A letter from abroad. I tear Its sheathing open, unaware What treasure gleams within; and there- Like bird from cage-…
Sir William Watson (1858 – 1935), was an English poet, popular in his time for the political content of his verse. He was born in Burley, in West Yorkshire. He was very much on the traditionalist wing of English poetry. He was a prolific poet of the 1890s, and a contributor to The Yellow Book, without 'decadent' associations. He was also a defender of Alfred, Lord Tennyson, as he dropped out of fashion. On Tennyson's death, Watson was a strong candidate for Poet Laureate but his earlier opposition to the Boer War had made him politically unsuitable and he was passed over for Alfred Austin.)
William Watson şiirleri
A beckoning spirit of gladness seemed afloat, That lightly danced in laughing air before us: The earth was all in tune, and you a note Of Nature's happy chorus.…
And these-are these indeed the end, This grinning skull, this heavy loam? Do all green ways whereby we wend Lead but to yon ignoble home?…
So, into Cornwall you go down, And leave me loitering here in town. For me, the ebb of London's wave, Not ocean-thunder in Cornish cave.…
Seven moons, new moons, had eastward set their horns Averted from the sun; seven moons, old moons, Westward their sun-averted horns had set; Since Angelo had brought his young brid…
April, April, Laugh thy girlish laughter; Then, the moment after, Weep thy girlish tears!…
I Wave and wind and willow-tree Speak a speech that no man knoweth;…
Westward a league the city lay, with one Cloud's imminent umbrage o'er it: when behold, The incendiary sun Dropped from the womb o' the vapour, rolled…
Not here, O teeming City, was it meet Thy lover, thy most faithful, should repose, But where the multitudinous life-tide flows Whose ocean-murmur was to him more sweet…
Thou burden of all songs the earth hath sung, Thou retrospect in Time's reverted eyes, Thou metaphor of everything that dies, That dies ill-starred, or dies beloved and young…
That beauty such as thine Can die indeed, Were ordinance too wantonly malign: No wit may reconcile so cold a creed…
O Master, if immortals suffer aught Of sadness like to ours, and in like sighs And with like overflow of darkened eyes Disburden them, I know not; but methought,…
Last night the seawind was to me A metaphor of liberty, And every wave along the beach A starlit music seemed to be.…
(12TH OCTOBER 1492) From his adventurous prime He dreamed the dream sublime:…
Dawn - and a magical stillness: on earth, quiescence profound; On the waters a vast Content, as of hunger appeased and stayed; In the heavens a silence that seems not mere privatio…
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