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Idyllic Monologues: Old and New World Verses

Chapter 77: Transcriber's note
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About This Book

A varied assortment of lyrical and narrative poems that shift between pastoral idylls and dramatic monologues. Several pieces linger on rural landscapes, gardens, and seasonal detail, while others enact intimate tales of love, betrayal, and wartime dislocation through singular voices. The poet interweaves classical and medieval allusion with elegiac meditations on art, memory, and human longing, and includes occasional playful or philosophical addresses. Rich imagery and formal cadence bind together garden scenes, haunted houses, mythic figures, and reflective occasional pieces, balancing storytelling momentum with contemplative lyricism.

The old enthusiasms
Are dead, quite dead, in me;
Dead the aspiring spasms
Of art and poesy,
That opened magic chasms,
Once, of wild mystery,
In youth's rich Araby.
That opened magic chasms.
The longing and the care
Are mine; and, helplessly,
The heartache and despair
For what can never be.
More than my mortal share
Of sad mortality,
It seems, God gives to me,
More than my mortal share.
O world! O time! O fate!
Remorseless trinity!
Let not your wheel abate
Its iron rotary!—
Turn round! nor make me wait,
Bound to it neck and knee,
Hope's final agony!—
Turn round! nor make me wait.

Transcriber's note

The following changes have been made to the text:

Page 25: Was 'beach' (Of an old beech)

Page 46: Was 'marrige' (Her marriage eve)

Page 53: Was 'slighest' (whose slightest prick)