 | Poems (1905) |  |
TO THE HON. MRS SPENCER.
(Written July 12, 1817, after a Visit to Petersham.)
That new-made Honour doth forget Men's Names,
Engrossed and happy in itself—is true;
But still my Want of Memory Pardon claims;
For mine is Honour great as well as new—
Honour to know, and to be known by, you.
Wonder not, then, that I should cast away
The common Stores that in the Memory grew;
That, George appearing, I should Richard say
Or tell the Moon's pale Light, “lo! thine the glorious Day!”
Engrossed and happy in itself—is true;
But still my Want of Memory Pardon claims;
For mine is Honour great as well as new—
Honour to know, and to be known by, you.
Wonder not, then, that I should cast away
The common Stores that in the Memory grew;
That, George appearing, I should Richard say
Or tell the Moon's pale Light, “lo! thine the glorious Day!”
But her best Treasures Memory still retains;
The Power of Beauty I remember yet;
Thy Smile for ever in the Soul remains,
And, though the Sun upon that Joy hath set,
Remembrance lives—it is my Pride, we met.
Oh! could I give that Day its proper Fame,
Not distant Ages should those Hours forget,
When I thy Friend—allow the Word—became;
And Honours new or old shall not efface that Name.
The Power of Beauty I remember yet;
Thy Smile for ever in the Soul remains,
And, though the Sun upon that Joy hath set,
Remembrance lives—it is my Pride, we met.
Oh! could I give that Day its proper Fame,
Not distant Ages should those Hours forget,
When I thy Friend—allow the Word—became;
And Honours new or old shall not efface that Name.
| Poems (1905) | |