Quote

His friends he loved. His direst earthly foe - Cats-I believe he did but feign to hate. My hand will miss the insinuated nose, Mine eyes the tail that wagged contempt at Fate.

William Watson

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William Watson
Age: 77 †
Born: 1858
Born: August 2
Died: 1935
Died: August 11
Poet
Writer
Newark
Nottinghamshire
Sir William Watson
Believe
Loss
Contempt
Foe
Loved
Cat
Tail
Hand
Miss
Earthly
Eyes
Dog
Tails
Friends
Mines
Grieving
Eye
Mine
Cats
Hate
Fate
Nose
Direst
Hands
Missing
Noses
Feign

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God, eldest of Poets.
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April, April Laugh thy girlish laughter Then, the moment after, Weep thy girlish tears.
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The thirst to know and understand a large and liberal discontent.
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And though circuitous and obscureThe feet of Nemesis how sure!
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Personally, I do not believe that we shall have greater armaments in the future than we have had in the past. On the contrary, I believe there will be a gradual diminution in this respect.
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Best they honor thee Who honor in thee only what is best.
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Too long, that some may rest, tired millions toil unblest.
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Fiat justitia et ruant coeli. Let justice be done, though the heavens may fall. See Ferdinand I 320:1.
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We hold our hate too choice a thing, for light and careless lavishing.
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O ye by wandering tempest sown 'Neath every alien star, Forget not whence the breath was blown That wafted you afar! For ye are still her ancient seed On younger soil let fall— Children of Britain's island-breed, To whom the Mother in her need Perchance may one day call.
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Threadbare his songs seem now, to lettered ken: They were worn threadbare next the hearts of men.
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The after-silence, when the feast is o'er,And void the places where the minstrels stood,Differs in nought from what hath been before,And is nor ill nor good.
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A dreamer of the common dreams, A fisher in familiar streams, He chased the transitory gleams That all pursue But on his lips the eternal themes Again were new.
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In this world with starry dome,Floored with gemlike plains and seas,Shall I never feel at home,Never wholly be at ease?
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Deemest thou laborOnly is earnest?Grave is all beauty,Solemn is joy.
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He saw wan Woman toil with famished eyes He saw her bound, and strove to sing her free. He saw her fall'n and wrote The Bridge of Sighs And on it crossed to immortality.
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Hate and mistrust are the children of blindness.
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Braying of arrogant brass, whimper of querulous reeds.
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Empires dissolve and peoples disappear, song passes not away.
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On from room to room I stray,Yet mine Host can ne'er espy,And I know not to this day,Whether guest or captive I.
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