Aubrey Vincent Beardsley Poems

Along the path that skirts the wood,
The three musicians wend their way,
Pleased with their thoughts, each other’s mood,
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The 'Valiant' was a noble bark
As ever ploughed the sea,
A noble crew she also had
As ever there might be.
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Of all kinds of conveyances, I think the omnibus
For many little reasons should be voted best by us;
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Through sorrowís mist Godís glory shines most bright,
Then may we feel His presence doubly nigh.
Save for the dark no stars would stud the sky.
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The lights are shining dimly round about,
The Path is dark, I cannot see ahead;
And so I go as one perplexed with doubt,
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Here is the tale of Carrousel,
The barber of Meridian Street.
He cut, and coiffed, and shaved so well,
That all the world was at his feet.
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The Café Strelitz was almost empty.
Upon a hot midday in July, Don Juan wandered into the
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The courts of love are fair to see
Built of shining masonry
Quaintly carved in olden day
By the fairies’ hands they say.
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Carelessly coiffed, with sash half slipping down
Cravat mis-tied, and tassels left to stream,
I walked haphazard through the early town,
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