Adam Lindsay Gordon
Gordon was born at Fayal in the Azores, son of Captain Adam Durnford Gordon who had married his first cousin, Harriet Gordon, both of whom were descended from Adam of Gordon of the ballad. Captain Gordon, who had retired from the Bengal cavalry and taught Hindustani, was then staying at the Azores for the sake of his wife's health. After living on the island of Madeira, they went to England and lived at Cheltenham in 1840.
Gordon was sent to Cheltenham College in 1841 when he was only seven, but after he had been there a year he was sent to a school kept by the Rev. Samuel Ollis Garrard in Gloucestershire. He attended the Royal Military Academy, Woolwich in 1848, where he was a ... more »
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Adam Lindsay Gordon Poems
An Exile's Farewell
The ocean heaves around us still With long and measured swell, The autumn gales our canvas fill, Our ship rides smooth and well.
They are rhymes rudely strung with intent less Of sound than of words, In lands where bright blossoms are scentless, And songless bright birds;
A Song of Autumn
‘WHERE shall we go for our garlands glad At the falling of the year, When the burnt-up banks are yellow and sad, When the boughs are yellow and sere?
[From a Picture] The sun has gone down, spreading wide on The sky-line one ray of red fire ;
Ashtaroth: A Dramatic Lyric
[A Preface and a Piracy] PROLOGUE OF borrow’d plumes I take the sin, My extracts will apply
Aye, snows are rife in December, And sheaves are in August yet, And you would have me remember, And I would rather forget ;
A burning glass of burnish'd brass, The calm sea caught the noontide rays, And sunny slopes of golden grass And wastes of weed-flower seem to blaze.
Adieu to kindred hearts and home, To pleasure, joy, and mirth, A fitter foot than mine to roam Could scarcely tread the earth ;
With short, sharp violent lights made vivid, To the southward far as the sight can roam, Only the swirl of the surges livid, The seas that climb and the surfs that comb,
A Basket of Flowers
From Dawn to Dusk DAWN ON skies still and starlit White lustres take hold,
A Hunting Song
Here's a health to every sportsman, be he stableman or lord, If his heart be true, I care not what his pocket may afford;
[A Song of Pilgrimage] Our hopes are wild imaginings, Our schemes are airy castles,
The terrible night-watch is over, I turn where I lie, To eastward my dim eyes discover Faint streaks in the sky ;
Comments about Adam Lindsay Gordon
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
An Exile's Farewell
The ocean heaves around us still
With long and measured swell,
The autumn gales our canvas fill,
Our ship rides smooth and well.
The broad Atlantic's bed of foam
Still breaks against our prow;
I shed no tears at quitting home,
Nor will I shed them now!
Against the bulwarks on the poop
I lean, and watch the sun
Behind the red horizon stoop —
His race is nearly run.
Those waves will never quench his light,
O'er which they seem to close,
To-morrow he will rise as bright
As he this morning rose.
How brightly gleams the orb of day