Henry Austin Dobson (18 January 1840 – 2 September 1921 / Plymouth)
A Miltonic Exercise
What need of votive Verse
To strew thy _Laureat Herse_
With that mix'd _Flora_ of th' _Aonian Hill_?
Or _Mincian_ vocall Reed,
That _Cam_ and _Isis_ breed,
When thine own Words are burning in us still?
_Bard, Prophet, Archimage!_
In this Cash-cradled Age,
We grate our scrannel Musick, and we dote:
Where is the Strain unknown,
Through Bronze or Silver blown,
That thrill'd the Welkin with thy woven Note?
Yes,--'we are selfish Men':
Yet would we once again
Might see _Sabrina_ braid her amber Tire;
Or watch the _Comus_ Crew
Sweep down the Glade; or view
Strange-streamer'd Craft from _Javan_ or _Gadire_!
Or could we catch once more,
High up, the Clang and Roar
Of Angel Conflict,--Angel Overthrow;
Or, with a World begun,
Behold the young-ray'd Sun
Flame in the Groves where the _Four Rivers_ go!
Ay me, I fondly dream!
Only the Storm-bird's Scream
Foretells of Tempest in the Days to come;
Nowhere is heard up-climb
The lofty lyric Rhyme,
And the 'God-gifted Organ-voice' is dumb.
Poet Other Poems
- A Dead Letter
- A Familiar Epistle
- A Gage D’Amour
- A Garden Song
- A Kiss
- A Miltonic Exercise
- A Pepys' 'Diary'
- A Persian Apologue
- A Pleasant Invective Against Printing
- A Rondeau to Ethel
- A Song Of The Four Seasons
- A Song Of The Greenaway Child
- A Welcome From The 'Johnson Club'
- An Epistle To An Editor
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (An Epistle To An Editor by Henry Austin Dobson )
Top 500 Poems
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley