Andrew Lang

New Collected Rhymes Andrew Lang

DEAR Poet, now turned out to grass (Like him who reigned in Babylon), Forget the seasons overlaid By business and the Board of Trade: And sing of old-world lad and lass As in the summers that are gone. Back to the golden prime of Anne! When you ambassador had been, And brought o'er sea the King again, Beatrix Esmond in his train, Ah, happy bard to hold her fan, And happy land with such a Queen!We live too early, or too late, You should have shared the pint of Pope, And taught, well pleased, the shining shell To murmur of the fair Lepel, And changed the stars of St. John's fate To some more happy horoscope. By duchesses with roses crowned, And fed with chicken and champagne, Urbane and witty, and too wary To risk the feud of Lady Mary, You should have walked the courtly ground Of times that cannot come again. Bring back these years in verse or prose, (I very much prefer your verse!) As on some Twenty-Ninth of May Restore the splendour and the sway, Forget the sins, the wars, the woes- The joys alone must you rehearse.