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Poem by Henry Austin Dobson


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You bid me try, blue-eyes, to write
A Rondeau. What! - forthwith? - tonight?
Reflect. Some skill I have, 'tis true; But thirteen lines! - and rimed on two! 'Refrain' as well. Ah, Hapless plight!

Still, there are five lines - ranged aright.
These Gallic bonds, I feared, would fright
My easy Muse. They did, till you - You bid me try!

That makes them eight. The port's in sight -
'Tis all because your eyes are bright!
Now just a pair to end in 'oo' - When maids command, what can't we do? Behold! - the rondeau, tasteful, light,
You bid me try! 



Henry Austin Dobson


Henry Austin Dobson's other poems:
  1. On a Nankin Plate
  2. The Passionate Printer to His Love
  3. On the Future of Poetry
  4. For a Copy of Theocritus
  5. Incognita


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