|
|
Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE MOVING OF THE AUTHORS CLUB, by AMOS RUSSEL WELLS Poet's Biography First Line: We have moved our tables and chairs Last Line: Till the last of us pens his last line! Subject(s): Authors - Conferences And Workshops; Writer's Conferences And Workshops | |||
We have moved our tables and chairs, And our multum-in-parvo desk, Our clock with its delicate airs, And our bits of the statuesque. We have moved the pictures and books And the catalogue's groaning weight, The dishes dear to our cooks, And lastly the tea-urn, in state. We have said a quavered good-by To the dear little noisy room, And left it despairing to lie In its dull and commercial doom. And the lions of literature Bid adieu to the lions of stone, The big red lions demure That now are sad and alone. But much that the eye sees not And only spirits divine We move from that hallowed spot To our new and acceptable shrine. Presences dear in the past, Memories precious for aye, Fragrances ever to last, These we move hither to-day. Usher them into the car; Softly! they come! they come! Royally welcome they are As they reach their latest home. First of the entering line, Our imperial Julia Ward Howe, Womanly, strong, and benign, With the nation's bays on her brow. Walking there by her side, Higginson courtly and keen, Soldier of valor tried, Scholar of gracious mien. Bent but massively tall, Hale, the prophet, appears; He who was all things to all Through all of his brotherly years. And Mrs. Moulton the kind, Poet and patron and friend; Gilman, learned and refined; Foss, with his sunshine to spend. See them crowd in at the door! Butterworth, ample of cheer, Guild with his gracious four-score, Lloyd, our knight without fear; Richardson, teacher true-famed, A spirit of steadiest flight; Lilian Dreyfus, well-named, Lily of sweetness and light; Knowles, the Bostonian Keats; Dolbear, in gentle old age; And Alice Palmer, where meets The glory of woman and sage. See them still entering in, Dedicating the door, Throngs of our writer kin, Throngs of our comrades of yore. These are the treasures we move Here to our newest abode, Treasures of friendship and love, Ah, an exuberant load! Here we shall add to our wealth Riches of fellowship rare, -- Friendship, stronger than health; Friendship, fairest of fair. Friendship, the writer's true gold, Here let it gather and shine, The new and the ever-new old, Till the last of us pens his last line! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WRITER'S CONFERENCE by NAOMI SHIHAB NYE ELEGY FOR A WRITER by ELEANOR WILNER TWO STANDARDS by ELISE PASCHEN A SYMPOSIUM by CHRISTOPHER DARLINGTON MORLEY HAD LINCOLN LIVED by AMOS RUSSEL WELLS HAVE YOU FOUND THE BIBLE by AMOS RUSSEL WELLS HAVE YOU SEEN THE ANGELS by AMOS RUSSEL WELLS JUST A LITTLE BIT OF BABY by AMOS RUSSEL WELLS THE ORACULAR OWL by AMOS RUSSEL WELLS THE PRESIDENT WHO DOES IT ALL by AMOS RUSSEL WELLS |
| |