"Rather be dead than praised," he said,
That hero, like a hero dead,
In this slack-sinewed age endued
With more than antique fortitude!

"Rather be dead than praised!" Shall we,
Who loved thee, now that Death sets free
Thine eager soul, with word and line
Profane that empty house of thine?

Nay,--let us hold, be mute. Our pain
Will not be less that we refrain;
And this our silence shall but be
A larger monument to thee.

(C) Henry Austin Dobson
06/30/2019


Best Poems of Henry Austin Dobson

• At The Convent Gate.
• Premiers Amours.
• To His Book.
• A Broken Sword.
• In Town.
• To A Child.
• Charles George Gordon.
• My Books.
• Of His Mistress.
• Growing Gray.
• An Epistle To An Editor
• A Love-song.
• Horatian Ode On The Tercentenary Of "don Quixote"
• The Poet And The Critics.
• Lines To A Stupid Picture.
• The Virgin With The Bells.
• The Two Painters.
• To A Pastoral Poet.
• Urceus Exit