1. English
  2. Frederick Locker-Lampson
To My Grandmother

Suggested by a Picture by Mr. Romney

THIS relative of mine,
Was she seventy-and-nine
  When she died?
By the canvas may be seen
How she looked at seventeen,
  As a bride.

Beneath a summer tree,
Her maiden reverie
  Has a...

Poet: Frederick Locker-Lampson
The Widow’s Mite

A WIDOW—she had only one!
A puny and decrepit son;
  But, day and night,
Though fretful oft, and weak and small,
A loving child, he was her all—
  The Widow’s Mite.

The Widow’s Mite—ay, so sustained,
She battled onward, nor complained,...

Poet: Frederick Locker-Lampson
The Jester’s Plea

   [Published in a volume by several authors for the benefit of the starving weavers of Lancashire during the American civil war.]

THE WORLD! Was jester ever in
  A viler than the present?
Yet if it ugly be—as sin,
  It almost is—as pleasant!
It is a merry...

Poet: Frederick Locker-Lampson
On an Old Muff

Time has a magic wand!
What is this meets my hand,
Moth-eaten, mouldy, and
    Covered with fluff,
Faded and stiff and scant?
Can it be? no, it can’t,—
Yes,—I declare ’t is Aunt
    Prudence’s Muff!

Years ago—twenty-three!...

Poet: Frederick Locker-Lampson