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The Poetry of Real Life

A New Edition, Much Enlarged and Improved. By Henry Ellison
Ellison, Henry
 
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SONNETS.
 
ON A BEAUTIFUL SUNSET.
 
TO MY OLD FRIEND, G. S.
 
WISDOM, HOW IT WORKS.
 
ON A NIGHTINGALE IN A CAGE, AND BLINDED.
 
LONDON.
 
ERROR.
 
ON GIFFORD'S PRAISE OF BEN JOHNSON'S PLAYS,
 
ON THE CHURCH CALLED “ST. JOHN'S IN THE WILDERNESS,” NEAR EXMOUTH.
 
CHEAP ENJOYMENTS.
 
A SEA VIEW.
 
GREAT POETS.
 
TO WORDSWORTH.
 
ON A BUST OF DEAN SWIFT, AFTER HIS MIND FAILED HIM.
 
MY POETRY.
 
THE TEMPLE OF TRUTH.
 
TO SHAKSPEARE.
 
ON AN OLD DEFACED SIGN-POST.
 
NATIONAL POWER; TO ENGLAND.
 
THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE.
 
MY MUSE.
 
ON THE BELIEF IN HUMAN GOOD.
 
POETRY OF REAL LIFE.
 
COMMON SENSE.
 
TO CERTAIN PERSONS.
 
TO THE THAMES, ABOVE RICHMOND BRIDGE.
 
INDIVIDUAL GRIEFS.
 
RELIGION.
 
TO CERTAIN CONVENTIONAL CRITICS.
 
ON A STANDARD ROSE, JUST PRUNED.
 
SUNSET IN THE FIRTH OF CLYDE.
 
TO ------
 
A SUNSET-THOUGHT.
 
WRITTEN UPON READING THE PRECEDING SONNET, LONG AFTER IT WAS COMPOSED IN ITALY.
 
WHEREIN ALL MEN MAY BE GREAT.
 
THE STARS.
 
ON BEING MUCH ALONE.
 
LIFE.
 
SELF-GREATNESS.
 
STRONG FEELING.
 
A SUN-SET SCENE.
 
MONEY-THIRST.
 
THOUGHT.
 
THE POET'S HARP.
 
A SUNSET THOUGHT.
 
WHAT MAKES US RICH?
 
TO ------
 
SOLITUDE.
 
THE TWO-FOLD LIFE.
 
A NIGHT-THOUGHT.
 
THE SEEMING BEGGAR.
 
THE WISE MAN CANNOT BE IMPOVERISHED.
 
THE PEN.
 
TIME.
 
FOLLY AND WISDOM.
 
DEATH.
 
CHILDREN, HOW TO BE TREATED.
 
WE HAVE ALL WE CAN HAVE, IF WE PLEASE.
 
ON DOING GOOD.
 
TRUE STRENGTH.
 
ON THE COLUMNAR APPEARANCE OF THE SUN SETTING OVER THE SEA.
 
THOUGHTS IN THE SUNSHINE.
 
THE SCHOOLING OF THE HEART.
 
ON THE EFFECTS OF MACHINERY.
 
MY PLEASURE-GROUND.
 
ON A CHURCH, COVERED WITH IVY AND VIRGINIA CLIMBERS, AND OTHER PLANTS.
 
ON LEAVING A PLACE WHERE I HAD PASSED SOME YEARS.
 
GOD, THE GREATEST POET.
 
ON THE OCCUPATION OF SINDE.
 
ON DANBY'S PICTURE OF “CALYPSO'S GROTTO.”
 
REAL VALUE;
 
TO MILTON.
 
POETRY OF REAL LIFE.
 
CHILDREN.
 
WORLD-MUSIC: ESOTERIC.
 
SEARCH OF TRUTH.
 
HAMPTON-COURT-PALACE, AT SUNSET; AUGUST.
 
ON A NEW-DISCOVERED AND UNINHABITED LAND.
 
