Section: «Poems»
Verse (ancient Greek ὁ στίχος — row, structure), a term in versification used in several meanings:
artistic speech organized by division into rhythmically commensurate segments; poetry in the narrow sense; in particular, it implies the properties of versification of a particular tradition ("antique verse", "Akhmatova's verse", etc.);
a line of poetic text organized according to a certain rhythmic pattern ("My uncle of the most honest rules").
The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part I: To Manon: Xvii
JOY'S TREACHERYI had a live joy once and pampered her,For I had brought her from the ``golden East,''To lie when nights were cold upon my..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part I: To Manon: Xvi
HE ARGUES WITH HIS LIFEMy life, what strange mad garments hast thou on,Now that I see thee truly and am wise!Thou wild, lost Proteus, strangling and..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part I: To Manon: Xv
COMPLAINING THAT HE HAD FALLEN AMONG THIEVESOh, Lytton, I have gambled with my soul,And, like a spendthrift, pawned my heritageTo pitiless Jews, and..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part I: To Manon: Xix
HE PROTESTS, NOTWITHSTANDING, HIS LOVETo be cast forth from the fair light of heavenInto the outer darkness and there lie,Through unrecorded years of..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part I: To Manon: Xiv
HE HAS FALLEN FROM THE HEIGHT OF HIS LOVELove, how ignobly hast thou met thy doom!Ill--seasoned scaffolding by which, full--fraughtWith passionate..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part I: To Manon: Xiii
HE DARES NOT DIEFour hours by the clock! How strange it is! Four hoursSince love and life, the future and the past,Died with the shutting of these..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part I: To Manon: Xii
ON READING CERTAIN LETTERSReading these lines, this record of lost daysWhere I am not, and yet where love has been,This tale of passions consecrate..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part I: To Manon: X
ON HER FORGIVENESS OF A WRONGThis is not virtue. To forgive were greatIf love were in the issue and not gold.But wrongs there are 'tis treason to..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part I: To Manon: Viii
AS TO HIS CHOICE OF HERIf I had chosen thee, thou shouldst have beenA virgin proud, untamed, immaculate,Chaste as the morning star, a saint, a..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part I: To Manon: Vii
ON HER VANITYWhat are these things thou lovest? Vanity.To see men turn their heads when thou dost pass;To be the signboard and the..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part I: To Manon: Vi
IN PRAISE OF HIS FATEWhen I hear others speak of this and thatIn our fools' lives which might have better gone,Complaining idly of too niggard..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part I: To Manon: V
ON THE POWER OF HER BEAUTYI am lighthearted now. An hour agoThere was a tempest in my heaven, a flameOf sullen lightning under a bent browAnd a dull..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part I: To Manon: Ix
ON HER WAYWARDNESSThis is rank slavery. It better wereTo till the thankless earth with sweat of brow,Following dull oxen 'neath a goad of careTo a..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. I
TO ONE IN A HIGH POSITIONTo you, a poet, glorious, heaven--born,One who is not a poet but a sonOf the earth earthy, sick and travel--wornAnd weary..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
The Idler’s Calendar. Twelve Sonnets For The Months. September
FEAST OF ST. PARTRIDGEThe only saint in all our calendarIs good St. Partridge. 'Tis his feast to--day,The happiest day of all a happy year,And..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
The Idler’s Calendar. Twelve Sonnets For The Months. October
GAMBLING AT MONACOA jewelled kingdom set impregnableIn gardens green which front the violet sea,A happy fortress shut and guarded well,And cradled..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
The Idler’s Calendar. Twelve Sonnets For The Months. November
ACROSS COUNTRYNovember's here. Once more the pink we don,And on old Centaur, at the coverside,Sit changing pleasant greetings one by oneWith friend..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
The Idler’s Calendar. Twelve Sonnets For The Months. May
THE LONDON SEASONI still love London in the month of May,By an old habit, spite of dust and din.I love the fair adulterous world, whose wayIs by the..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
The Idler’s Calendar. Twelve Sonnets For The Months. March
A WEEK AT PARISWhen loud March from the East begins to blow,And earth and heaven are black, then off we hieBy the night train to Paris, where we..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
The Idler’s Calendar. Twelve Sonnets For The Months. June
A DAY AT HAMPTON COURTIt is our custom, once in every year,Mine and two others', when the chestnut treesAre white at Bushey, Ascot being near,To..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
The Idler’s Calendar. Twelve Sonnets For The Months. July
GOODWOODTo the high breezes of the Goodwood DownLondon has fled, and there awhile forgetsIts weariness of limb on lawns new--mownAnd in green shadows..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
The Idler’s Calendar. Twelve Sonnets For The Months. January
COVER SHOOTINGThe week at Whinwood next to Christmas week.Six guns, no more, but all good men and true,Of the clean--visaged sort, with ruddy..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
The Idler’s Calendar. Twelve Sonnets For The Months. February
UNDER THE SPEAKER'S GALLERYIn all the comedy of human thingsWhat is more mirthful than for those, who sitFar from the great world's vain..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
The Idler’s Calendar. Twelve Sonnets For The Months. December
AWAY TO EGYPTEnough, enough! This winter is too rude,Too dark of countenance, of tooth too keen.Nature finds rebels now in flesh and blood,And hearts..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
The Idler’s Calendar. Twelve Sonnets For The Months. August
ON THE THAMESThe river Thames has many a dear delightIn summer days for souls which know not guile,Or souls too careless of the vain world's spiteTo..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt