Thomas Love Peacock
Biography of Thomas Love Peacock
Thomas Love Peacock was born in 1785, in Dorset, at Weymouth. He was the son of a glass merchant, who died three years after he was born. He was raised at his grandfather's house in Chertsey, by his mother. Despite the fact that his formal schooling ended before his teens (he never attended a university), it is important to note that he read widely in five languages throughout his lifetime.
When he could no longer support himself without working, he took a job in 1819 with the East India Company. The next year, he married Jane Gryffydh, daughter to a Welsh rector. Peacock's daughter later married George Meredith, also a literary man.
Peacock mixed with many of his contemporary Romantic poets. He often openly criticized them, but this never gave him much trouble. His best known work is his satiricle prose. His novels consist chiefly of witty conversation with sparse action. The characters were often burlesque, but subtle imitations of famous men of his day.
In 1866, the hardheaded, tounge-in-cheeked Peacock died in his library at Halliford-on-Thames, after refusing to leave his precious books to burn.
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Thomas Love Peacock Poems
Beyond The Sea
Beyond the sea, beyond the sea, My heart is gone, far, far from me; And ever on its track will flee My thoughts, my dreams, beyond the sea.
Love And Age
I play'd with you 'mid cowslips blowing, When I was six and you were four; When garlands weaving, flower-balls throwing, Were pleasures soon to please no more.
Life's Uncertain Day
Castles In The Air
My thoughts by night are often filled With visions false as fair: For in the past alone I build My castles in the air.
Rich & Poor; Or Saint & Sinner
The poor man's sins are glaring; In the face of ghostly warning He is caught in the fact Of an overt act---
August, 1842 with a remembrance of August, 1807
Instead Of Sitting Wrapped Up In Flannel
Instead of sitting wrapped up in flannel With rheumatism in every joint, I wish I was in the English Channel, Just going 'round the Lizard Point
The Legend Of St. Laura
Saint Laura, in her sleep of death, Preserves beneath the tomb ---'Tis willed where what is willed must be--- In incorruptibility
The Lady, The Knight, And The Friar
THE LADY. O cavalier! what dost thou here, Thy tuneful vigils keeping;
Margaret Love Peacock
Long night succeeds thy little day; Oh blighted blossom! can it be, That this grey stone, and grassy clay, Have clos'd our anxious care of thee?
The Morning Of Love
O! The spring-time of life is the season of blooming, And the morning of love is the season of joy; Ere noontide and summer, with radiance consuming, Look down on their beauty, to parch and destroy.
Lines On The Death Of Julia
Accept, bright spirit, reft in life's best bloom This votive wreath to thy untimely tomb. Formed to adorn all scenes, and charm in all, The fire-side circle, and the courtly hall;
Seamen three! What men be ye? Gotham's three wise men we be. Whither in your bowl so free? To rake the moon from out the sea.
Milestone: All my troubles disappear, When the dinner-bell I hear,
The Flower Of Love
'Tis said the rose is Love's own flower,
Its blush so bright, its thorns so many;
And winter on its bloom has power,
But has not on its sweetness any.
For though young Love's ethereal rose
Will droop on Age's wintry bosom,
Yet still its faded leaves disclose
The fragrance of their earliest blossom.