WHOM TO PLEASE.
 
ON THE DEATH OF AN OLD DOG.
 
TO THE MUSE OF POETRY.
 
BY THE SEA-SIDE, ON A STORMY DAY.
 
ON DANTE.
 
MIDNIGHT. OCTOBER 24TH.
 
LOVE.
 
PREMIER-REVOLUTIONISTS: ON THE CORN-LAWS.
 
HOW TRUTH WORKS.
 
THE VERY RICH.
 
TO SIR JOHN HANMER.
 
MAMMON.
 
ANSWER TO A QUESTION.
 
SPRING.
 
TO A FRIEND; ON AN OLD TREE, WITH PRIMROSES GROWING OUT OF IT.
 
ON M. ANGELO.
 
ON A LOVELY SUNSET.
 
ON THE THAMES, NEAR HAMPTON COURT.
 
TIME-SERVERS.
 
POPULARIS AURA.
 
ON RE-VISITING THE OLD CRAG AT THE “VALLEY OF ROCKS,” LINTON.
 
THE HARMONIES OF LIFE.
 
THE FUTURE.
 
THE LABOURER'S HOLIDAY.
 
WRITTEN AT LINMOUTH; NORTH DEVON.
 
REAL LIFE.
 
ON A CRAG, WITH A VAST NICHE-LIKE CAVITY IN ITS FACE.
 
ON A BEAUTIFUL SUNSET.
 
FREE-MASONS.
 
ON A FAVOURITE DOG.
 
AGAINST PRIDE OF INTELLECT.
 
ON THE FALLS OF NIAGARA.
 
AN ANSWER.
 
TO MILTON.
 
TO ARTISTS WHO LOOK WITH JEALOUS EYES ON ARTISTICAL PROCESSES, SUCH AS CHROMALITHOGRAPHY, ETC. ETC.
 
ON A BEAUTIFUL SUNSET, WITH NEWLY-GATHERED CLOUDS.
 
TO THE SEA, AFTER A GREAT STORM.
 
HOPES FROM THE SPREAD OF PHRENOLOGY.
 
POETRY OF LIFE.
 
COMPOSED IN THE WHISPERING-GALLERY AT ST. PAUL'S.
 
ON DOING NO INJURY.
 
ON SELF-DENIAL.
 
SIMPLICITY.
 
ON STARTING FROM LONDON AT SIX IN THE MORNING.
 
UPON TITIAN.
 
TO ENGLAND, ON HER TREATMENT OF GENOA.
 
ST. ANTONY'S DAY.
 
ON MILTON.
 
A CALM, SEASIDE SUNSET.
 
TRUE GREATNESS.
 
TO THE SEA.
 
THE LARK.
 
THE WISH.
 
PRIDE.
 
ON A RICH AUTUMN-SUNSET.
 
ON THE CLIFFS NEAR LINMOUTH, NORTH DEVON.
 
WRITTEN ON THE SEA-SHORE.
 
ON THE DEPARTING YEAR: CHRISTMAS.
 
ON A SOVEREIGN.
 
ON A SUNSET LANDSCAPE, SEEN OVER WATER.
 
AGAINST OVERSEVERE RELIGION, ALIAS NONE.
 
ON SEEING A POOR PERSON, TO WHOM I HAD GIVEN CLOTHING.
 
CONTENTMENT.
 
UPON RAILWAY TRAVELLING.
 
ON A LOVELY GIRL OF HUMBLE BIRTH.
 
WRITTEN AT SUNSET, AFTER RAIN.
 
WRITTEN AFTER BUYING SOME FLOWERS IN LONDON.
 
THE LILY OF PALESTINE.
 
HUMAN FEELING.
 
ON HEARING SOME ONE SPEAK WITH INDIFFERENCE OF A POOR CHILD.
 
ON A VERY OLD, BUT STILL FLOURISHING, OAK.
 
ON A FROSTY SUNSET.
 
