From: Grunberg <sto...@ev...> - 2009-09-01 10:01:58
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Rase, Although I made it up myself. But I and Blake, we really constitute a pair, Each being rather like an artless woodland elf. And O the stars! I cannot say I see a star just now, Not at this time of day; But anyhow The stars are all my brothers; (This verse is shorter than the others). O Constitution Hill! (This verse is shorter still). Ah! London, London in the Spring! You are, you know you are, So full of curious sights, Especially by nights. From gilded bar to gilded bar Youth goes his giddy whirl, His heart fulfilled of Music-Hall, His arm fulfilled of girl! I frankly call That last effect a perfect pearl! I know it's Not given to many poets To frame so fair a thing As this of mine, of Spring. Indeed, the world grows Lilliput All but A precious few, the heirs of utter godlihead, Who wear the yellow flower of blameless bodlihead! And they, with Laureates dead, look down On smaller fry unworthy of the crown, Mere mushroom men, puff-balls that advertise And bravely think to brush the skies. Great is advertisement with little men! _Moi, qui vous parle, L- G-ll--nn-_, Have told them so; I ought to know! 8. YET. (AFTER F. E. W.) Sing me a drawing-room song, darling! Sing by the sunset's glow; Now while the shadows are long, darling; Now while the lights are low; Something so chaste and so coy, darling! Something that melts the chest; Milder than even Molloy, darling! Better than Bingham's best. Sing me a drawing-room song, darling! Sing as you sang of yore, Lisping of love that is strong, darling! Strong as a big barn-door; Let the true knight be bold, darling! Let him arrive too late; Stick in a bower of gold, darling! Stick in a golden gate. Sing me a drawing-room song, darling! Bear on the angels' wings Children that know no wrong, darling! Little cherubic things! Sing of their sunny hair, darling! Get them to die in June; Wake, if you can, on the stair, darling! Echoes of tiny shoon. Sing me a drawing-room song, darling! S |