University of Virginia Library

Search this document 
Poems

By W. C. Bennett: New ed
Bennett, W. C. (1820-1895)
  
[dedication]

collapse section 
[section]
  
[Forms beyond my vision fleeting]
expand section 
BABY MAY AND OTHER POEMS.
expand section 
THE WORN WEDDING-RING AND OTHER HOME POEMS.
expand section 
NARRATIVE POEMS AND BALLADS.
expand section 
SONGS AND LYRICAL POEMS.
expand section 
WAR SONGS.
expand section 
POEMS OF THOUGHT.
expand section 
POEMS OF FANCY AND FEELING.
collapse section 
SONNETS.
  
WRITTEN IN WINDSOR CASTLE.
  
[Friends, could I live a life of art alone]
  
[You shall be thought of with the scents of Spring]
  
[You cross my dusty path with dreams divine]
  
[Nor, Alchemists, turning to gold the lead]
  
[With you, too, comes the Shakespeare of all sound]
  
[Of poet-homes was our delightful talk]
  
[Nor were those, breathing not your Boston air]
  
[And as the glory of the still May moon]
  
[So you have been with Severn, and have heard]
  
[What pleasant talk you bear across the sea]
  
[And you have paced the streets that Cæsar trod]
  
On being told that Charles Dickens had said that “the bust of Clytie must have been modelled from a real Greek girl, or it could not have been so beautiful.”
  
“Should not the truest Art interpret rather than daguerreotype?”
  
IN THE DULWICH GALLERY—BEFORE GUIDO'S “ST. SEBASTIAN.”
  
IN LONDON—AT THE NATIONAL GALLERY—BEFORE MURILLO'S “HOLY FAMILY.”
  
ON A VIOLET-STAND.
  
AT ROME—FROM THE HILL OF THE CAPITOL.
  
ON A PHOTOGRAPH OF THE COLISEUM.
  
WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR.
  
ROBERT BROWNING.
  
BEFORE WILKIE'S “COLUMBUS.”
  
AT SOUTH KENSINGTON—IN THE TURNER GALLERY.
  
AT DULWICH.
  
IN THE SISTINE CHAPEL—BEFORE MICHAEL ANGELO'S “LAST JUDGMENT.”
  
AT DULWICH.
  
AT ANTWERP—BEFORE RUBENS' “DESCENT FROM THE CROSS.”
  
[Venice! Dear friends, how comes she to your eyes?]
  
[On the Rialto, too, your steps have been]
  
[Ah, those Italian lakes! My town-dull'd eyes]
  
[When the laburnum droops its golden rain]
  
BEFORE THE DULWICH GALLERY.
  
IN THE CAPITOL—BEFORE THE FAUN OF “PRAXITELES,”
  
IN THE VATICAN—BEFORE THE APOLLO BELVEDERE.
  
AT THE SOUTH KENSINGTON MUSEUM—BEFORE “THE TURNERS.”
  
AT FLORENCE—BEFORE THE “VENUS DE MEDICI.”
  
IN THE VATICAN—BEFORE THE FRESCOES OF THE “STANZE DI RAFFAELLO.”
  
IN ITALY—1860.
  
[So this is yours, our Wordsworth's pictured face]
  
[What! Gad's Hill's haunted greenness you have seen.]
  
IN THE DULWICH GALLERY—BEFORE MURILLO'S “FLOWER-GIRL.”
  
THACKERAY.
  
ITALY.
  
MRS. BROWNING.
  
AT MILAN—IN THE CONVENT OF THE MADONNA DELLE GRAZIE.
  
EDGAR ALLAN POE.
  
AT ALFRED TENNYSON'S.
  
AT ROME—IN THE FORUM.
  
IN THE TOWER OF LONDON.
collapse section 
WRITTEN IN NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE'S “TRANSFORMATION.”
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
expand section 
JOHN RUSKIN.
  
IN PARIS—AT THE LOUVRE—BEFORE MURILLO'S “IMMACULATE CONCEPTION.”
  
IN LONDON—BEFORE HOLMAN HUNT'S “FINDING OF CHRIST IN THE TEMPLE.”
  
[And of our great ones, him you should have known]
  
AT ROME—BEFORE ST. PETER'S.
  
AT ROME—IN ST. PETER'S.
  
IN LONDON—BEFORE ST. PAUL'S.
  
IN LONDON—IN TRAFALGAR-SQUARE—BEFORE THE STATUE OF GENERAL SIR CHARLES JAMES NAPIER.
  
GARIBALDI.
  
AT FLORENCE—IN FRA ANGELICO'S CELL IN THE CONVENT OF ST. MARK.
  
AT ROME—IN THE FORUM.
  
ON A PHOTOGRAPH OF TASSO.
  
FLORENCE.
  
ON A PHOTOGRAPH OF DANTE.
  
AT FLORENCE—IN SANTA CROCE—BY THE TOMB OF MACHIAVELLI.
  
AT PISA—IN THE CAMPO SANTO—BEFORE THE FRESCOES AND TOMB OF BENOZZO GOZZOLI.
  
MILAN, 1860.
  
IN LONDON—BEFORE MR. CROPSEY'S “AUTUMN ON THE HUDSON.”
  
TO MARY HOWITT.
  
TO MARY RUSSELL MITFORD.
  
TO KEATS.
  
TO LEIGH HUNT.
  
A RECOLLECTION OF THE PERFORMANCE OF “ION.”
  
WRITTEN IN MACAULAY'S “LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME.”
  
MOTHERWELL'S GRAVE.
  
AT ROME—ON THE PINCIAN HILL.
  
[Would God had homed me near your fireside, friends]
  
[Yours be a life of pleasure, lapp'd in ease]
  
BEFORE MR. JOHN RUSKIN'S “TURNERS,” AT DENMARK HILL.
  
WRITTEN IN DR. HOLMES'S “ELSIE VENNER.”
expand section 
WRITTEN IN “EMERSON'S ESSAYS.”

collapse section Collapse All | Expand All expand section
previous section Poems
next section

III.

[When I remember how my hours go by]

When I remember how my hours go by,
My days to months, my months to dead years grow,
Then the swift shortness of my life I know,
How little I may do or ere I die;
Then do I feel how time I waste, and cry
“Art woos me lovingly her charms to show,
I, still thrust from her; will it still be so?
Will life be fruitless everlastingly?
O will no season of sweet leisure be,
Release from all this care for things, how poor,
For my chain'd thoughts, so yearning to be free,
Doom'd still such daily task-work to endure.
Art gives you gold; O were it so with me!
That she would give my needs, O were I sure!”
previous section Poems
next section