Henry Austin Dobson

(18 January 1840 – 2 September 1921 / Plymouth)

Henry Austin Dobson Poems

1. When Burbadge Played 4/14/2010
2. The Sun-Dial 1/18/2012
3. When There Is Peace 1/18/2012
4. The Last Proof 1/18/2012
5. The Happy Printer 1/18/2012
6. The Cradle 4/14/2010
7. The Passionate Printer To His Love 4/14/2010
8. To Richard Watson Gilder 4/14/2010
9. When This Old World Was New 4/14/2010
10. The Friend Of Humanity And The Rhymer 1/18/2012
11. 'With Pipe And Flute' 1/18/2012
12. You Bid Me Try 4/14/2010
13. The Ballad[e] Of The Bore 4/14/2010
14. The Rondeau 4/14/2010
15. To A Greek Girl 4/14/2010
16. The Ladies Of St. James’s 4/14/2010
17. The Dance Of Death 4/14/2010
18. The Forgotten Grave 4/14/2010
19. A Miltonic Exercise 1/18/2012
20. The Paradox Of Time 4/14/2010
21. On A Nankin Plate 4/14/2010
22. An Epistle To An Editor 1/18/2012
23. A Welcome From The 'Johnson Club' 1/18/2012
24. On A Fan That Belonged To The Marquise De Pompadour 4/14/2010
25. A Song Of The Greenaway Child 1/18/2012
26. A Pepys' 'Diary' 1/18/2012
27. A Pleasant Invective Against Printing 1/18/2012
28. A Dead Letter 4/14/2010
29. The Ballad[e] Of Imitation 4/14/2010
30. A Rondeau To Ethel 4/14/2010
31. Rondeau 4/14/2010
32. A Familiar Epistle 4/14/2010
33. A Gage D’amour 4/14/2010
34. A Persian Apologue 4/14/2010
35. O Fons Bandusae 4/14/2010
36. On The Future Of Poetry 4/14/2010
37. On The Hurry Of This Time 4/14/2010
38. For A Copy Of Theocritus 4/14/2010
39. Before Sedan 4/14/2010
40. Rose Leaves 4/14/2010
Best Poem of Henry Austin Dobson

Incognita

Just for a space I met her –
Just for a day in the train!
It began when she feared it would wet her,
That tiniest spurtle of rain:
So we tucked a great rug in the sashes,
And carefully padded the pane;
And I sorrow in sackcloth and ashes,
Longing to do it again!

Then it grew when she begged me to reach her
A dressing-case under the seat;
She was “really so tiny a creature,
That she needed a stool for her feet.! ”
Which was promptly arranged to her order
With a care that was even minute,
And a glimpse – of an open- worked ...

Read the full of Incognita

You Bid Me Try

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 -

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