ON SEEING A FRIEND AFTER FIVE YEARS' ABSENCE.
 
ON AN ANCIENT CASTLE IN RUINS, SAVE ONE PORTION, WHICH FORMS A KIND OF DWELLING.
 
ON THE HAPPY PROSPECT OF PEACE WITH AMERICA.
 
ON SOME FLOWERS IN A POOR PERSON'S WINDOW IN LONDON.
 
ON A SHIPWRECK, OFF BEACHY-HEAD, BY COPLEY FIELDING.
 
TO KEATS.
 
UPON SEEING A STAR IMMEDIATELY OVER THE HEAD OF THE STATUE ON THE DUKE OF YORK'S COLUMN, LONDON.
 
ON THE SEMPLON.
 
ON THE THAMES, NEAR HAMPTON-COURT.
 
THE TRUE DIGNITY OF MAN.
 
ON MACHINERY.
 
ON RETURNING TO LONDON.
 
ON TWO THORNS IN LEAF, ONE ON EACH SIDE THE PATH.
 
TO CRITICS.
 
ON A ROBIN.
 
ON THE ROUGHNESS OF MY VERSE.
 
ON SEEING THE MOON RESTING ON A HIGH HILL.
 
AGAINST THOSE CRITICS WHO CAVIL AT THE UNCHRONOLOGICAL JUXTAPOSITIONS OF THE OLD PAINTERS, AND CONDEMN A PLAY OF SHAKSPEARE, BECAUSE HE REPRESENTS ANTIGONUS LANDING WITH PERDITA ON THE SEA-COAST OF BOHEMIA.
 
TO SIR JOHN HANMER, ON FIRST READING HIS SONNETS,
 
TO ENGLAND.
 
HOW TO SEEK TRUTH.
 
THE PURPOSE OF A LIFE.
 
SUNSET-THOUGHT.
 
AMBITION.
 
A CITY, AT SUNSET.
 
ON IMAGINATION.
 
VIEW OF HALDON-HILL, FROM EXMOUTH.
 
THE TRUE BENEFACTORS OF MANKIND.
 
ON READING SIR J. HANMER'S SONNETS.
 
ON REVISITING THE SEA.
 
ON AN INTELLIGENT ARTIZAN, IN THE NATIONAL GALLERY;
 
POETRY.
 
ON LIGHTING MY FIRST FIRE AT HOME, AFTER A CHEERLESS JOURNEY.
 
A HARVEST-SKETCH.
 
ON SEEING A VIOLET IN FLOWER,
 
ON BEING TOLD THAT I OVERADVOCATED THE RIGHTS OF THE PEOPLE.
 
ON PRESENTING A COPY OF MY POEMS TO A PAINTER-FRIEND.
 
ON READING SIR JOHN HANMER'S SONNETS.
 
HOPES OF THE FUTURE.
 
ON A LITTLE CHILD.
 
TO MY MUSE.
 
TO AN ACORN.
 
ON A WATERMILL, SEEN ON A SUNDAY IN SPRING.
 
ON HEARING “RULE BRITANNIA” PERFORMED IN ST. PAUL'S, IN CONNECTION WITH THE ABOLITION OF THE SLAVE TRADE.
 
ON THE SEA, AFTER A STORM.
 
ON LOVE.
 
ON SHAKSPEAR'S REPRESENTING ANTIGONUS LANDING WITH PERDITA ON THE SEACOAST OF BOHEMIA.
 
ON BURNS' HUMANITY.
 
TO THE BIRDS.
 
AUTHORITY AND INFLUENCE.
 
ON THE QUEEN'S VISIT TO EDINBURGH, ANNOUNCED BY BEACON-FIRES ON THE HIGHER HILLS.
 
[“Thou art no better than thy fellow men]
 
ON SENDING SOME SONNETS TO THE EDITOR OF THE EXAMINER.
 
PARALLEL BETWEEN THE ARCHITECTS OF CATHEDRALS, AND OF THE MORAL FABRICS OF SOCIETY.
 
