 | The Poetical Works of Andrew Lang |  |
160
Rococo
When first we heard Rossetti sing,We twanged the melancholy lyre;
We sang like this—like anything—
When first we heard Rossetti sing.
And all our song was faded spring,
And dead delight and dark desire,
When first we heard Rossetti sing,
We twanged the melancholy lyre.
(And this is how we twanged it)—
The New Orpheus to his Eurydice
Why wilt thou woo, ah strange Eurydice,
A languid laurell'd Orpheus in the shades,
For here is company of shadowy maids,
Hero, and Helen and Psamathoë:
And life is like the blossom on the tree,
And never tumult of the world invades;
The low light wanes and waxes—flowers and fades—
And sleep is sweet, and dreams suffice for me.
A languid laurell'd Orpheus in the shades,
For here is company of shadowy maids,
Hero, and Helen and Psamathoë:
And life is like the blossom on the tree,
And never tumult of the world invades;
The low light wanes and waxes—flowers and fades—
And sleep is sweet, and dreams suffice for me.
161
Go back, and seek the sunlight,' as of old
The wise ghost-mother of Odysseus said;
Here am I half content, and scarce a-cold,
But one light fits the living, one the dead;
Good-bye, be glad, forget! thou canst not hold
In thy kind arms, alas! this powerless head.
The wise ghost-mother of Odysseus said;
Here am I half content, and scarce a-cold,
But one light fits the living, one the dead;
Good-bye, be glad, forget! thou canst not hold
In thy kind arms, alas! this powerless head.
When first we heard Rossetti sing,
We also wrote this kind of thing!
We also wrote this kind of thing!
| The Poetical Works of Andrew Lang | |