Alfred Austin

(30 May 1835 – 2 June 1913 / Headingley)

Alfred Austin Poems

201. A Christmas Carol 4/8/2010
202. A Meeting 4/8/2010
203. In The Month When Sings The Cuckoo 4/8/2010
204. A Dialogue At Fiesole 4/8/2010
205. A Captive Throstle 4/8/2010
206. Love's Trinity 4/8/2010
207. At Vaucluse 4/8/2010
208. Sisyphus 4/8/2010
209. A Question 4/8/2010
210. A Woman’s Apology 4/8/2010
211. A Florilegium 4/8/2010
212. At Shelley’s House At Lerici 4/8/2010
213. At Shelley’s Grave 4/8/2010
214. A Poet’s Eightieth Birthday 4/8/2010
215. When I Am Gone 4/8/2010
216. A Farmhouse Dirge 4/8/2010
217. A Border Burn 4/8/2010
218. A Birthday 4/7/2010
219. A Dream Of England 4/8/2010
220. Agatha 1/1/2004
221. A Farewell To Youth 4/8/2010
222. A Portrait 4/8/2010
223. Give Me A Roof Where Wisdom Dwells 4/7/2010
224. A Night In June 4/8/2010
225. A Defence Of English Spring 4/8/2010
226. A Farewell 4/8/2010
227. Free Will And Fate 4/8/2010
228. A November Note 4/8/2010
229. A Fragment 4/8/2010
230. A Snow-White Lily 4/8/2010
231. Is Life Worth Living? 4/8/2010
232. A Country Nosegay 4/8/2010
233. A Letter From Italy 4/8/2010
234. A Last Request 4/8/2010
235. Love's Blindness 1/1/2004

Comments about Alfred Austin

  • Sofia Kioroglou Sofia Kioroglou (4/16/2016 2:22:00 AM)

    I agree with John Mahon. He is an excellent poet and vastly underrated for sure!

    2 person liked.
    2 person did not like.
  • John Mahon (7/9/2013 10:17:00 AM)

    Vastly underrated. One of my favorite poets. Consistently solid poetry with plenty of very deep, moving and powerful pieces. Has a way with words even better than most poets of his era.

    14 person liked.
    4 person did not like.
Best Poem of Alfred Austin

A Letter From Italy

Lately, when we wished good-bye
Underneath a gloomy sky,
``Bear,'' you said, ``my love in mind,
Leaving me not quite behind;
And across the mountains send
News and greeting to your friend.''

Swiftly though we did advance
Through the rich flat fields of France,
Still the eye grew tired to see
Patches of equality.
Nothing wanton, waste, or wild;
Women delving, lonely child
Tending cattle lank and lean;
Not a hedgerow to be seen,
Where the eglantine may ramble,
Or the vagrant unkempt bramble
Might its flowers upon you ...

Read the full of A Letter From Italy

The Mountains

The Mountains
What ails you, Ocean, that nor near nor far,
Find you a bourne to ease your burdened breast,
But throughout time inexorable are
Never at rest?

With foaming mouth and fluttering crest you leap
Impatiently towards never-shifting beach,
Then wheel, and hurry to some distant deep

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