Professor Minto

Nature, that makes Professors all day long,
And, filling idle souls with idle song,
Turns out small Poets every other minute,
Made earth for men - but seldom puts men in it.

Ah, Minto, thou of that minority
Wert man of men - we had deep need of thee!
Had Heaven a deeper? Did the heavenly Chair
Of Earthly Love wait empty for thee there?

March 1, 1893.

Richard Le Gallienne

Richard Le Gallienne was an English author and poet born on January 20, 1866. Known for his lyrical poetry, he was a key figure in the literary circles of the fin de siècle. He contributed to the literary magazine 'The Yellow Book' and was involved with the Rhymers' Club, an influential group of London-based poets. His works often explored themes of beauty, love, and nature. His influence extended to both sides of the Atlantic, and he spent the latter part of his life in the United States, where he continued to write until his death on September 15, 1947.

Richard Le Gallienne

The End

Richard Le Gallienne, Simple Poetry

The Constant Lover

Richard Le Gallienne, Simple Poetry

The Animalcule On Man

Richard Le Gallienne, Simple Poetry

Ballade To A Departing God

Richard Le Gallienne, Simple Poetry

English

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Up! up! my Friend, and quit your books;
Or surely you'll grow double:
Up! up! my Friend, and clear your looks;
Why all this toil and trouble?
The sun above the mountain's head,
A freshening lustre mellow
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And hark! how blithe the throstle sings!
He, too, is no mean preacher:
Come forth into the light of things,
Let Nature be your teacher.

She has a world of ready wealth,
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Mr. MacCall at Cleveland Hall

Mr. MacCall at Cleveland Hall,
Sunday evening-date to fix
Fifteenth April, sixty-six,
Speech reported and redacted
By a fellow much distracted.

I

Who lectures? No mere scorner;
Clear-brained, his heart is warm.

She sits at the nearest comer
Of I will not say what form.


II

The Conflict of Opinions
In the Present Day, saith Chair.

What muff in the British dominions
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III

Mammon-worship is horrid,
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Dark hair from a fine small forehead;
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IV

We wallow in mere dimension,
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An Ode To Spring (To Grant And Nellie Allen)

Is it the Spring?
    Or are the birds all wrong
That play on flute and viol,
    A thousand strong,
In minstrel galleries
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Ode On The Installation Of The Duke Of Devonshire, Chancellor Of The University Of Cambridge, 1862[1]

Hence a while, severer Muses;
Spare your slaves till drear October.
Hence; for Alma Mater chooses
Not to be for ever sober:
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She, pensive, waits the merrier faces
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They tell us that the Muse is soon to fly hence,
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No more with laugher at Thalia's frolics
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Tempora Mutantur.

    There once was a time when I revelled in rhyme, with Valentines deluged my cousins,

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Edward Woodley Bowling