Classic and Contemporary Poetry
OCTAVES IN AN OXFORD GARDEN: 6, by ARTHUR W. UPSON Poet's Biography First Line: What hath she uttered that should make me dread Last Line: And smileth on the glory of the dead. Subject(s): Death; Oxford, England; Dead, The | ||||||||
What hath she uttered that should make me dread That brown-robed Abbess with her beads soft-told Who hath her seat upon the fragrant mould And sees the gliding Centuries perfected? Naught. Only good things saying, she, with head Bowed to her task submissively, doth fold An era by for every bead of gold, And smileth on the glory of the Dead. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A FRIEND KILLED IN THE WAR by ANTHONY HECHT FOR JAMES MERRILL: AN ADIEU by ANTHONY HECHT TARANTULA: OR THE DANCE OF DEATH by ANTHONY HECHT CHAMPS D?ÇÖHONNEUR by ERNEST HEMINGWAY NOTE TO REALITY by TONY HOAGLAND A MOTIVE OUT OF LOHENGRIN by ARTHUR W. UPSON |
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