Poem by Henry Austin Dobson

* * *

Rondeau

IN after days when grasses high
O'er-top the stone where I shall lie,
   Though ill or well the world adjust
   My slender claim to honour'd dust,
I shall not question nor reply.

I shall not see the morning sky;
I shall not hear the night-wind sigh;
   I shall be mute, as all men must
   In after days!

But yet, now living, fain would I
That some one then should testify,
   Saying--'He held his pen in trust
   To Art, not serving shame or lust.'
Will none?--Then let my memory die
   In after days! 

1. On the Future of Poetry
2. When Burbadge Played
3. Incognita
4. The Forgotten Grave
5. The Last Proof

Print

1316 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version