Robert Seymour Bridges Poems

When Death to either shall come,—
I pray it be first to me,—
Be happy as ever at home,
If so, as I wish, it be.
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How fares it, friend, since I by Fate annoy'd
Left the old home in need of livelier play
For body and mind? How fare, this many a day,
The stubborn thews and ageless heart of Floyd?
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Love not too much. But how,
When thou hast made me such,
And dost thy gifts bestow,
How can I love too much?
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A frosty Christmas Eve
when the stars were shining
Fared I forth alone
where westward falls the hill,
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I HAVE lov'd flowers that fade,
Within whose magic tents
Rich hues have marriage made
With sweet unmemoried scents:
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The evening darkens over
After a day so bright,
The windcapt waves discover
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There is a hill beside the silver Thames,
Shady with birch and beech and odorous pine
And brilliant underfoot with thousand gems
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Would that you were alive today, Catullus!
Truth ’tis, there is a filthy skunk amongst us,
A rank musk-idiot, the filthiest skunk,
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Belov'd of all to whom that Muse is dear
Who hid her spirit of rapture from the Greek,
Whereby our art excelleth the antique,
Perfecting formal beauty to the ear;
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Since now from woodland mist and flooded clay
I am fled beside the steep Devonian shore,
Nor stand for welcome at your gothic door,
'Neath the fair tower of Magdalen and May,
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