Classic and Contemporary Poetry
OXFORD, by LIONEL PIGOT JOHNSON Poem Explanation Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Over, the four long years! And now there rings Last Line: And those high places, that are beauty's home. Subject(s): Oxford University | ||||||||
Over, the four long years! And now there rings One voice of freedom and regret: Farewell! Now old remembrance sorrows, and now sings: But song from sorrow, now, I cannot tell. City of weathered cloister and worn court; Gray city of strong towers and clustering spires: Where art's fresh loveliness would first resort; Where lingering art kindled her latest fires. Where on all hands, wondrous with ancient grace, Grace touched with age, rise works of goodliest men: Next Wykeham's art obtain their splendid place The zeal of Inigo, the strength of Wren. Where at each coign of every antique street, A memory hath taken root in stone: There, Raleigh shone; there, toil'd Franciscan feet; There, Johnson flinch'd not, but endured alone. There, Shelley dream'd his white Platonic dreams; There, classic Landor throve on Roman thought; There, Addison pursued his quiet themes; There, smiled Erasmus, and there, Colet taught. And there, O memory more sweet than all! Lived he, whose eyes keep yet our passing light; Whose crystal lips Athenian speech recall; Who wears Rome's purple with least pride, most right. That is the Oxford, strong to charm us yet: Eternal in her beauty and her past. What, though her soul be vexed? She can forget Cares of an hour: only, the great things last. Only the gracious air, only the charm, And ancient might of true humanities: These, nor assault of man, nor time, can harm; Not these, nor Oxford with her memories. Together have we walked with willing feet Gardens of plenteous trees, bowering soft lawn: Hills whither Arnold wandered; and all sweet June meadows, from the troubling world withdrawn: Chapels of cedarn fragrance, and rich gloom Poured from empurpled panes on either hand: Cool pavements, carved with legends of the tomb; Grave haunts, where we might dream, and understand. Over, the four long years! And unknown powers Call to us, going forth upon our way: Ah! turn we, and look back upon the towers, That rose above our lives, and cheered the day. Proud and serene, against the sky, they gleam: Proud and secure, upon the earth, they stand: Our city hath the air of a pure dream, And hers indeed is an Hesperian land. Think of her so! the wonderful, the fair, The immemorial, and the ever young: The city, sweet with our forefathers' care; The city, where the Muses all have sung. Ill times may be; she hath no thought of time: She reigns beside the waters yet in pride. Rude voices cry: but in her ears the chime Of full, sad bells brings back her old springtide. Like to a queen in pride of place, she wears The splendour of a crown in Radcliffe's dome. Well fare she, well! As perfect beauty fares; And those high places, that are beauty's home. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CHRIST CHURCH MEADOWS, OXFORD by DONALD HALL OXFORD, THIRTY YEARS AFTER by JOHN UPDIKE THE SCHOLAR GIPSY by MATTHEW ARNOLD THE SPIRES OF OXFORD by WINIFRED MARY LETTS THE TALENTED MAN by WINTHROP MACKWORTH PRAED SONNET: ON HAVING DINED AT TRINITY COLLEGE, OXFORD by JOHN CODRINGTON BAMPFYLDE THE BALLAD OF MY FRIEND by J. D. BEAZLEY LETTER TO B.W. PROCTOR, ESQ., FROM OXFORD; MAY, 1825 by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES BY THE STATUE OF KING CHARLES AT CHARING CROSS by LIONEL PIGOT JOHNSON THE CHURCH OF A DREAM; TO BERNHARD BERENSON by LIONEL PIGOT JOHNSON |
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