Henry Austin Dobson

(18 January 1840 – 2 September 1921 / Plymouth)

Henry Austin Dobson Poems

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

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!

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