Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

LAMB, by             Poem Explanation     Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: Saint charles! For thackeray called thee so


Saint Charles! for Thackeray called thee so:
Saint Charles! for Thackeray called thee so:
Saint, at whose name our fond hearts glow:
Saint, at whose name our fond hearts glow:
See now, this age of tedious woe,
See now, this age of tedious woe,
That snaps and snarls!
That snaps and snarls!

Thine was a life of tragic shade;

A life, of care and sorrow made:
Thine was a life of tragic shade;
But nought could make thine heart afraid,
A life, of care and sorrow made:
Gentle Saint Charles!
But nought could make thine heart afraid,

Gentle Saint Charles!


Encumbered dearly with old books,

Thou, by the pleasant chimney nooks,
Encumbered dearly with old books,
Didst laugh, with merry-meaning looks,
Thou, by the pleasant chimney nooks,
Thy griefs away:
Didst laugh, with merry-meaning looks,
We, bred on modern magazines,
Thy griefs away:
Point out, how much our sadness means;

And some new woe our wisdom gleans,

Day by dull day.
We, bred on modern magazines,

Point out, how much our sadness means;

And some new woe our wisdom gleans,
Lover of London! whilst thy feet
Day by dull day.
Haunted each old familiar street,

Thy brave heart found life's turmoil sweet,

Despite life's pain.
Lover of London! whilst thy feet
We fume and fret and, when we can,
Haunted each old familiar street,
Cry up some new and noisy plan,
Thy brave heart found life's turmoil sweet,
Big with the Rights and Wrongs of Man:
Despite life's pain.
And where's the gain?

Gentle Saint Charles! I turn to thee,

Tender and true: thou teachest me
We fume and fret and, when we can,

Cry up some new and noisy plan,

Big with the Rights and Wrongs of Man:
To take with joy, what joys there be,
And where's the gain?
And bear the rest.

Walking thy London day by day,

The thought of thee makes bright my way,
Gentle Saint Charles! I turn to thee,
And in thy faith I fain would stay,
Tender and true: thou teachest me
Doing my best.
To take with joy, what joys there be,

And bear the rest.


Along the Mall, along the Strand,

Each turn I take, still thou dost stand,
Walking thy London day by day,
A patron spirit, at mine hand:
The thought of thee makes bright my way,
So, should my choice,
And in thy faith I fain would stay,
Beside the dear book-laden stall,
Doing my best.
On books not books perversely fall:

Nay! take the play, the pastoral!

Pleads thy wise voice.
Along the Mall, along the Strand,

Each turn I take, still thou dost stand,

A patron spirit, at mine hand:
So, though the world be full of noise;
So, should my choice,
And most new books, but foolish toys;

I share with thee thine ancient joys,

Marvell or Quarles:
Beside the dear book-laden stall,
So, tired with rambling through the Town,
On books not books perversely fall:
I taste the rich delights of Browne;
Nay! take the play, the pastoral!
With Elia for the evening's crown,
Pleads thy wise voice.
Gentle Saint Charles!




So, though the world be full of noise;
And most new books, but foolish toys;
I share with thee thine ancient joys,
Marvell or Quarles:




So, tired with rambling through the Town,
I taste the rich delights of Browne;
With Elia for the evening's crown,
Gentle Saint Charles!






Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!


Other Poems of Interest...
Home: PoetryExplorer.net