Sydney Thompson Dobell
Sydney Thompson Dobell (April 5, 1824 – August 22, 1874), English poet and critic, was born at Cranbrook, Kent.
His father was a wine merchant, his mother a daughter of Samuel Thompson (1766-1837), a London political reformer. The family moved to Cheltenham when Dobell was twelve years old. He was educated privately, and never attended either school or university. He refers to this in some lines on Cheltenham College in imitation of Chaucer, written in his eighteenth year. After a five years engagement he married, in 1844, Emily Fordham, a lady of good family. An acquaintance with Mr (subsequently Sir James) Stansfeld and with the Birmingham preacher-politician, George Dawson ... more »
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Sydney Thompson Dobell Poems
Dante, Shakespeare, Milton - From
Doctor. Ah! thou, too, Sad Alighieri, like a waning moon Setting in storm behind a grove of bays! Balder. Yes, the great Florentine, who wove his web
NOR force nor fraud shall sunder us! O ye Who north or south, on east or western land, Native to noble sounds, say truth for truth, Freedom for freedom, love for love, and God
The Son thou sentest forth is now a Thought- A Dream. To all but thee he is as nought As if he had gone back into the same
An Autumn Mood
Pile the pyre, light the fire-there is fuel enough and to spare; You have fire enough and to spare with your madness and gladness;
YOU may give over plough, boys, You may take the gear to the stead, All the sweat o' your brow, boys, Will never get beer and bread.
Captain be he, my England, who doth know Not careful coasts, with inland welcomes warm; But who, with heart infallible, can go
There came to me softly a small wind from the sea. And it lifted a curl as it passed by me. But I sang sorrow and ho the heavy day!
Afloat And Ashore
'Tumble and rumble, and grumble and snort, Like a whale to starboard, a whale to port; Tumble and rumble, and grumble and snort,
Cavalry Charge At Balaclava
Traveller on foreign ground, whoe'er thou art, Tell the great tidings! They went down that day A Legion, and came back from victory
We could not turn from that colossal foe, The morning shadow of whose hideous head Darkened the furthest West, and who did throw
Fire away, fire away, boys must have their play, There'll be hard work yet Before sunset: But what of the day when the boys have had their play?
At The Grave Of A Spanish Friend
Here lies who of two mighty realms was free; The English-Spaniard, who lived England's good With such a Spain of splendour in the blood
Oh Ladye fair, oh Ladye fair and mine, Where'er thou be, Canst thou divine The Love that hungers thus in me?
Oh water, water-water deep and still, In this hollow of the hill, Thou helenge well o'er which the long reeds lean,
Comments about Sydney Thompson Dobell
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
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Edgar Allan Poe
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(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
Dante, Shakespeare, Milton - From
Doctor. Ah! thou, too,
Sad Alighieri, like a waning moon
Setting in storm behind a grove of bays!
Balder. Yes, the great Florentine, who wove his web
And thrust it into hell, and drew it forth
Immortal, having burn’d all that could burn,
And leaving only what shall still be found
Untouch’d, nor with the small of fire upon it,
Under the final ashes of this world.
Doctor. Shakespeare and Milton!
Balder. Switzerland and home.
I ne’er see Milton, but I see the Alps,
As once, sole standing on a peak supreme,
To the ...