Alfred Austin: Всі вірші поета

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"`If you were mine, if you were mine"

`If you were mine, if you were mine,

The day would dawn, the stars would shine,

The sun would set, the moon arise,

In holier and yet heavenlier skies.

Then unto me the Year would bring

A younger April, fresher Spring.

I should not then seek sylvan ways

For primrose clusters, woodbine sprays,

Alfred Austin

"My soul is sunk in all--suffusing shame"

My soul is sunk in all—suffusing shame;

Yet not for any individual sin,

But that the world's original fair fame—

My own land's most—is not what it hath been.

Shrieks of intolerable bondage smite,

Without response, its comfortable ears,

Making a craven compromise with Might,

For their own luxury, of others' tears.

Alfred Austin

In Praise Of England

From tangled brake and trellised bower

Bring every bud that blows,

But never will you find the flower

To match an English rose.

It blooms with more than city grace,

Though rustic and apart;

It has a smile upon its face,

And a dewdrop in its heart.

Alfred Austin

"Beyond the pasture's withered bents "

Beyond the pasture's withered bents,

Upstanding hop, recumbent fleece,

And sheaves of wheat, like weathered tents,

A twilight bivouac of peace.

Alfred Austin

Another Spring Carol

Now Winter hath drifted

To bygone years,

And the sod is uplifted

By crocus spears;

And out of the hive the bee wings humming,

And we know that the Spring, the Spring, is coming.

For the snow hath melted

From sunless cleft,

Alfred Austin

Felix Opportunitate Mortis

Exile or Caesar? Death hath solved thy doubt,

And made thee certain of thy changeless fate;

And thou no more hast wearily to wait,

Straining to catch the people's tarrying shout

That from unrestful rest would drag thee out,

And push thee to those pinnacles of State

Round which throng courtly loves, uncourted hate,

Servility's applause, and envy's flout.

Alfred Austin

A Florilegium

All the seasons of the year,

I have flowers for you, dear.

When the ploughland's flecked with snow,

And the blue—eyed scyllas blow,

Gazing, through the wintry gale,

Like your eyes when you are pale;

When in many a cloistered walk

Alfred Austin

"`Roses crimson, roses white"

`Roses crimson, roses white,

Deadly pale or lovely blushing,

Both in love with May at sight,

And their maiden blood is rushing

To and fro in hope to hide

Tumult it but thus discloses.

Bring the Bridegroom to the Bride!

Everywhere are roses, roses.'

Alfred Austin

A Birthday

The love within my heart that dwells

Knows nought of days or hours;

I hear thee in the Christmas bells,

I feel thee in the vernal showers;

And thy breath is blent with the wandering scent

Of the summer fruits and flowers.

And yet this morn my blood is stirred

With more than wonted glow;

Alfred Austin

"Give me October's meditative haze"

Give me October's meditative haze,

Its gossamer mornings, dewy—wimpled eves,

Dewy and fragrant, fragrant and secure,

The long slow sound of farmward—wending wains,

When homely Love sups quiet 'mid his sheaves,

Sups 'mid his sheaves, his sickle at his side,

And all is peace, peace and plump fruitfulness.

Alfred Austin

"For where, beneath one's parent sky"

For where, beneath one's parent sky,

Our dear ones live, our dead ones lie.

Alfred Austin

How Florence Rings Her Bells

With shimmer of steel and blare of brass,

And Switzers marching with martial stride,

And cavaliers trampling brown the grass,

Came bow—legged Charles through the Apennine pass,

With black Il Moro for traitor guide;

And, passing by Pisa's ransomed towers,

He swept up stream over Arno's plain,

Where Florence garlands herself with flowers

Alfred Austin