C Charles Stuart Calverley

Charles Stuart Calverley

24 şiir · ? — 1884 · Martley, Worchestershire

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Charles Stuart Calverley was a 19th century English poet. His sometimes witty pieces led him to be known as the He came into the world on the 22nd December 1831 in the Worcestershire town of Martley with the surname Blayds. His father was a church minister who changed the family name back to Calverley when Charles was 21 years old, this being the family’s original name before Blayds was adopted in 1807. He went to the prestigious Harrow School before going up to college in Oxford in 1850. He excelled at Oxford in everything that he did, being both a brilliant scholar and sportsman, and he was hugely popular amongst his fellow students. It was clear from the start that Blayds, as he was then known, had a talent for poetry and, during his second year, for his Latin verse, he was awarded the Chancellor”s prize. There is a story that suggests that his friends locked the door to his rooms, with Blayds inside, and would not release him until he had written what they predicted would be the prize-winning piece. However, despite his talent, he fell foul of the college authorities and reverted to the surname Calverley moving to college in Cambridge a year later. Remarkably he repeated his achievement at Cambridge, becoming the sole undergraduate student to win the Chancellor”s prize both at Oxford and Cambridge. His success at both colleges was based on his mastery of English, Latin and Greek literature. In 1858 he became a fellow of the college and was working hard on a collection of poetry called This was published in 1862. For a time it looked as though he might take up a legal career. He took the bar in the year 1865 but was prevented from establishing himself in this profession due to an accident which crippled him and he lived his latter years as an invalid. This did not prevent him from producing a substantial body of work though and he is best known for a poem called which can still be seen to this day reproduced on a plaque attached to the wall of a Cambridge building that was formerly a tobacconists premises. Here are the final two verses of this poem with the proprietor’s name mentioned at the end: He translated works by the likes of Theocritus into English in 1869 and, three years earlier, he produced a collection called Seventeen years after his death his brother in law Walter Joseph Sendall published Calverley’s Complete Works. Sendall, who was a fellow student at Cambridge, added a biographical note. Calverley earned much praise for his often elegant and sometimes humorous work and the biographer and politician George W. E. Russell was quoted as follows: He never really recovered from his earlier accident and what could have been a brilliant career was blighted by poor health during his later years. Towards the end he developed a kidney condition known then as Bright’s disease which eventually led to his early death. This condition is commonly known nowadays as acute or chronic nephritis. Charles Stuart Calverley died on the 17th February 1884 at the age of 52.

Charles Stuart Calverley şiirleri

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A is an Angel of blushing eighteen: B is the Ball where the Angel was seen: C is her Chaperone, who cheated at cards: D is the Deuxtemps, with Frank of the Guards:…

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In those old days which poets say were golden -- (Perhaps they laid the gilding on themselves: And, if they did, I'm all the more beholden To those brown dwellers in my dusty shelv…

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I know not why my soul is rack'd: Why I ne'er smile as was my wont: I only know that, as a fact, I don't.…

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I. She stood at Greenwich, motionless amid The ever-shifting crowd of passengers.…

I KNOW not of what we ponder’d Or made pretty pretence to talk, As, her hand within mine, we wander’d Tow’rd the pool by the lime-tree walk,…

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'Dr. Birch's young friends will reassemble to-day, Feb. 1st.' White is the wold, and ghostly The dank and leafless trees;…

Farewell, farewell! Before our prow Leaps in white foam the noisy channel, A tourist's cap is on my brow, My legs are cased in tourists' flannel:…

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"Forever": 'tis a single word! Our rude forefathers deemed it two: Can you imagine so absurd A view?…

Some vast amount of years ago, Ere all my youth had vanished from me, A boy it was my lot to know, Whom his familiar friends called Tommy.…

Often, when o'er tree and turret, Eve a dying radiance flings, By that ancient pile I linger Known familiarly as 'King's.'…

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Now o'er the landscape crowd the deepening shades, And the shut lily cradles not the bee; The red deer couches in the forest glades, And faint the echoes of the slumberous sea:…

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Canst thou love me, lady? I've not learn'd to woo: Thou art on the shady Side of sixty too.…

In moss-prankt dells which the sunbeams flatter (And heaven it knoweth what that may mean; Meaning, however, is no great matter) Where woods are a-tremble with words a-tween.…

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