Thomas Sturge Moore

Thomas Sturge Moore Poems

Thomas Sturge Moore Biography

Thomas Sturge Moore (March 4, 1870– July 18, 1944) was an English poet, author and artist. He was born on 4 March 1870 and was educated at Dulwich College, the Croydon Art School and Lambeth Art School. He was a long-term friend and correspondent of W. B. Yeats. He was also a playwright, writing a Medea influenced by Yeats' drama and the Japanese Noh style. Sturge Moore was a prolific poet and his subjects included, morality, art and the spirit. His first pamphlet, Two Poems, was printed privately in 1893 and his first book of verse, The Vinedresser, was published in 1899. His love for poetry lead him to become an active member of the Poetry Recital Society. His first (of 31) plays to be produced was Aphrodite against Artemis (1906), staged by the Literary Theatre Club of which he became a member in 1908. He received a civil list pension in 1920 in recognition for his contribution to literature and in 1930 he was nominated as one of seven candidates for the position of Poet Laureate. He died on 18 July 1944. He adopted the name 'Sturge' as a way of avoiding confusion with the poet Thomas Moore. He was the brother of the famous philosopher George Edward Moore, one of the founders of the Analytic tradition in philosophy.)

The Best Poem Of Thomas Sturge Moore

Idleness

O idleness, too fond of me,
Begone, I know and hate thee!
Nothing canst thou of pleasure see
In one that so doth rate thee;

For empty are both mind and heart
While thou with me dost linger;
More profit would to thee impart
A babe that sucks its finger.

I know thou hast a better way
To spend these hours thou squand'rest;
Some lad toils in the trough to-day
Who groans because thou wand'rest;

A bleating sheep he dowses now
Or wrestles with ram's terror;
Ah, 'mid the washing's hubbub, how
His sighs reproach thine error!

He knows and loves thee, Idleness;
For when his sheep are browsing,
His open eyes enchant and bless
A mind divinely drowsing;

No slave to sleep, he wills and sees
From hill-lawns the brown tillage;
Green winding lanes and clumps of trees,
Far town or nearer village,

The sea itself; the fishing feet
Where more, thine idle lovers,
Heark'ning to sea-mews find thee sweet
Like him who hears the plovers.

Begone; those haul their ropes at sea,
These plunge sheep in yon river:
Free, free from toil thy friends, and me
From Idleness deliver!

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