Each place was an holy place: There the kindly fates allowed Prouder name I have not wist! Me too room; and made me proud, With the name of Wykehamist. Prouder name I have not wist! These thy joys: and more than these: With the name of Wykehamist. Ah, to watch beneath thy trees, These thy joys: and more than these: Through long twilights linden-scented, Sunsets, lingering, lamented, Ah, to watch beneath thy trees, Through long twilights linden-scented, In the purple west; prevented, Sunsets, lingering, lamented, Ere they fell, by evening star! In the purple west; prevented, Ah, long nights of Winter! far Leaps and roars the faggot fire; Ere they fell, by evening star! Ruddy smoke rolls higher, higher, Ah, long nights of Winter! far Broken through by flame's desire; Leaps and roars the faggot fire; Circling faces glow, all eyes Ruddy smoke rolls higher, higher, Take the light; deep radiance flies, Broken through by flame's desire; Merrily flushing overhead Circling faces glow, all eyes Names of brothers, long since fled; Take the light; deep radiance flies, Merrily flushing overhead And fresh clusters, in their stead, Names of brothers, long since fled; Jubilant round fierce forest flame. Friendship too must make her claim: And fresh clusters, in their stead, But what songs, what memories end, Jubilant round fierce forest flame. When they tell of friend on friend? Friendship too must make her claim: And for them, I thank thy name. But what songs, what memories end, When they tell of friend on friend? Love alone of gifts, no shame Lessens, and I love thee: yet And for them, I thank thy name. Sound it but of echoes, let Love alone of gifts, no shame This my maiden music be, Lessens, and I love thee: yet Of the love I bear to thee, Sound it but of echoes, let Witness and interpreter, This my maiden music be, Mother mine: loved Winchester! Of the love I bear to thee, Witness and interpreter, Mother mine: loved Winchester! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CHURCH OF A DREAM; TO BERNHARD BERENSON by LIONEL PIGOT JOHNSON THE DARK ANGEL by LIONEL PIGOT JOHNSON A FRIEND by LIONEL PIGOT JOHNSON CELTIC SPEECH by LIONEL PIGOT JOHNSON ENTHUSIASTS by LIONEL PIGOT JOHNSON FRIENDS: 4 by LIONEL PIGOT JOHNSON HILL AND VALE by LIONEL PIGOT JOHNSON LOVE'S WAYS by LIONEL PIGOT JOHNSON MYSTIC AND CAVALIER by LIONEL PIGOT JOHNSON |
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