IN "taking charge of your possessions when you saw them," you became a golden jay. Scaramouche said you charmed his charm away, But not his colour? Yes, his colour when you liked. Of chiselled setting and black-opalescent dye, You were the jewelry of sense; Of sense, not license; you but trod the pace Of liberty in market-place And court. Molière, The huggermugger repertory of your first adventure, is your own affair. "Anchorites do not dwell in theatres," and peacocks do not flourish in a cell. Why make distinctions? The results were well When you were on the boards; nor were your triumphs bought At horrifying sacrifice of stringency. You hated sham; you ranted up And down through the conventions of excess; Nor did the King love you the less Nor did the world, In whose chief interest and for whose spontaneous delight, your broad tail was unfurled. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DREAM-PEDLARY by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES THE IDLER'S CALENDAR; MAY: THE LONDON SEASON by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT A GOTHAMITE IN CAMELOT by BERTON BRALEY THAT'S HER PRIVILEGE by BERTON BRALEY MASQUE AT THE MARRIAGE OF THE LORD HAYES: SONG by THOMAS CAMPION TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 4. THE JACKDAW by EDWARD CARPENTER |