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e Argument of His Book

I will get me a garret again,
ore, like a Parsee, the sunset's fires,
e the Goddess, by vigil and pain,
h the sparrows among the spires.

han should live in a garret aloof,
ve few friends, and go poorly clad,
n old hat stopping the chink in the roof,
o the Goddess constant and glad.

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Thomas Bailey Aldrich [1837-1907]

THE SOVEREIGNS

who create rob death of half its stings;
ife is given for the Muse's sake;
ught they build their palaces, and make
ng entities and beauteous things;
re the Poets-they give airy wings
pes marmorean; or they overtake
leal with the brush, or, soaring, wake
the rolling clouds their glorious strings.
bet is the only potentate;

eptre reaches o'er remotest zones;
ought remembered and his golden tones
in the ears of nations uncreate,

n for ages and reverberate

Kings are dust beside forgotten thrones.

Lloyd Mifflin [1846

E ARGUMENT OF HIS BOOK

of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers, ril, May, of June, and July flowers; of May-poles, hock-carts, wassails, wakes, legrooms, brides, and of their bridal cakes. of Youth, of Love, and have access ese, to sing of cleanly wantonness; of dews, of rains, and, piece by piece, m, of oil, of spice, and ambergris. of times trans-shifting; and I write oses first came red, and lilies white;

I write of groves, of twilights, and I sing
The court of Mab, and of the Fairy King.
I write of Hell; I sing, and ever shall,
Of Heaven, and hope to have it after all.

Robert Herrick [1591-1674]

ENVOY

Go, little book, and wish to all

Flowers in the garden, meat in the hall,

A bit of wine, a spice of wit,

A house with lawns enclosing it,

A living river by the door,

A nightingale in the sycamore!

Robert Louis Stevenson (1850-1894)

ENVOY

Go, songs, for ended is our brief, sweet play;
Go, children of swift joy and tardy sorrow:
And some are sung, and that was yesterday,
And some unsung, and that may be to-morrow.

Go forth; and if it be o'er stony way,

Old joy can lend what never grief must borrow: And it was sweet, and that was yesterday,

And sweet is sweet, though purchased with sorrow.

Go, songs, and come not back from your far way:
And if men ask you why ye smile and sorrow,
Tell them ye grieve, for your hearts know To-day,
Tell them ye smile, for your eyes know To-morrow.
Francis Thompson [1859?—1907]

THE SONNET'S VOICE

A METRICAL LESSON BY THE SEASHORE

YON silvery billows breaking on the beach
Fall back in foam beneath the star-shine clear,
The while my rhymes are murmuring in your car
A restless lore like that the billows teach;

For on these sonnet-waves my soul would reach

The Sonnet

own depths, and rest within you, dear,
gh the billowy voices yearning here,
ure strives to find a human speech.
is a wave of melody:

ving waters of the impassioned soul
of tidal music one and whole
the "octave"; then, returning free,
g surges in the "sestet" roll
the deeps of Life's tumultuous sea.
Theodore Watts-Dunton [1836--

THE SONNET

is a moment's monument,from the Soul's eternity

ad deathless hour. Look that it be,

for lustral rite or dire portent,

n arduous fulness reverent:

in ivory or in ebony,

r Night may rule; and let Time see ring crest impearled and orient.

is a coin: its face reveals

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-its converse, to what Power 'tis due:→ for tribute to the august appeals

or dower in Love's high retinue,

or, 'mid the dark wharf's cavernous breath,

on's palm it pay the toll to Death.

Dante Gabriel Rossetti [1828–1882]

THE SONNET

sa sonnet? 'Tis the pearly shell

urmurs of the far-off murmuring sea; ›us jewel carved most curiously;

ttle picture painted well.

a sonnet? 'Tis the tear that fell

great poet's hidden ecstasy;

dged sword, a star, a song,-ah me!

nes a heavy-tolling funeral bell.

s the flame that shook with Dante's breath,

emn organ whereon Milton played,

And the clear glass where Shakespeare's shadow falls; A sea this is, beware who ventureth!

For like a fiord the narrow floor is laid

Mid-ocean deep sheer to the mountain walls.

Richard Watson Gilder [1844-1909]

THE SONNET

I

THE Sonnet is a fruit which long hath slept
And ripened on life's sun-warmed orchard-wall;
A gem which, hardening in the mystical
Mine of man's heart, to quenchless flame hath leapt;
A medal of pure gold art's nympholept
Stamps with love's lips and brows imperial;

A branch from memory's briar, whereon the fall
Of thought-eternalizing tears hath wept:

A star that shoots athwart star-steadfast heaven;
A fluttering aigrette of tossed passion's brine;
A leaf from youth's immortal missal torn;
A bark across dark seas of anguish driven;
A feather dropped from breast-wings aquiline;
A silvery dream shunning red lips of morn.

II

There is no mood, no heart-throb fugitive,
No spark from man's imperishable mind,
No moment of man's will, that may not find
Form in the Sonnet; and thenceforward live
A potent elf, by art's imperative

Magic to crystal spheres of song confined:
As in the moonstone's orb pent spirits wind
'Mid dungeon depths day-beams they take and give.
Spare thou no pains; carve thought's pure diamond
With fourteen facets, scattering fire and light:--
Uncut, what jewel burns but darkly bright?
And Prospero vainly waves his runic wand,

If, spurning art's inexorable law,

In Ariel's prison-sphere he leave one flaw.

Metrical Feet

III

is a world, where feelings caught phantasy, combine and fuse

ed elements 'neath mystic dews

he ether round man's dwelling wrought;
eart's content, star-fragrance fraught
ices from the breathing fires

n everlasting endless gyres
nd encircling orbs of thought.

's world hath two fixed hemispheres:
the sun with fierce strength masculine
en rays and bids the noonday shine;

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> the moon and the stars, concordant powers, rays, and daylight disappears

›dious music of still hours.

John Addington Symonds [1840-1893]

THE RONDEAU

d me try, Blue Eyes, to write
leau. What! Forthwith?-To-night?
ct. Some skill I have, 'tis true;
thirteen lines!--and rhymed on two!-
in," as well. Ah, hapless plight!
here are five lines—ranged aright.
Gallic bonds, I feared, would fright
easy Muse. They did, till you—
You bid me try!

hakes them eight. The port's in sight:
because your eyes are bright!

just a pair to end in "oo,"

n maids command, what can't we do! ! The Rondeau, tasteful, light,

You bid me try!

French of Voiture by Austin Dobson [1840

METRICAL FEET

LESSON FOR A BOY

TROCHEE trips from long to short;
From long to long in solemn sort

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