. The ballad of Beau Brocade, and other poems of the XVIIIth century. ^jAv?* ^^>zC,jj, !^,i^. DREW it from its china tomb;— It came out feebly scentedWith some thin ghost of past perfumeThat dust and days had lent it. An old, old letter,—folded still! To read with due composure,I sought the sun-lit window-sill. Above the gray enclosure, 48 A Dead Letter. That glimmering in the sultry haze,Faint-flowered, dimly shaded. Slumbered like Goldsmiths Madam Blaize,Bedizened and brocaded. A queer old place ! You d surely saySome tea-board garden-maker Had planned it in Dutch Williams da
. The ballad of Beau Brocade, and other poems of the XVIIIth century. ^jAv?* ^^>zC,jj, !^,i^. DREW it from its china tomb;— It came out feebly scentedWith some thin ghost of past perfumeThat dust and days had lent it. An old, old letter,—folded still! To read with due composure,I sought the sun-lit window-sill. Above the gray enclosure, 48 A Dead Letter. That glimmering in the sultry haze,Faint-flowered, dimly shaded. Slumbered like Goldsmiths Madam Blaize,Bedizened and brocaded. A queer old place ! You d surely saySome tea-board garden-maker Had planned it in Dutch Williams dayTo please some florist Quaker, So trim it was. The yew-trees still, With pious care perverted,Grew in the. same grim shapes; and still The lipless dolphin spurted; Still in his wonted state abode The broken-nosed Apollo;And still the cypress-arbour showed The same umbrageous hollow. A Dead Letter. 49 Only,—as fresh young Beauty gleams From coffee-coloured kces,—So peeped from its old-fashioned dreams The fresher modem traces; For idle mallet, hoop, and ball Upon the lawn were lying;A magazine, a
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Keywords: ., bookauthordobsonau, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1890, bookyear1892
