A Household Book of English Poetry: Selected and Arranged with Notes
General
A Household Book of English Poetry: Selected and Arranged with Notes
American poetry; English poetry
What is the existence of man’s life
But open war, or slumbered strife?
Where sickness to his sense presents
The combat of the elements;
And never feels a perfect peace, 5
Till death’s cold hand signs his release.
It is a storm, where the hot blood
Outvies in rage the boiling flood;
And each loud passion of the mind
Is like a furious gust of wind, 10
Which bears his bark with many a wave,
Till he casts anchor in the grave.
It is a flower, which buds and grows,
And withers as the leaves disclose;
Whose spring and fall faint seasons keep, 15
Like fits of waking before sleep:
Then shrinks into that fatal mould
Where its first being was enrolled.
It is a dream, whose seeming truth
Is moralized in age and youth: 20
Where all the comforts he can share
As wandering as his fancies are;
Till in the mist of dark decay
The dreamer vanish quite away.
It is a dial, which points out 25
The sunset, as it moves about:
And shadows out in lines of night
The subtle stages of time’s flight,
Till all-obscuring earth hath laid
The body in perpetual shade. 30
It is a weary interlude,
Which doth short joys, long woes include;
The world the stage, the prologue tears,
The acts vain hope, and varied fears:
The scene shuts up with loss of breath, 35
And leaves no epilogue but death.
_Henry King._
CIX
_PARAPHRASE FROM SENECA._
Let him that will, ascend the tottering seat
Of courtly grandeur, and become as great
As are his mounting wishes: as for me,
Let sweet repose and rest my portion be;
Give me some mean obscure recess, a sphere 5
Out of the road of business, or the fear
Of falling lower; where I sweetly may
Myself and dear retirement still enjoy:
Let not my life or name be known unto
The grandees of the time, tost to and fro 10
By censures or applause; but let my age
Slide gently by; not overthwart the stage
Of public action; unheard, unseen,
And unconcerned, as if I ne’er had been.
And thus, while I shall pass my silent days 15
In shady privacy, free from the noise
And bustles of the mad world, then shall I
A good old innocent plebeian die.
Death is a mere surprise, a very snare
To him, that makes it his life’s greatest care 20
To be a public pageant; known to all,
But unacquainted with himself, doth fall.
_Sir Matthew Hale._
CX
_VANISHED BLESSINGS._
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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