Green Bays

The Project Gutenberg EBook of Green Bays. Verses and Parodies by Arthur Thomas Quiller-Couch
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Title: Green Bays. Verses and Parodies
Author: Arthur Thomas Quiller-Couch
Release Date: October 18, 2005 [EBook #16898]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
? START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GREEN BAYS. VERSES AND PARODIES ***
Produced by Lionel Sear
GREEN BAYS.
VERSES AND PARODIES.
BY ARTHUR THOMAS QUILLER-COUCH (Q).
ET, SI NON ALIUM LATE JACTARET ODOREM LAURUS ERAT.
Most of the verses in this volume were written at Oxford, and first appeared in the 'Oxford Magazine.' A few are reprinted from 'The Speaker' and a few from certain works of fiction published by Messrs. Cassell and Co.
Q.
CONTENTS.
IN A COLLEGE GARDEN.
THE SPLENDID SPUR.
THE WHITE MOTH.
IRISH MELODIES?I. TIM THE DRAGOON.?II. KENMARE RIVER.
LADY JANE (SAPPHICS).
A TRIOLET.
AN OATH.
UPON GRACIOSA, WALKING AND TALKING.
WRITTEN UPON LOVE'S FRONTIER-POST.
TITANIA.
MEASURE FOR MEASURE.
RETROSPECTION.
WHY THIS VOLUME IS SO THIN.
NUGAE OXONIENSES.
TWILIGHT.
WILLALOO.
THE SAIR STROKE.
THE DOOM OF THE ESQUIRE BEDELL.
'BEHOLD! I AM NOT ONE THAT GOES TO LECTURES.'
CALIBAN UPON RUDIMENTS.
SOLVITUR ACRIS HIEMPS.
A LETTER.
OCCASIONAL VERSES.
ANECDOTE FOR FATHERS.
UNITY PUT QUARTERLY.
FIRE!
DE TEA FABULA.
L'ENVOI (AS I LAYE A-DREAMYNGE).
IN A COLLEGE GARDEN.
Senex. Saye, cushat, callynge from the brake,
What ayles thee soe to pyne?
Thy carefulle heart shall cease to ake
When dayes be fyne
And greene thynges twyne:
Saye, cushat, what thy griefe to myne?
Turtur. Naye, gossyp, loyterynge soe late,
What ayles thee thus to chyde?
My love is fled by garden-gate;
Since Lammas-tyde
I wayte my bryde.
Saye, gossyp, whom dost thou abyde?
Senex. Loe! I am he, the 'Lonelie Manne,'
Of Time forgotten quite,
That no remembered face may scanne--
Sadde eremyte,
I wayte tonyghte
Pale Death, nor any other wyghte.

O cushat, cushat, callynge lowe,
Goe waken Time from sleepe:
Goe whysper in his ear, that soe
His besom sweepe
Me to that heape
Where all my recollections keepe.

Hath he forgott? Or did I viewe
A ghostlye companye
This even, by the dismalle yewe,
Of faces three
That beckoned mee
To land where no repynynges bee?

O Harrye, Harrye, Tom and Dicke,
Each lost companion!
Why loyter I among the quicke,