Francis William Lauderdale Adams
A Visitor In The Camp
To Mary Robinson
'WHAT, are you lost, you pretty little lady?
This is no place for such sweet things as you.
Our bodies, rank with sweat, will make you sicken,
And, you'll observe, our lives are rank lives too.'
'Oh no, I am not lost! Oh no, I've come here
(And I have brought my lute, see, in my hand)
To see you, and to sing of all you suffer
To the great World, and make it understand!'
'Well, say! If one of those who'd robbed you thousands,
Dropped you a sixpence in the gutter where
You lay and rotted, would you call her angel,
For all her charming smile and dainty air?'
'Oh no, I come not thus! Oh no, I've come here
With heart indignant, pity like a flame,
To try and help you!' — 'Pretty little lady,
It will be best you go back whence you came.
' ‘Enthusiasms’ we have such little time for!
In our rude camp we drill the whole day long.
When we return from out the serried Battle,
Come, and we'll listen to your pretty song!'
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(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
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Alfred Lord Tennyson
(6 August 1809 – 6 October 1892)
(13 September 1916 – 23 November 1990)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
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