Poeticous Logo
en
English Español Français Italiano
Horace Smith

Horace Smith

At the “Cock” Tavern

Champagne doth not a luncheon make,
 Nor caviare a meal;
Men gluttonous and rich may take
 These till they make them ill.
If I’ve potatoes to my chop,
 And after that have cheese,
Angels in Pond & Spiers’s shop
 Serve no such luxuries.

#English

Enjoyed this read? Treat us to a coffee!.
Your help allows us to exist.
Other works by Horace Smith...
Isle of Wight—Spring, 1891

I know not what the cause may be, Or whether there be one or many; But this year’s Spring has seemed… More exquisite than any. What happy days we spent together
Prothalamion

Nothing so true as what you once l… “To growl at something is the lot… Contentment is a gem on earth unkn… And Perfect Happiness the wizard’… Give me,” you cried, “to see my du…
Ozymandias

In Egypt’s sandy silence, all alo… Stands a gigantic Leg, which far… The only shadow that the Desert k… “I am great Ozymandias,” saith th… “The King of Kings; this mighty…
To a Scientific Friend

You say ‘tis plain that poets feig… And from the truth depart; They write with ease what fibs the… With artifice, not art; Dearer to you the simply true—
Air—“Three Fishers Went Sailing.”

Three attorneys came sailing down… Down Chancery Lane e’er the court… They thought of the leaders they o… But the Junior Bar, oh, they thou… For serjeants get work and Q.C.'s…
On Circuit

Two neighbours, fighting for a yar… Two witnesses, who _lie_ on either… Two lawyers, issuing many writs an… Two clerks, in a dark passage coun… Two counsel, calling one another n…
Air—“Give That Wreath to Me”

Give that brief to me, Without so much bother; Never let it be Given to another. Why this coy resistance?
Effusion by a Cigar Smoker

Warriors! who from the cannon’s mo… Your fame to raise, Upon its blaze, Alas! ye do but light your funeral… Tempting Fate’s stroke;
To the Rev. A. A. in the Country From His Friend in London

Thou little village curate, Come quick, and do not wait; We’ll sit and talk together, So sweetly _tete-a-tete_. Oh do not fear the railway
An Attempt to Remember the “Grandmother's Apology”

And Willie, my eldest born, is go… Ruddy and white, and strong on his… He was only fourscore years, quite… I ought to have gone before, but m… So Harry’s wife has written; she…
An Olde Lyric

Oh, saw ye my own true love, I pr… My own true love so sweete? For the flowers have lightly toss’… The prynte of her faery feete. Now, how can we telle if she passe…
Lullaby

Sleep, little baby, sleep, love, s… Evening is coming, and night is ni… Under the lattice the little birds… All will be sleeping by and by. Sleep, little baby, sleep.
Love and Liberty

The linnet had flown from its cage… And flitted and sang in the light… Had flown from the lady who loved… In Liberty’s freer air to dwell. Alas! poor bird, it was soon to pr…
 1
Impromptu in the Assize Court at Lincoln

The moon in the valley of Ajalon Stood still at the word of the pro… But since certain “Essays” were w… We don’t think so very much of it. Now, a prophet is raised up among…
The Curate to His Slippers

Take, oh take those boots away, That so nearly are outworn; And those shoes remove, I pray— Pumps that but induce the corn! But my slippers bring again,



Top