John Kenyon Poems

A.—
By no faint shame withheld from general gaze,
'Tis thus, my friend, we bask us in the blaze;
Where deeds, more surface-smooth than inly bright,
...

Two streams there were, two streams from separate founts,
Both beautiful to see, and one—most holy;
(From Siloa this, and this from Hippocrene)
...

Lady! you ask a farewell verse;
Reluctant I obey.
Far, gladlier far, would we rehearse
Some rhyme to bid thee stay.
...

Oh! breezy harp! that, with thy fond complaining,
Hast held my willing ear this whole night long;
...

Why, jeering Echo! thus renew my pain,
And give me mine own sorrows back again?
Speak but to those who hail thee and rejoice,
...

Hayter! almost I deemed the pencil's art
Too weak to cope with that renownèd story,
...

Blest is the bard, whose modest pride,
Unlured by vapour gleams of wit,
Still clings to nature as a guide
...

Walton! dear Angler! when, a school-freed boy,
Of varnished rod and silken tackle proud,
I sought the brooks, or by some still deep pool,
...

Life is an Album; and my free
Imagination loves to look
And read, with happy augury,
Thy life's as yet scarce opened book.
...

I marked her grave and nun-like air,
When all beside were gay and free;
And true, I said, the face is fair,
...