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AT THE SIGN OF THE LYRE, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Master of the lyric inn
Last Line: "whispers low -- ""in after days."
Subject(s): Dobson, Austin (1840-1921)


MASTER of the lyric inn
Where the rarer sort so long
Drew the rein, to 'scape the din
Of the cymbal and the gong,
Topers of the classic bin, --
Oporto, sherris and tokay,
Muscatel, and beaujolais --
Conning some old Book of Airs,
Lolling in their Queen Anne chairs --
Catch or glee or madrigal,
Writ for viol or virginal;
Or from France some courtly tune,
Gavotte, ridotto, rigadoon;
(Watteau and the rising moon);
Ballade, rondeau, triolet,
Villanelle or virelay,
Wistful of a statelier day,
Gallant, delicate, desire:
Where the Sign swings of the Lyre,
Garlands droop above the door,
Thou, dear Master, art no more.

Lo! about thy portals throng
Sorrowing shapes that loved thy song:
Taste and Elegance are there,
The modish Muses of Mayfair,
Wit, Distinction, Form and Style,
Humour, too, with tear and smile.

Fashion sends her butterflies --
Pretty laces to their eyes,
Ladies from St. James's there
Step out from the sedan chair;
Wigged and scented dandies too
Tristely wear their sprigs of rue;
Country squires are in the crowd,
And little Phyllida sobs aloud.

Then stately shades I seem to see,
Master, to companion thee;
Horace and Fielding here are come
To bid thee to Elysium.
Last comes one all golden: Fame
Calls thee, Master, by thy name,
On thy brow the laurel lays,
Whispers low -- "In After Days."





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