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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
A GENTLEWOMAN OF THE OLD SCHOOL, by HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: She lived in georgian era too Last Line: The frenchman planted. Alternate Author Name(s): Dobson, Austin | |||
SHE lived in Georgian era too. Most women then, if bards be true, Succumbed to Routs and Cards, or grew Devout and acid. But hers was neither fate. She came Of good west-country folk, whose fame Has faded now. For us her name Is 'Madam Placid'. Patience or Prudence, -- what you will, Some prefix faintly fragrant still As those old musky scents that fill Our grandams' pillows; And for her youthful portrait take Some long-waist child of Hudson's make, Stiffly at ease beside a lake With swans and willows. I keep her later semblance placed Beside my desk, -- 'tis lawned and laced, In shadowy sanguine stipple traced By Bartolozzi; A placid face, in which surprise Is seldom seen, but yet there lies Some vestige of the laughing eyes Of arch Piozzi. For her e'en Time grew debonair. He, finding cheeks unclaimed of care, With late-delayed faint roses there, And lingering dimples, Had spared to touch the fair old face, And only kissed with Vauxhall grace The soft white hand that stroked her lace, Or smoothed her wimples. So left her beautiful. Her age Was comely as her youth was sage, And yet she once had been the rage; -- It hath been hinted, Indeed, affirmed by one or two, Some spark at Bath (as sparks will do) Inscribed a song to 'Lovely Prue,' Which Urban printed. I know she thought; I know she felt; Perchance could sum, I doubt she spelt; She knew as little of the Celt As of the Saxon; I know she played and sang, for yet We keep the tumble-down spinet To which she quavered ballads set By Arne or Jackson. Her tastes were not refined as ours; She liked plain food and homely flowers, Refused to paint, kept early hours, Went clad demurely; Her art was sampler-work design, Fireworks for her were 'vastly fine,' Her luxury was elder-wine, -- She loved that 'purely.' She was renowned, traditions say, For June conserves, for curds and whey, For finest tea (she called it 'tay'), And ratafia; She knew, for sprains, what bands to choose, Could tell the sovereign wash to use For freckles, and was learned in brews As erst Medea. Yet studied little. She would read, On Sundays, 'Pearson on the Creed,' Though, as I think, she could not heed His text profoundly; Seeing she chose for her retreat The warm west-looking window-seat, Where, if you chanced to raise your feet, You slumbered soundly. This, 'twixt ourselves. The dear old dame, In truth, was not so much to blame; The excellent divine I name Is scarcely stirring; Her plain-song piety preferred Pure life to precept. If she erred, She knew her faults. Her softest word Was for the erring. If she had loved, or if she kept Some ancient memory green, or wept Over the shoulder-knot that slept Within her cuff-box, I know not. Only this I know, At sixty-five she'd still her beau, A lean French exile, lame and slow, With monstrous snuff-box. Younger than she, well-born and bred. She'd found him in St. Giles', half dead Of teaching French for nightly bed And daily dinners; Starving, in fact, 'twixt want and pride; And so, henceforth, you always spied His rusty 'pigeon-wings' beside Her Mechlin pinners. He worshipped her, you may suppose. She gained him pupils, gave him clothes. Delighted in his dry bons mots And cackling laughter; And when, at last, the long duet Of conversation and picquet Ceased with her death, of sheer regret He died soon after. Dear Madam Placid! Others knew Your worth as well as he, and threw Their flowers upon your coffin too, I take for granted. Their loves are lost; but still we see Your kind and gracious memory Bloom yearly with the almond tree The Frenchman planted. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A GAGE D'AMOUR by HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON A GARDEN SONG by HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON ARS VICTRIX (IMITATED FROM THEOPHILE GAUTIER) by HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON BEFORE SEDAN by HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON DORA VERSUS ROSE by HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON GROWING GRAY by HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW; IN MEMORIAM by HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON IN AFTER DAYS; RONDEAU by HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON THE BALLAD OF PROSE AND RHYME by HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON WHEN THERE IS PEACE by HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON |
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