A Credo
I.
For the sole edification
Of this decent congregation,
Goodly people, by your grant
I will sing a holy chant—
I will sing a holy chant.
If the ditty sound but oddly,
'Twas a father, wise and godly,
Sang it so long ago—
Then sing as Martin Luther sang,
As Doctor Martin Luther sang:
'Who loves not wine, woman and song,
He is a fool his whole life long!'
II.
He, by custom patriarchal,
Loved to see the beaker sparkle;
And he thought the wine improved,
[...] Read more
poem by William Makepeace Thackeray
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
A Doe In The City
Little KITTY LORIMER,
Fair, and young, and witty,
What has brought your ladyship
Rambling to the City?
All the Stags in Capel Court
Saw her lightly trip it;
All the lads of Stock Exchange
Twigg'd her muff and tippet.
With a sweet perplexity,
And a mystery pretty,
Threading through Threadneedle Street,
Trots the little KITTY.
What was my astonishment—
What was my compunction,
When she reached the Offices
Of the Didland Junction!
[...] Read more
poem by William Makepeace Thackeray
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The Almack’s Adieu
Your Fanny was never false-hearted,
And this she protests and she vows,
From the triste moment when we parted
On the staircase of Devonshire House!
I blushed when you asked me to marry,
I vowed I would never forget;
And at parting I gave my dear Harry
A beautiful vinegarette!
We spent en province all December,
And I ne'er condescended to look
At Sir Charles, or the rich county member,
Or even at that darling old Duke.
You were busy with dogs and with horses,
Alone in my chamber I sat,
And made you the nicest of purses,
And the smartest black satin cravat!
At night with that vile Lady Frances
(Je faisois moi tapisserie)
[...] Read more
poem by William Makepeace Thackeray
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The Knightly Guerdon
Untrue to my Ulric I never could be,
I vow by the saints and the blessed Marie,
Since the desolate hour when we stood by the shore,
And your dark galley waited to carry you o'er:
My faith then I plighted, my love I confess'd,
As I gave you the BATTLE-AXE marked with your crest!
When the bold barons met in my father's old hall,
Was not Edith the flower of the banquet and ball?
In the festival hour, on the lips of your bride,
Was there ever a smile save with THEE at my side?
Alone in my turret I loved to sit best,
To blazon your BANNER and broider your crest.
The knights were assembled, the tourney was gay!
Sir Ulric rode first in the warrior-melee.
In the dire battle-hour, when the tourney was done,
And you gave to another the wreath you had won!
Though I never reproached thee, cold, cold was my breast,
As I thought of that BATTLE-AXE, ah! and that crest!
[...] Read more
poem by William Makepeace Thackeray
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Ronsard To His Mistress
'Quand vous serez bien vielle, le soir a la chandelle
Assise aupres du feu devisant et filant,
Direz, chantant mes vers en vous esmerveillant,
Ronsard m'a celebre du temps que j'etois belle.'
Some winter night, shut snugly in
Beside the fagot in the hall,
I think I see you sit and spin,
Surrounded by your maidens all.
Old tales are told, old songs are sung,
Old days come back to memory;
You say, 'When I was fair and young,
A poet sang of me!'
There's not a maiden in your hall,
Though tired and sleepy ever so,
But wakes, as you my name recall,
And longs the history to know.
And, as the piteous tale is said,
Of lady cold and lover true,
[...] Read more
poem by William Makepeace Thackeray
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The Willow-Tree
Know ye the willow-tree
Whose gray leaves quiver,
Whispering gloomily
To yon pale river;
Lady, at even-tide
Wander not near it,
They say its branches hide
A sad, lost spirit?
Once to the willow-tree
A maid came fearful,
Pale seemed her cheek to be,
Her blue eye tearful;
Soon as she saw the tree,
Her step moved fleeter,
No one was there—ah me!
No one to meet her!
Quick beat her heart to hear
The far bell's chime
[...] Read more
poem by William Makepeace Thackeray
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Roger-Bontemps
Aux gens atrabilaires
Pour exemple donne,
En un temps de miseres
Roger-Bontemps est ne.
Vivre obscur a sa guise,
Narguer les mecontens;
Eh gai! c'est la devise
Du gros Roger-Bontemps.
Du chapeau de son pere
Coiffe dans les grands jours,
De roses ou de lierre
Le rajeunir toujours;
Mettre un manteau de bure,
Vieil ami de vingt ans;
Eh gai! c'est la parure
Du gros Roger-Bontemps.
Posseder dans en hutte
Une table, un vieux lit,
[...] Read more
poem by William Makepeace Thackeray
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Mrs. Katherine’s Lantern
'Coming from a gloomy court,
Place of Israelite resort,
This old lamp I've brought with me.
Madam, on its panes you'll see
The initials K and E.'
'An old lantern brought to me?
Ugly, dingy, battered, black!'
(Here a lady I suppose
Turning up a pretty nose)—
'Pray, sir, take the old thing back.
I've no taste for bricabrac.'
'Please to mark the letters twain'—
(I'm supposed to speak again)—
'Graven on the lantern pane.
Can you tell me who was she,
Mistress of the flowery wreath,
And the anagram beneath—
The mysterious K E?
[...] Read more
poem by William Makepeace Thackeray
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The King Of Brentford
There was a king in Brentford,—of whom no legends tell,
But who, without his glory,—could eat and sleep right well.
His Polly's cotton nightcap,—it was his crown of state,
He slept of evenings early,—and rose of mornings late.
All in a fine mud palace,—each day he took four meals,
And for a guard of honor,—a dog ran at his heels,
Sometimes, to view his kingdoms,—rode forth this monarch good,
And then a prancing jackass—he royally bestrode.
There were no costly habits—with which this king was curst,
Except (and where's the harm on't?)—a somewhat lively thirst;
But people must pay taxes,—and kings must have their sport,
So out of every gallon—His Grace he took a quart.
He pleased the ladies round him,—with manners soft and bland;
With reason good, they named him,—the father of his land.
Each year his mighty armies—marched forth in gallant show;
Their enemies were targets—their bullets they were tow.
[...] Read more
poem by William Makepeace Thackeray
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Little Billee
Air--"il y avait un petit navire."
There were three sailors of Bristol city
Who took a boat and went to sea.
But first with beef and captain's biscuits
And pickled pork they loaded she.
There was gorging Jack and guzzling Jimmy,
And the youngest he was little Billee.
Now when they got as far as the Equator
They'd nothing left but one split pea.
Says gorging Jack to guzzling Jimmy,
"I am extreamely hungaree."
To gorging Jack says guzzling Jimmy,
"We've nothing left, us must eat we."
Says gorging Jack to guzzling Jimmy,
"With one another we shouldn't agree!
There's little Bill, he's young and tender,
[...] Read more
poem by William Makepeace Thackeray
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
