 | The Poetical Works of Andrew Lang |  |
153
L'Envoi
To E. W. G.
Each in the self-same field we gleanThe field of the Samosatene;
Each something takes and something leaves,
And this must choose, and that forgo
In Lucian's visionary sheaves,
To twine a modern posy so;
But all my gleanings, truth to tell,
Are mixed with mournful asphodel,
While yours are wreathed with poppies red,
With flowers that Helen's feet have kissed,
With leaves of vine that garlanded
The Syrian Pantagruelist,
The sage who laughed the world away,
Who mocked at gods, and men, and care,
More sweet of voice than Rabelais,
And lighter-hearted than Voltaire.
| The Poetical Works of Andrew Lang | |