The Innocents
Dublin Core
Title
The Innocents
Description
A jaunty, tidy, sober lot ye are,
My lordly innocents. A bumper to
Your health I drink. I would that skies deep blue
In friendship's light be ever thine, thy star
Of hope be Truth, thy fondest dreams no bar
To block thy way to fame. If winds that blew
Good cheer to thee in former days be true
In these, you need not dread life's pain and jar.
I do not doubt but what they will, for life
Is always free if men but seek its strength
And shun its gloom. He lives who but consents
To live: the dream of dread is of the strife
To flee the end. I wish you joy and length
Of days in plenty, lordly, princely innocents.
My lordly innocents. A bumper to
Your health I drink. I would that skies deep blue
In friendship's light be ever thine, thy star
Of hope be Truth, thy fondest dreams no bar
To block thy way to fame. If winds that blew
Good cheer to thee in former days be true
In these, you need not dread life's pain and jar.
I do not doubt but what they will, for life
Is always free if men but seek its strength
And shun its gloom. He lives who but consents
To live: the dream of dread is of the strife
To flee the end. I wish you joy and length
Of days in plenty, lordly, princely innocents.
Creator
W.H.A. Moore
Source
4:22, p. 2
Date
1891.02.21
Collection
Citation
W.H.A. Moore, “The Innocents,” Periodical Poets, accessed September 16, 2024, https://periodicalpoets.com/items/show/509.
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