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    Green Bays. Verses and Parodies
    Green Bays. Verses and Parodies
    Green Bays. Verses and Parodies
    Ebook96 pages37 minutes

    Green Bays. Verses and Parodies

    By Arthur Thomas Quiller-Couch

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    Read preview
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherArchive Classics
    Release dateNov 27, 2013
    Green Bays. Verses and Parodies

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      Book preview

      Green Bays. Verses and Parodies - Arthur Thomas Quiller-Couch

      The Project Gutenberg EBook of Green Bays. Verses and Parodies by Arthur Thomas Quiller-Couch

      This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net

      Title: Green Bays. Verses and Parodies

      Author: Arthur Thomas Quiller-Couch

      Release Date: October 18, 2005 [EBook #16898]

      Language: English

      *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GREEN BAYS. VERSES AND PARODIES ***

      Produced by Lionel Sear

      GREEN BAYS.

      VERSES AND PARODIES.

      BY ARTHUR THOMAS QUILLER-COUCH (Q).

      ET, SI NON ALIUM LATE JACTARET ODOREM LAURUS ERAT.

      Most of the verses in this volume were written at Oxford, and first appeared in the 'Oxford Magazine.' A few are reprinted from 'The Speaker' and a few from certain works of fiction published by Messrs. Cassell and Co.

      Q.

      CONTENTS.

      IN A COLLEGE GARDEN.

      THE SPLENDID SPUR.

      THE WHITE MOTH.

      IRISH MELODIES I. TIM THE DRAGOON. II. KENMARE RIVER.

      LADY JANE (SAPPHICS).

      A TRIOLET.

      AN OATH.

      UPON GRACIOSA, WALKING AND TALKING.

      WRITTEN UPON LOVE'S FRONTIER-POST.

      TITANIA.

      MEASURE FOR MEASURE.

      RETROSPECTION.

      WHY THIS VOLUME IS SO THIN.

      NUGAE OXONIENSES.

      TWILIGHT.

      WILLALOO.

      THE SAIR STROKE.

      THE DOOM OF THE ESQUIRE BEDELL.

      'BEHOLD! I AM NOT ONE THAT GOES TO LECTURES.'

      CALIBAN UPON RUDIMENTS.

      SOLVITUR ACRIS HIEMPS.

      A LETTER.

      OCCASIONAL VERSES.

      ANECDOTE FOR FATHERS.

      UNITY PUT QUARTERLY.

      FIRE!

      DE TEA FABULA.

      L'ENVOI (AS I LAYE A-DREAMYNGE).

      IN A COLLEGE GARDEN.

           Senex. Saye, cushat, callynge from the brake,

                     What ayles thee soe to pyne?

                   Thy carefulle heart shall cease to ake

                       When dayes be fyne

                       And greene thynges twyne:

                     Saye, cushat, what thy griefe to myne?

          Turtur. Naye, gossyp, loyterynge soe late,

                     What ayles thee thus to chyde?

                   My love is fled by garden-gate;

                       Since Lammas-tyde

                       I wayte my bryde.

                     Saye, gossyp, whom dost thou abyde?

           Senex. Loe! I am he, the 'Lonelie Manne,'

                     Of Time forgotten quite,

                   That no remembered face may scanne—

                       Sadde eremyte,

                       I wayte tonyghte

                     Pale Death, nor any other wyghte.

                   O cushat, cushat, callynge lowe,

                     Goe waken Time from sleepe:

                   Goe whysper in his ear, that soe

                       His besom sweepe

                       Me to that heape

                     Where all my recollections keepe.

                   Hath he forgott? Or did I viewe

                     A ghostlye companye

                   This even, by the dismalle yewe,

                       Of faces three

                       That beckoned mee

                     To land where no repynynges bee?

                   O Harrye, Harrye, Tom and Dicke,

                     Each lost companion!

                   Why loyter I among the quicke,

                       When ye are gonne?

                       Shalle I alone

                     Delayinge crye 'Anon, Anon'?

                   Naye, let the spyder have my gowne,

                     To brayde therein her veste.

                   My cappe shal serve, now I 'goe downe,'

                       For mouse's neste.

                       Loe! this is best.

                     I care not, soe I gayne my reste.

      THE SPLENDID SPUR.

           Not on the neck of prince or hound,

             Nor on a woman's finger twin'd,

           May gold from the deriding ground

             Keep sacred that we sacred bind:

                      Only the heel

                      Of splendid steel

             Shall stand secure on sliding fate,

             When golden navies weep their freight.

           The scarlet hat, the laurell'd stave

              Are measures, not the springs, of worth;

           In a wife's

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