I go from colonnade to colonnade
In streets that Dante trod, and past the towers
Aslant toward heaven, and listen to the hours
Chimed by the bells of choirs where Dante prayed.
They cease; then lo! the foot of time seems stayed
Five hundred years and more, I find me bowers
Where sweet and noble ladies weave them flowers
For one who reads Boccaccio in the shade.
The cowlèd students halt by two and threes
To hear the voice come thrilling through the trees,
Then tear themselves away to themes more trite.
Anon I mark the diligent hands that turn
Unlovely parchment scrolls whereby to learn
The beauty of inexorable right.
A Garden Party in the Temple
On hospitable thoughts intent
To me the Inner Temple sent
An invitation,
A garden party 'twas to be,
And I accepted readily
And with elation;
Good reason too, but oft the seeds
Of reason flower in senseless deeds.
I stood as savage as a bear,
For not a human being there
Knew I from Adam
I heard around in various tones,
"So glad to see you, Mr. Jones;"
"Good morning, Madam."
It seemed so painfully absurd
To stand and never speak a word.
I brought my doom upon myself,
And there I was upon the shelf
In melancholy.
Why, say you, did I go at all?
I once met Chloris at a ball,
And in my folly
I went and suffered all this pain
In hopes to see her once again.
Of strawberries a pound at least
I ate, and made myself a beast
With tea and sherry;
And raspberries I ate and trembled,
Until I felt that I resembled
Myself a berry,
But 'twas the berry that at school
We used to call a gooseberry fool.
The I. C. R. V.[F] band droned on,
While guests had come and guests had gone
Since my arrival;
My brow grew gloomier with despair,
And on it sat the guilty air
Of a survival
Of some remorse for ancient crimes
Wrought in the pre-historic times.