Poems By Edward Dowden |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. | VII. NEWS FOR LONDON |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
IX. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
IX. |
X. |
XI. |
XII. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
IX. |
X. |
XI. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
Poems | ||
VII. NEWS FOR LONDON
Whence may I glean a just return, my friend,For tidings of your great world hither borne?
What garbs of new opinion men have worn
I wot not, nor what fame world-without-end
62
For Irving or the Italian; but forlorn
In this odd angle of the isle from morn
Till eve, nor sow, nor reap, nor get, nor spend.
Yet have I heard the sea-gulls scream for glee
Treading the drenched rock-ridges, and the gale
Hiss over tremulous heath-bells, while the bee
Driven sidelong quested low; and I have seen
The live sea-hollows, and moving mounds greygreen,
And watched the flying foam-bow flush and fail.
Poems | ||