Archive for the ‘John Dodson Taylor Sr.–Poems’ Category

Book Notice, 1883   Leave a comment

AC December 12, 1883, page 3 I

Above:  An Excerpt from The Atlanta Constitution, December 12, 1883, page 3

Obtained via newspapers.com

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My great-grandfather, John Dodson Taylor, Sr. (1860-1936), published a volume of poetry (most of the contents of which I have added to this weblog) in 1883.  The “Book Notices” column of the December 12, 1883, issue of The Atlanta Constitution included a mention of that volume.

AC December 12, 1883, page 3 II

KENNETH RANDOLPH TAYLOR

To Miss R—– (An Autograph)   Leave a comment

Above:  Woman with Parrot, by Pierre-Auguste Renoir

Upon this page, so fair, so white,

So like your character, I ween,

Permit one here his name to write,

Whose friendship’s firm tho’ brief ‘t has been.

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That sometimes when o’er it you bend,

Which–not like memory–changes not,

It haply may recall a friend

Who but for it would be forgot.

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And here a parting wish I’ll give,

‘Tis friendship’s, and no task is lighter,

The many virtues that you have

Remain unchanged–they can’t be brighter.

JOHN DODSON TAYLOR, SR.

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With this post I reach the end of my journey through my great-grandfather’s 1883 volume of poetry.

KENNETH RANDOLPH TAYLOR

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Posted October 26, 2012 by neatnik2009 in John Dodson Taylor Sr.--Poems

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To a Hair On Finding It On a Friend’s Coat Button   Leave a comment

Above:  Buttons

Image Source = Marco Bernardini

(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Three_holes_buttons.jpg)

What satisfaction to disguise,

And hide yourself from mine,

And wait till seen by curious eyes

To let your glories shine?

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If I did kiss her, and ‘t were harm,

What business yours to spout it?

If I did fold her in my arm,

Why tell the world about it?

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You saucy little villain you,

To practice such deceit,

If ’twas not for the place you grew,

I’d cuss at you a bit.

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How oft’ the traits of this small hair

The human kind display!

They’re friends till some good chance appear,

And then they will betray.

JOHN DODSON, TAYLOR, SR. 

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

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To A—– (An Autograph)   Leave a comment

Above:  An Hourglass

Image Source = User:S Sepp

(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Wooden_hourglass_3.jpg)

Oh! for some magic pen, some art,

My name indelibly to trace

Upon the tablets of thy heart,

Which time’s rude hand could not erase!

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Could album leaves keep memory bright,

And friendships from disaster free,

Then I would be content to write

Upon this page, “Remember me.”

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But these frail leaves, tho’ white and fair,

May perish with the names here written,

And if recorded only here,

Then mine, with all should be forgotten.

JOHN DODSON TAYLOR, SR.

Posted October 9, 2012 by neatnik2009 in John Dodson Taylor Sr.--Poems, Love 1800s

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To a Female Dude   Leave a comment

Above:  The Blue Lady, by Pierre-Auguste Renoir

You are pretty, Miss, I know,

Loved by many a silly beau,

But ‘t is not that sacred love

Kindred to the kind above.

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‘Tis a baser love’s keen darts

That have shot their chicken hears,

And have seized and hold the reins

O’er their watery, pigeon brains.

Could they only look within

At the soul so warped by sin,

At the heart by passion stormed,

Rent, distorted and deformed,

See the chaos ignorance wrought,

Where should be the realms of thought,

It would tame the wildest rove,

And turn sour such a love.

They would tell you otherwise,

Stamp what I say only lies.

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But you’ll find in season due,

Every word I say is true,

For the rose that blooms to-day,

On your cheek, shall fade away,

And for beauty, now so rare,

Ashy paleness shall be there;

Then those lips, in ruby dress,

That so many long to press,

Shall be shrunk–then I’ll not kiss ’em,

If there’s any chance to miss ’em.