ON SEEING, OR, RATHER, NOT SEEING, WESTMINSTER ABBEY.
 
ON MOZART, WHO LIVED IN NEGLECT, AND DIED IN POVERTY.
 
ON A LATE FLOWERING FORGETMENOT.
 
SCANDAL-MONGERS.
 
ON SOME OLD ARMOUR.
 
ON THE CLOSE OF A MOST BEAUTIFULLY CALM AND SUNNY DAY.
 
ON THE ROSEMARY.
 
ON THE CHRISTMAS CUSTOM OF LIGHTING THE NEW LOG AT THE REMNANT OF THE OLD.
 
ON THE DRUIDS CUTTING MISTLETOE WITH A GOLDEN SICKLE, FOR THEIR RITES.
 
TO THE SCORNERS.
 
TO MAN.
 
ON A DEWDROP IN THE SUN.
 
TO IMOGEN.
 
ON A QUIET SUMMER-EVENING, BY THE SEA.
 
ASPIRATIONS.
 
ON GOING A SHORT DISTANCE OUT OF LONDON, IN THE SPRING.
 
TO THOSE WHO MEASURE MEN BY THEIR WEALTH AND APPEARANCE.
 
SELF-ENCOURAGEMENT.
 
RETROSPECTIVE.
 
ON PEACE BEWEEN ENGLAND AND AMERICA.
 
STATECRAFT SIMPLIFIED.
 
THE PRIDE OF THE FOREST.
 
ON SEEING A FINE MERCHANT-VESSEL COMING OUT OF PORT.
 
REFLECTIONS ON PUBLISHING MY POEMS.
 
TO THE CHARTISTS, UPON THEIR SUPPRESSING PUBLIC MEETINGS.
 
ON SOME FLOWERS ABOUT A NEAT COTTAGE DOOR.
 
ON SEEING A BEAUTIFUL REVENUE-CUTTER PUT OUT TO ASSIST A VESSEL IN DISTRESS.
 
TO SHAKSPEAR.
 
ON MISTAKEN GRANDEUR.
 
ON A LOVELY REFLECTION IN WATER.
 
MEANS OF CIVILIZATION.
 
ON THE SEASHORE, ON A STORMY DAY.
 
TO TIME.
 
TO NAPOLEON.
 
ON PLUCKING A FLOWER.
 
WRITTEN WITH A STRAY FEATHER FROM CUPID'S WING.
 
SUNSET.
 
TO NELSON.
 
REMINISCENCES OF BOYHOOD.
 
TO AN ARBUTUS.
 
ON THE BIRTH OF MY MUSE'S FIRST CHILD.
 
ON THE FIRST INTRODUCTION OF THE PRIMROSE INTO NEW HOLLAND BY A LADY.
 
CONTENTMENT, IN WHAT IT LIES.
 
TO CERTAIN FINGER-RHYMERS.
 
ON A CHILD, SITTING IN THE SUMMER-GRASS.
 
ON THE ARRIVAL OF THE VESSEL ANNOUNCING THE SETTLEMENT OF DIFFERENCES WITH AMERICA.
 
TO SIR JOHN HANMER, ON READING HIS SONNETS.
 
THE IMPRESSION PRODUCED BY LONDON NEAR AND AT A DISTANCE.
 
ON A PECULIAR EFFECT OF THE SMOKE OVER LONDON, SEEN BY A FROSTY SUNSET.
 
TO HERODOTUS.
 
RESPONSIBILITY OF AUTHORS.
 
EXCULPATION OF CHAUCER'S UNIONS OR APPOSITIONS OF MYTHOLOGICAL AND CHRISTIAN IDEAS, SUCH AS THE ANACHRONISM INVOLVED IN MARS BEING CALLED A KNIGHT, AND VENUS A SAINT.
 
A SUMMER REVÉRIE.
 
A SUMMER-DAY'S RAMBLE.
 
