'Archaisms' yclept are;
To me, though, gladsome door ajar
Through which some breeze of former times
Breathes other ardours, distant climes:
A scent I relish mostly; though
I bid Avaunt! to stench of woe
And cruelty - long past's ill norm -
Which recenter thought, and reform,
Have girt their thews to boldly banish
(Would that all such sins would vanish!)
Gentler mores soothe, caressing,
And tenderly bless, impressing
That we - twenty-first our century -
March but late in the adventury
After virtue and its fruits -
Inheriting old sages' boots.
So mannerly like these to speak
I think respectful and not weak -
Though insincereful affectation
Bode no cheerful delectation!
|
Threaded Mode
