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Horace Smith

Horace Smith

Impromptu in the Assize Court, Nottingham

Thanks for an hour of laughing
 In a world that is growing old;
Thanks for an hour of weeping
 In a world that is growing cold;
For we who have wept with Dickens,
 And we who have laughed with Boz,
Have renewed the days of our childhood
 With his American Coz.

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Altre opere di Horace Smith...
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.
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
Letter From the Town Mouse to the Country

Oh for a field, my friend; oh for… I ask no more Than one plain field, shut in by h… Contentment sweet to yield. For I am not fastidious,
 1
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;
My Boating Song

Oh this earth is a mineful of trea… A goblet, that’s full to the brim, And each man may take for his plea… The thing that’s most pleasant to… Then let all, who are birds of my…
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…
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…
Young England

The times still “grow to something… We rap and turn the tables; We fire our guns at awful range; We lay Atlantic cables; We bore the hills, we bridge the s…
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,
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—
Prologue to a Charade.—“Damn-Ages”

In olden time—in great Eliza’s ag… When rare Ben Jonson ruled the hu… No play without its Prologue migh… To earn applause or ward the criti… And surely now old customs should…
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…
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…
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…
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…



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