William Watson

(1858-1935 / England)

William Watson Poems

81. Dedication Of 'The Dream Of Man' To London, My Hostess 4/10/2010
82. The Mock Self 4/10/2010
83. Night 4/10/2010
84. Dawn Of The Headland 4/10/2010
85. The Lute-Player 4/10/2010
86. World Strangeness 4/10/2010
87. Angelo 4/10/2010
88. The Dream Of Man 4/10/2010
89. Felicity 4/10/2010
90. Epigrams 4/10/2010
91. A Child's Hair 4/10/2010
92. England My Mother 4/10/2010
93. Estrangement 4/10/2010
94. The Great Misgiving 1/4/2003
95. At The Grave Of Charles Lamb, In Edmonton 4/10/2010
96. Beauty's Metempsychosis 4/10/2010
97. A Sunset 4/10/2010
98. History 4/10/2010
99. A Golden Hour 4/10/2010
100. Changed Voices 4/10/2010
101. Autumn 4/10/2010
102. England And Her Colonies 1/1/2004
103. Song 1/4/2003
104. April 4/10/2010

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Best Poem of William Watson


April, April,
Laugh thy girlish laughter;
Then, the moment after,
Weep thy girlish tears!
April, that mine ears
Like a lover greetest,
If I tell thee, sweetest,
All my hopes and fears,
April, April,
Laugh thy golden laughter,
But, the moment after,
Weep thy golden tears!

Read the full of April

The Foresters

Clear as of old the great voice rings to-day,
While Sherwood's oak-leaves twine with Aldworth's bay:
The voice of him the master and the sire
Of one whole age and legion of the lyre,
Who sang his morning-song when Coleridge still
Uttered dark oracles from Highgate Hill,
And with new-launchèd argosies of rhyme
Gilds and makes brave this sombreing tide of time.
Far be the hour when lesser brows shall wear

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