Alfred Austin

(30 May 1835 – 2 June 1913 / Headingley)

Alfred Austin Poems

201. A Meeting 4/8/2010
202. An April Fool 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. Is Life Worth Living? 4/8/2010
227. A Farewell 4/8/2010
228. A Fragment 4/8/2010
229. A Snow-White Lily 4/8/2010
230. Free Will And Fate 4/8/2010
231. A November Note 4/8/2010
232. A Letter From Italy 4/8/2010
233. A Country Nosegay 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 Country Nosegay

Where have you been through the long sweet hours
That follow the fragrant feet of June?
By the dells and the dingles gathering flowers,
Ere the dew of the dawn be sipped by noon.

And sooth each wilding that buds and blows
You seem to have found and clustered here,
Round the rustic sprays of the child-like rose
That smiles in one's face till it stirs a tear.

The clambering vetch, and the meadow-sweet tall,
That nodded good-day as you sauntered past,
And the poppy flaunting atop of the wall,
Which, proud as glory, will fade as fast.

The campion ...

Read the full of A Country Nosegay

At His Grave

LEAVE me a little while alone,
Here at his grave that still is strown
With crumbling flower and wreath;
The laughing rivulet leaps and falls,
The thrush exults, the cuckoo calls,
And he lies hush’d beneath.

With myrtle cross and crown of rose,
And every lowlier flower that blows,

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