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Then ‘ll your silly, giggling, grin

Show no pearly teeth within,

And the lustre then shall fly

From your sparkling, dancing eye,

Sunken in its socket deep,

Thence no spirit fair shall peep,

For were you of passion’s fire,

And your easy nestled ire,

Vanity and pride but reft,

There would be no spirit left.

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Many a trace of care’s rough plough

Shall be then upon your brow,

And your silly, giggling tones,

Be replaced with sighs and groans,

And that form does not inspire,

As it now does, warm desire.

Twisted, shrunken, stooped, and lean,

Whippoorwill-like, lank and keen,

With your little soul and mind,

By the coils of vice entwined;

It would make all love to shrivel,

For ‘twould nauseate old Scratch.

JOHN DODSON TAYLOR, SR.

Posted October 6, 2012 by neatnik2009 in John Dodson Taylor Sr.--Poems, Love 1800s

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Only From Heaven   Leave a comment

Above:  St. Elizabeth’s Episcopal Church, Dahlonega, Georgia, September 23, 2012

Image Source = Bill Monk, Episcopal Diocese of Atlanta

(https://plus.google.com/photos/114749828757741527421/albums/5791491660487967409/5791766629689426338?banner=pwa)

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If  thou ‘st corroding care,

If thou dost sorrows bear,

If thou in dark despair

Helpless art driven,

Come to thy Father’s throne,

Make there thy sorrows known,

Balm for thy woe there’s none,

Only from Heaven.

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Hast thy heart ever been

Bound by besetting sin,

And by temptations keen,

Is thy soul riven?

Come to a throne of grace,

Seek there thy Father’s face,

For there can come release

Only from Heaven.

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Or didst thy heart but prove

Hard when the Spirit strove

And has a Saviour’s love

Never been given?

Hasten then to depart,

Come only as thou art,

There is melting for thy heart,

Only from Heaven.

JOHN DODSON TAYLOR, SR.

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

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A Letter and The Reply   Leave a comment

In this post I present two poems by my great-grandfather; the first leads directly into the second.

KENNETH RANDOLPH TAYLOR

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A LETTER

Hear my warning, hear me, maiden,

For the heart to thee I swore

Is departing, swiftly, surely,

And will soon be thine no more.

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It now clings to thee but faintly,

Held there only by its vow;

Not impelled by some strange magic,

But it clings by effort now.

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I have seen another’s beauty,

Though not greater than thine own,

But like sleep ‘t has stolen on me,

Till my love for thee has flown.

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I am sorry for thee, maiden,

If thy love is true indeed;

And it fills my soul with anguish,

Thus to make thy pure heart bleed.

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All thy charms I still remember,

And I fan would love thee still;

But the heart is independent

Of the reason or the will.

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I would ask thee to forgive me,

But my prayer would useless be;

For the heart that would seek pardon,

Could not grant it unto thee.

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May’st thou find another lover

Worthy well the heart of thee;

And may it love him as truly

As tho’ it had ne’er loved me.

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Be thine arms to him as tender

As when round me they did twine;

And thy lips lose none their sweetness,

Tho’ they have been pressed to mine.

THE REPLY

All is over, we must sever,

Learn to hate shall be rule,

We have played our part together,

Thou the knave, and I the fool.

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May the curtain drop between,

‘Twixt us, to be lifted never,

And, oh! would that it could screen

Thee from mem’ry’s eye forever.

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Woman’s love is born of spirit,

Man’s is only passion’s child,

And she can not, like him, tear it

From the heart when once beguiled.

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But I’ll gladly set thee free

From thy vows, with all their ties,

But it is not given me

To forgive thee for thy lies.

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Seek forgiveness at His throne,

His whose witness thou didst call

When–my hand within thine own–

From thy lips the oath did fall.

JOHN DODSON TAYLOR, SR.

Posted September 21, 2012 by neatnik2009 in John Dodson Taylor Sr.--Poems, Love 1800s

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