Lord Dunsany
Lord Dunsany Poems
I watch the doctors walking with the nurses to and fro
And i hear them softly talking in the garden where they go,
But i envy not their learning, nor their right of walking free,
For the emperor of Tartary has died for love of me.
...
The ebb came
And I saw the dead eyes of the houses
And the jealousy of other forgotten things
That storm had not carried thence.
...
Night falls on the lone
Sahara, and spark by spark
Arabs I have not known
Light fires in the dark.
...
I.
There is no wrath in the stars,
They do not rage in the sky;
I look from the evil wood
And find myself wondering why.
...
Not in the stone you smashed dwelt memory,
And not in stone are the Canadian dead
Immortal, but in hearts where they were bred
And in the country that they fought to free.
...
I cannot see the end: I cannot see
When we will win or how. That being so
Let us go on, without attempt to know
In what month or what year that end will be.
...
When smoke into aether went,
And dust along the highway whirled
With breezes from the downs of Kent,
And mists about the houses curled,
...
Lord Dunsany Biography
Edward John Moreton Drax Plunkett, 18th Baron of Dunsany (24 July 1878 – 25 October 1957) was an Irish writer and dramatist, notable for his work, mostly in fantasy, published under the name Lord Dunsany. More than eighty books of his work were published, and his oeuvre includes many hundreds of published short stories, as well as successful plays, novels and essays. Born to the second-oldest title (created 1439) in the Irish peerage, Dunsany lived much of his life at perhaps Ireland's longest-inhabited home, Dunsany Castle near Tara, worked with W.B. Yeats and Lady Gregory, received an honorary doctorate from Trinity College, was chess and pistol-shooting champion of Ireland, and travelled and hunted extensively. He died in Dublin after an attack of appendicitis.)
The Best Poem Of Lord Dunsany
The Memory
I watch the doctors walking with the nurses to and fro
And i hear them softly talking in the garden where they go,
But i envy not their learning, nor their right of walking free,
For the emperor of Tartary has died for love of me.
i can see his face all golden beneath his night-black hair,
And the temples strange and olden in the gleaming eastern air,
Where he walked alone and sighing because i would not sail
To the lands where he was dying for a love of no avail.
He had seen my face by magic in a mirror that they make
For those rulers proud and tragic by their lotus-covered lake,
Where there hangs a pale-blue tiling on an alabaster wall.
And he loved my way of smiling, and loved nothing else at all.
There were peacocks there and peaches, and green monuments of jade,
Where macaws with sudden screeches made the little dogs afraid,
And the silver fountains sprinkled foreign flowers on the sward
As they rose and curved and tinkled for their listless yellow lord.
Ah well, he's dead and rotten in his far magnolia grove,
But his love is unforgotten and i need no other love,
And with open eyes when sleeping, or closed eyes when awake,
i can see the fountains leaping by the borders of the lake.
They call it my delusion; they may call it what they will,
For the times are in confusion and are growing wilder still,
And there are no splendid memories in any face i see.
But an emperor of Tartary has died for love of me.
Lord Dunsany Comments
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