 | Words by the Wayside |  |
64
Poeta Suburbanus
This is where my songs are hatched,
Here I house me snugly
In a villa half-detached,
Architecture ugly.
Here I house me snugly
In a villa half-detached,
Architecture ugly.
If some know me not who knew,
Why be melancholy?
How should Aethiop change his hue,
Or a fool his folly?
Why be melancholy?
How should Aethiop change his hue,
Or a fool his folly?
On our right a City-clerk,
Most urbane of neighbours,
Earlier than the rising lark
In his garden labours:
Most urbane of neighbours,
Earlier than the rising lark
In his garden labours:
Leftward, where above the wall
Peeps a Bearer's turban,
Children romp and parrots squall,
Such is life suburban.
Peeps a Bearer's turban,
Children romp and parrots squall,
Such is life suburban.
Yet at dawn we hear the thrush
His old stave repeating,
And far bells at twilight-hush
Waft a vesper-greeting.
His old stave repeating,
And far bells at twilight-hush
Waft a vesper-greeting.
Yon white lilies not in pride
Lift their dainty noses,
And all June our southern side
Burns with roses, roses:
Lift their dainty noses,
And all June our southern side
Burns with roses, roses:
65
Nature for our own poor sake,
Not for wealth or station,
Loves us, and is fain to make
Tender compensation.
Not for wealth or station,
Loves us, and is fain to make
Tender compensation.
True it is, believed or not—
Poverty will prove it—
Though you cannot raise your lot,
You may rise above it.
Poverty will prove it—
Though you cannot raise your lot,
You may rise above it.
Crœsus at our home hath curled
Lip of scorn, nor guesses
Richer wealth than half the world
Stored in its recesses.
Lip of scorn, nor guesses
Richer wealth than half the world
Stored in its recesses.
Lofty hope and hoarded thought,
Treasures beyond telling
That could ne'er with gold be bought,
Crown our simple dwelling.
Treasures beyond telling
That could ne'er with gold be bought,
Crown our simple dwelling.
| Words by the Wayside | |