The best man has gone for a game of billiards with the host. The maid of honor is inditing an epistle to one who must fall. The bridesmaids have withdrawn themselves, each with some endurable usher, to an appropriate retreat upon the other coasts of the veranda. The night is full of starlight in May. […]

The two black horses attached to the light buggy were chafing in the crisp October air. Their groom was holding them stiffly, as if bolted to the ground, in the approved fashion insisted upon by the mistress of the house. Old Stuart eyed them impatiently from the tower window of the breakfast-room where he was […]

“John,” my wife remarked in horrified tones, “he’s coming to Rome!” “Who is coming to Rome–the Emperor?” “Uncle Ezra–see,” she handed me the telegram. “Shall arrive in Rome Wednesday morning; have Watkins at the Grand Hotel.” I handed the despatch to Watkins. “Poor uncle!” my wife remarked. “He will get it in the neck,” I […]

They were paying the price of their romance, and the question was whether they would pay it cheerfully. They had been married a couple of years, and the first flush of excitement over their passion and the stumbling-blocks it had met was fading away. When he, an untried young lawyer and delicate dilettante, had married […]

I John Clayton had pretty nearly run the gamut of the fine arts. As a boy at college he had taken a dilettante interest in music, and having shown some power of sketching the summer girl he had determined to become an artist. His numerous friends had hoped such great things for him that he […]

I The narrow slant of water that could be seen between the posts of the felza was rippling with little steely waves. The line of the heavy beak cut the opening between the tapering point of the Lido and the misty outline of Tre Porti. Inside the white lighthouse tower a burnished man- of-war lay […]

NO. I. INTRODUCTORY AND EXPLANATORY. (Eastlake has renewed an episode of his past life. The formalities have been satisfied at a chance meeting, and he continues.) … So your carnations lie over there, a bit beyond this page, in a confusion of manuscripts. Sweet source of this idle letter and gentle memento of the house […]

I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers, Of April, May, of June, and July-flowers; I sing of May-poles, hock-carts, wassails, wakes, Of bride-grooms, brides, and of their bridal-cakes. I write of Youth, of Love;–and have access By these, to sing of cleanly wantonness; I sing of dews, of rains, and, piece by piece, […]

In sober mornings, do not thou rehearse The holy incantation of a verse; But when that men have both well drunk, and fed, Let my enchantments then be sung or read. When laurel spirts i’ th’ fire, and when the hearth Smiles to itself, and gilds the roof with mirth; When up the Thyrse is […]

My Muse in meads has spent her many hours Sitting, and sorting several sorts of flowers, To make for others garlands; and to set On many a head here, many a coronet. But amongst all encircled here, not one Gave her a day of coronation; Till you, sweet mistress, came and interwove A laurel for […]

Make haste away, and let one be A friendly patron unto thee; Lest, rapt from hence, I see thee lie Torn for the use of pastery; Or see thy injured leaves serve well To make loose gowns for mackarel; Or see the grocers, in a trice, Make hoods of thee to serve out spice. Take […]

‘Tis not ev’ry day that I Fitted am to prophesy: No, but when the spirit fills The fantastic pannicles, Full of fire, then I write As the Godhead doth indite. Thus enraged, my lines are hurl’d, Like the Sibyl’s, through the world: Look how next the holy fire Either slakes, or doth retire; So the […]

What will ye, my poor orphans, do, When I must leave the world and you; Who’ll give ye then a sheltering shed, Or credit ye, when I am dead? Who’ll let ye by their fire sit, Although ye have a stock of wit, Already coin’d to pay for it? –I cannot tell: unless there be […]

When I a verse shall make, Know I have pray’d thee, For old religion’s sake, Saint Ben, to aid me Make the way smooth for me, When, I, thy Herrick, Honouring thee on my knee Offer my Lyric. Candles I’ll give to thee, And a new altar; And thou, Saint Ben, shalt be Writ in […]

Julia, if I chance to die Ere I print my poetry, I most humbly thee desire To commit it to the fire: Better ’twere my book were dead, Than to live not perfected.

Go thou forth, my book, though late, Yet be timely fortunate. It may chance good luck may send Thee a kinsman or a friend, That may harbour thee, when I With my fates neglected lie. If thou know’st not where to dwell, See, the fire’s by.–Farewell!

Only a little more I have to write: Then I’ll give o’er, And bid the world good-night. ‘Tis but a flying minute, That I must stay, Or linger in it: And then I must away. O Time, that cut’st down all, And scarce leav’st here Memorial Of any men that were; –How many lie forgot […]

If hap it must, that I must see thee lie Absyrtus-like, all torn confusedly; With solemn tears, and with much grief of heart, I’ll recollect thee, weeping, part by part; And having wash’d thee, close thee in a chest With spice; that done, I’ll leave thee to thy rest.

Thou shalt not all die; for while Love’s fire shines Upon his altar, men shall read thy lines; And learn’d musicians shall, to honour Herrick’s Fame, and his name, both set and sing his lyrics. To his book’s end this last line he’d have placed:– Jocund his Muse was, but his Life was chaste.

TO THE HONOURED MR ENDYMION PORTER, GROOM OF THE BED-CHAMBER TO HIS MAJESTY Sweet country life, to such unknown, Whose lives are others’, not their own! But serving courts and cities, be Less happy, less enjoying thee. Thou never plough’st the ocean’s foam To seek and bring rough pepper home: Nor to the Eastern Ind […]