Archive for February 2012

To S—– and To the Same (An Autograph)   Leave a comment

Above:  Portrait of Jeanna Samary, by Pierre-Auguste Renoir

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TO S—–

No amorous gust is sweeping o’er my heart,

Which does these grating rhymes of mine inspire;

My strain is feeble, yet it takes its start

From impulse nobler, and from feeling higher.

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‘Tis from esteem of that true woman’s worth

Which shines in thee with such unclouded ray,

To which nor wealth nor titles can give birth,

Whose brightness naught can ever take away.

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And yet my feeble Muse dare not essay

A task as arduous as the task would be

In prose, or rhyme, or in both, to portray

The charms which make their focus, Miss, in thee.

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The graceful form, the stately mien may wake

An evanescent flash of amorous fire,

Yet mental charms outshine it and but make

Its feeble flame grow languid and expire.

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A smooth and placid temper like to thine,

A mind so wealthy, heart so true to right,

Are charms which, with far brighter lustre, shine

Than that which wealth or fame can ever light.

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 TO THE SAME (AN AUTOGRAPH)

Little page, so fair, so white,

Take the name that here I write;

Let not time’s rude hand erase it,

Let not negligence efface it,

Till perhaps when years have flown,

It from memory’s page is gone,

And thy owner o’er thee bends,

Calling up forgotten friends;

For a passing thought assail her

Of that name–’tis J.D.T.—-.

JOHN DODSON TAYLOR, SR.

Posted February 23, 2012 by neatnik2009 in John Dodson Taylor Sr.--Poems, Love 1800s

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Her Reasons for Disliking Her Neighbor   Leave a comment

Above:  A Fashion Plate from 1888

I hate her for her waving hair,

Her form so plump, complexion fair;

Her disposition mild and sweet,

Her sparkling eyes and tiny feet.

Her rosy cheeks ignite my ire,

Her ruby lips my rage inspire.

I hate her for her costly dresses,

Her satins, rigs, and riffs, and laces;

I hate her for her finger rings,

Bracelets, ear-bobs, and such things;

In short, this is why rage is fired;

She is far more than I admired.

Such insults have been known by few,

And who wouldn’t hate?  Say, would not you?

JOHN DODSON TAYLOR, SR.

Posted February 19, 2012 by neatnik2009 in John Dodson Taylor Sr.--Poems

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I’m Nobody’s Johnny But Thine   Leave a comment

Above:  The Love Letter (1883), by Auguste Toulmouche

They’re a fountain of pleasure to me–

Thy smiles so sweetly benign–

And I’ll ever love thee, only thee,

Oh! I’m nobody’s Johnny but thine.

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And in rapture I ever could gaze

On thy features so nearly divine,

And they weakness e’en beauty displays

Oh! I’m nobody’s Johnny but thine.

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E’en if joy could have been in my cup

And had riches and honors been mine,

For thy sake I’d surrender them up,

Oh! I’m nobody’s Johnny but thine.

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Let the world go crazed about gain,

Seeking fame at ambition’s low shrine,

In thy love I’ll contented remain,

Oh! I’m nobody’s Johnny but thine.

JOHN DODSON TAYLOR, SR.

Posted February 14, 2012 by neatnik2009 in John Dodson Taylor Sr.--Poems, Love 1800s

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My Mother   1 comment

Above:  Portrait of Madame Paul Poirson (1885), by John Singer Sargent

Tenderest ties ‘twixt human kind

Woven not by hand of art,

Are that like a cable bind

Child unto a mother’s heart.

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All the dross of selfishness

Smelted by some unknown fires–

Such the love that wakes her breast,

And with her alone expires.

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Friendship’s nearest ties may sever,

Love can, often does, grow cold,

But a mother’s love can never

Taste of langour, or grow old.

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Tho’ by all I am forsaken,

Scorned by sister and by brother,

Warmer love will but awaken

In one heart–that of my Mother.

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Others’ love is often blighted

By unthoughted words or deeds,

But hers strengthens when ’tis slighted;

Her heart’s truest when it bleeds.

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All mankind may yet disown,

Prove e’en falser than another,

But when all have hardened grown,

One will love me still–my Mother. 

JOHN DODSON TAYLOR, SR. 

Posted February 14, 2012 by neatnik2009 in John Dodson Taylor Sr.--Poems

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A Paraphrase On Eleven Verses of the Twenty-Second Psalm   2 comments

Above:  Psalm 22

My God, my God, why pass me by,

And leave unheard my ardent prayer?

By day I lift my ceaseless cry,

And wailings cleave the midnight air.

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O! Lord, Thou high and holy One,

Whom Israel honors, loves, and blesses,

Our fathers oft to Thee have gone,

And found Thine aid in their distresses.

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They cried and Thou didst not forbear,

But lent Thine all-protecting arm;

They sought and Thou didst hear their prayer,

And shielded them from every harm.

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I am a worm despised of men,

The wicked scorn and mock at me;

“Upon the Lord he did depend,

Let him there seek delivery.”

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O! Lord, in childhood’s helpless hour,

I found Thy kindness full and free;

Be near me still in love and power,

For help can come alone from Thee.

JOHN DODSON TAYLOR, SR.

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http://gatheredprayers.wordpress.com/2012/02/04/a-paraphrase-on-eleven-verses-of-the-twenty-second-psalm/

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Posted February 4, 2012 by neatnik2009 in John Dodson Taylor Sr.--Poems, Psalms

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