1. 1800
  2. William Watson
From “Wordsworth’s Grave”

Poet who sleepest by this wandering wave!
  When thou wast born, what birth-gift hadst thou then?
To thee what wealth was that the Immortals gave,
  The wealth thou gavest in thy turn to men?

Not Milton’s keen, translunar music thine;
  Not Shakespeare’s...

Poet: William Watson
Lachrymæ Musarum

(6th October, 1892)
LOW, like another’s, lies the laurelled head:
The life that seemed a perfect song is o’er:
Carry the last great bard to his last bed.
Land that he loved, thy noblest voice is mute.
Land that he loved, that loved him! nevermore
...

Poet: William Watson
The Turk in Armenia

From “The Purple East”
WHAT profits it, O England, to prevail
  In camp and mart and council, and bestrew
  With argosies thy oceans, and renew
With tribute levied on each golden gale
Thy treasuries, if thou canst hear the wail
  Of women martyred...

Poet: William Watson
England and Her Colonies

She stands, a thousand-wintered tree,
  By countless morns impearled;
Her broad roots coil beneath the sea,
  Her branches sweep the world;
Her seeds, by careless winds conveyed,
  Clothe the remotest strand
With forests from her scatterings made,...

Poet: William Watson