Robert Louis Stevenson

(1850-1894 / Edinburgh / Scotland)

Ad Quintilianum - Poem by Robert Louis Stevenson

O CHIEF director of the growing race,
Of Rome the glory and of Rome the grace,
Me, O Quintilian, may you not forgive
Before from labour I make haste to live?
Some burn to gather wealth, lay hands on rule,
Or with white statues fill the atrium full.
The talking hearth, the rafters sweet with smoke,
Live fountains and rough grass, my line invoke:
A sturdy slave, not too learned wife,
Nights filled with slumber, and a quiet life.


Comments about Ad Quintilianum by Robert Louis Stevenson

  • Veteran Poet - 1,512 Points Georgios Venetopoulos (9/17/2014 4:25:00 PM)

    A nice poem following the Iambic pentameter form, excepting the fifth line that becomes a quasi-tetrameter. (Report) Reply

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Read poems about / on: life



Poem Submitted: Tuesday, December 31, 2002



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