Austin Dobson
Austin Dobson
Austin Dobsonwas a racing driver from England. He was the brother of Arthur Charles Dobson, who was also a racing driver...
decline
For I respectfully decline To dignify the Serpentine, And make hors-d'oeuvres for fishes.
colour ladies painted red stays white
The ladies of St James's! They're painted to the eyes, Their white it stays for ever, Their red it never dies: But Phyllida, my Phyllida! Her colour comes and goes; It trembles to a lily, It wavers to a rose.
body carry climb earth eye kings throw
Carry his body hence! Kings must have slaves: Kings climb to eminence, Over men's graves: So this man's eye is dim; Throw the earth over him!
random rose
And I wove the thing to a random rhyme, For the Rose is Beauty, the Gardener, Time.
dust shall yellow
What ye have been ye still shall be, When we are dust the dust among, O yellow flowers!
books ours rows stamp steam
Not as ours the books of old - Things that steam can stamp and fold; Not as ours the books of yore - Rows of type, and nothing more.
intended turned
I intended an Ode, And it turned to a Sonnet.
blessing deathly delight hour last night paid seal slumber thou thy till utmost
Look thy last on all things lovely, Every hour - let no night Seal thy sense in deathly slumber Till to delight Thou hast paid thy utmost blessing
life time passing-by
Time goes, you say? Ah, no! alas, time stays, we go.
strong book wine
Old books, old wine, old Nankin blue;- All things, in short, to which belong The charm, the grace that Time makes strong, All these I prize, but (entre nous) Old friends are best!
unseen seen-and-unseen
Love comes unseen; we only see it go.
dance couple play
O, Love's but a dance, Where Time plays the fiddle! See the couples advance - O, Love's but a dance! A whisper, a glance, "Shall we twirl down the middle?" O, Love's but a dance, Where Time plays the fiddle!
eye men artist
He is a Patron who looks down, / With careless eyes on men who drown; / But if they chance to reach the land, / Encumbers them with helping hand
beauty eye white
The ladies of St. James's! They're painted to the eyes; Their white is stays for ever, Their red it never dies; But Phyllida, my Phillida! Her colour comes and goes; It trembles to a lily,-- It wavers to a rose.