Arthur Thomas Quiller-couch High Poems

  • 1.
    Plain Language from truthful James[1].


    Do I sleep? Do I dream?
    ...
  • 2.
    Know you her secret none can utter?
    Hers of the Book, the tripled Crown?
    Still on the spire the pigeons flutter,
    Still by the gateway flits the gown;
    ...
  • 3.
    The Pervigilium Veneris--of unknown authorship, but clearly belonging to the late literature of the Roman Empire--has survived in two MSS., both preserved at Paris in the Bibliothë"que Nationale.

    Of these two MSS. the better written may be assigned (at earliest) to the close of the seventh century; the other (again at earliest) to the close of the ninth. Both are corrupt; the work of two illiterate copyists who--strange to say--were both smatterers enough to betray their little knowledge by converting Pervigilium into Per Virgilium (scilicet, "by Virgil"): thus helping us to follow the process of thought by which the Middle Ages turned Virgil into a wizard. Here and there the texts become quite silly, separately or in consent; and just where they agree in the most surprising way--i.e. in the arrangement of the lines--the conjectural emendator is invited to do his worst by a note at the head of the older Codex, "Sunt vero versus xxii"--"There are rightly twenty-two lines."

    ...
  • 4.
    I

    E. W. B.

    ...
  • 5.
    Not on the neck of prince or hound,
    Nor on a woman's finger twin'd,
    May gold from the deriding ground
    Keep sacred that we sacred bind:
    ...
  • 6.
    You and I and Burd so blithe--
    Burd so blithe, and you, and I--
    The Mower he would whet his scythe
    Before the dew was dry.
    ...
  • 7.
    Designed to show that the practice of lying is not confined to children.

    By the late W. W. (of H.M. Inland Revenue Service).

    ...
  • 8.
    DRAMATIS PERSONAE

    CARL'ANTONIO, Duke of Adria

    ...
Total 8 High Poems by Arthur Thomas Quiller-couch

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Long 13 Face 12 Good 11 White 9 Earth 9 High 8 Town 8 Year 7 Door 7 Sweet 7

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Sonnet Xvi. To Kosciusko
 by John Keats

Good Kosciusko, thy great name alone
Is a full harvest whence to reap high feeling;
It comes upon us like the glorious pealing
Of the wide spheres -- an everlasting tone.
And now it tells me, that in worlds unknown,
The names of heroes, burst from clouds concealing,
And changed to harmonies, for ever stealing
Through cloudless blue, and round each silver throne.
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