PERSONAL FEELING.
 
TO THE PSEUDO-GREAT.
 
ON THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN REASON IMAGINATIVE AND UNIMAGINATIVE.
 
ON THE ADAPTATIONS OF PROVIDENCE.
 
MY MUSE IN HER TEENS.
 
ON SEEING A WHALE ON SHORE.
 
HOW GOD THINKS.
 
CHILDREN'S QUESTIONS.
 
AMBITION.
 
ON SOME FLIES IN THE SUNBEAMS.
 
MY OWN EPITAPH.
 
TO THE CHARTISTS, UNDER FROST.
 
ON A GRECIAN BAS-RELIEF, REPRESENTING A SACRIFICE.
 
NATURE'S MUSIC.
 
THE POETS' JUDGMENT.
 
THE DANGER OF ATTEMPTING SUDDENLY TO ROOT OUT NATIONAL PREJUDICES.
 
BY THE SEA-SHORE.
 
MY MUSE.
 
TO MY COUNTRYMEN.
 
THE HEART'S PLACES OF WORSHIP.
 
ON AN OLD AND DIRTY COPY OF SHAKSPEAR.
 
ON THE NEGLECT OF NATIONAL EDUCATION.
 
TO ------ AFTER ABSENCE.
 
ON THE AUTOMATIC TENDENCIES OF MACHINERY.
 
NEGLECT OF POETRY.
 
ON HEARING SOME SINGING BY NIGHT.
 
UTILITY.
 
TO ------
 
A SUNSET THOUGHT, AT HAMPTON COURT.
 
THE GOOD AND EVIL OF LIFE.
 
ON A CANKERED BRANCH.
 
ON BURNS, THE POET AND EXCISEMAN.
 
HUMAN DEPRAVITY.
 
SECOND-THOUGHTS ON THE ABOVE.
 
THE CORRESPONDENCIES OF NATURE WITH MAN.
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MISCELLANEOUS PIECES.
 
SEEMING-POOR.
 
OVER SHARP-SIGHTEDNESS.
 
SECOND-THOUGHTS ON THE ABOVE.
 
ON HEARING AN OLD SONG PLAYED BY A YOUNG LADY.
 
ON FANCY-DREAMERS, WHO THINK REAL LIFE TOO COMMONPLACE FOR THEM.
 
THE UPRIGHT MAN.
 
ALL THINGS A HYMN TO GOD.
 
ON ONE “LOVED NOT WISELY, BUT TOO WELL.”
 
TO ONE NOT FORGOTTEN.
 
AGAINST NARROW-MINDED SCEPTICISM.
 
EVENING THOUGHTS, WRITTEN NEAR GENEVA, BY THE RHONE.
 
ON AN UNDECYPHERED ETRUSCAN URN, WITH AN INSCRIPTION.
 
ON SEEING A GRAVE-STONE.
 
TRUE VICTORIES.
 
ODE TO PSYCHE.
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POEMS.
 
THOUGHTS SUGGESTED BY DREAMS,
 
THE STORY OF ÆSON TRANSFORMED BY MEDEA;
 
GRAVE-CHUSING.
 
FIRST LOVE.
 
THE GRAVE-HAUNTER.
 
A POETICAL PERORATION.

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ON THE ROUGHNESS OF MY VERSE.

My Muse is harsh, they say—ay, so 't may be
Perhaps: how could it well be otherwise,
When every morn she hears a People's cries
For bread? and Nature itself scarce seems free
From the wide taint of human misery!
She cannot pick her phrases, and be nice,
When toiling Virtue stands rebuked by Vice,
And Nations starve to keep up pedigree!
She's not the silken Muse of drawing-rooms—
'Mid life's stern, bitter truths, she walks the streets,
The idle hammer, and the empty looms,
By which sits lank Despair, and Hunger cheats,
Gnawing his rivelled knuckles: 'mid the seats
Of Commerce, which bad laws now make its tombs!
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