Diffidence.

    I cannot deck my thought in proud attire,
    Or make it fit for thee in any dress,
    Or sing to thee the songs of thy desire,
    In summer's heat, or by the winter's fire,
    Or give thee cause to comfort or to bless.
    For I have scann'd mine own unworthiness
    And well I know the weakness of the lyre
    Which I have striven to sway to thy caress.
    Yet must I quell my tears and calm the smart
    Of my vext soul, and steadfastly emerge
    From lonesome thoughts, as from the tempest's surge.
    I must control the beating of my heart,
    And bid false pride be gone, who, with his art,
    Has press'd, too long, a suit I dare not urge.

Eric Mackay

Eric Mackay, born on June 1, 1851, was a noted English poet whose work gained recognition in the late 19th century. He is best known for his sonnets and lyrical poetry, which were celebrated for their emotional depth and technical mastery. His most famous work, 'Love Letters of a Violinist,' was well-received during his lifetime. Mackay's contributions to English literature have been acknowledged for their artistic merit. He passed away on June 8, 1898.

Eric Mackay

Death.

Eric Mackay, Simple Poetry

A Prayer For England.

Eric Mackay, Simple Poetry

An Ode To Englishmen.

Eric Mackay, Simple Poetry

Love Letters of a Violinist. Letter I. Prelude.

Eric Mackay, Simple Poetry

English

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Love's Defeat.

    Do what I will, I cannot chant so well
    As other men; and yet my soul is true.
    My hopes are bold; my thoughts are hard to tell,
    But thou can'st read them, and accept them, too,
    Though, half-abash'd, they seem to hide from view.
    I strike the lyre, I sound the hollow shell;
    And why? For comfort, when my thoughts rebel,
    And when I count the woes that must ensue.
    But for this reason, and no other one,
    I dare to look thy way, and bow my head
    To thy sweet name, as sunflower to the sun,
    Though, peradventure, not so wisely fed
    With garden fancies. Tears must now be shed,
    Unnumber'd tears, till life or love be done!

Eric Mackay

True Diffidence.

My boy, you may take it from me,
That of all the afflictions accurst
With which a man's saddled
And hampered and addled,
A diffident nature's the worst.
Though clever as clever can be
A Crichton of early romance
You must stir it and stump it,
And blow your own trumpet,
Or, trust me, you haven't a chance.

Now take, for example, my case:
I've a bright intellectual brain
In all London city
There's no one so witty
I've thought so again and again.
I've a highly intelligent face
My features cannot be denied
But, whatever I try, sir,
I fail in and why, sir?
I'm modesty personified!

As a poet, I'm tender and quaint
I've passion and fervor and grace
From Ovid and Horace
To Swinburne and Morris,
They all of them...

William Schwenck Gilbert

A Lover's Litanies - Second Litany. Vox Amorís.[1]

i.

Vouchsafe, my Lady! by the passion-flower,
    And by the glamour of a moonlit hour,
And by the cries and sighs of all the birds
That sing o'nights, to heed again the words
Of my poor pleading! For I swear to thee
My love is deeper than the bounding sea,
    And more conclusive than a wedding-bell,
And freer-voiced than winds upon the lea.

[Footnote 1: This Litany was introduced in the Author's "Gladys the Singer," published by Messrs. Reeves & Turner, London, 1887.]


ii.

In all the world, from east unto the west,
    There is no vantage-ground, and little rest,
And no content for me from dawn to dark,
From set of sun to song-time of the lark,
And yet, withal, there is no man alive
Who for a goodly cause to make it thrive,

Eric Mackay

A Lover's Litanies - Fourth Litany. Gratia Plena.

i.

Oh, smile on me, thou syren of my soul!
    That I may curb my thoughts to some control
And not offend thee, as in truth I do,
Morning, and noon and night, when I pursue
My vagrant fancies, unallow'd of thee,
But fraught with such consolement unto me
    As may be felt in homeward-sailing ships
When wind and wave contend upon the sea.


ii.

Dower me with patience and imbue me still
    With some reminder, when the night is chill,
Of thy dear presence, as, in winter-time,
The maiden moon, that tenderly doth climb
The lofty heavens, hath yet a beam to spare
For doleful wretches in their dungeon-lair;
    E'en thus endow me in my chamber dim
With some reminder of thy face so fair!


iii.

Quit thou thy body w...

Eric Mackay

Love Letters of a Violinist. Letter V. Confessions.



Letter V. Confessions.


I.

    O Lady mine! O Lady of my Life!
    Mine and not mine, a being of the sky
    Turn'd into Woman, and I know not why -
    Is't well, bethink thee, to maintain a strife
    With thy poor servant? War unto the knife,
    Because I greet thee with a lover's eye?


II.

    Is't well to visit me with thy disdain,
    And rack my soul, because, for love of thee,
    I was too prone to sink upon my knee,
    And too intent to make my meaning plain,
    And too resolved to make my loss a gain
    To...

Eric Mackay

A Lover's Litanies - Third Litany. Ad Te Clamavi.

i.

Again, O Love! again I make lament,
    And, Arab-like, I pitch my summer-tent
Outside the gateways of the Lord of Song.
I weep and wait, contented all day long
To be the proud possessor of a grief.
It comforts me. It gives me more relief
    Than pleasures give; and, spirit-like in air,
It re-invokes the peace that was so brief.


ii.

It speaks of thee. It keeps me from the lake
    Which else might tempt me; and for thy sweet sake
I shun all evil. I am calmer now
Than when I wooed thee, calmer than the vow
Which made me thine, and yet so fond withal
I start and tremble at the wind's footfall.
    Is it the wind? Or is it mine own past
Come back to life to lure me to its thrall?


iii.

I long to rise and...

Eric Mackay