Richard Edwin Day

  • To Shakespeare

    Thou, who didst lay all other bosoms bare,
    Impenetrable shade didst round thee throw;
    And of the ready tears thou makest flow,
    Monarch of tears, thou hast not any share.
    Sad Petrarch, sadder Byron their despair
    Unlocked, their dismal theatres of woe...

  • England

    Thou art as a lone watcher on a rock,
    With Saxon hair back floating in the wind,
    Gazing where stranger ships, to doom consigned,
    Upon the sullen ledges grind and knock.
    Fair were the barks round which the breakers flock,
    Rich freights had they of treasure...