Uncollected early poems from India

1882 | 1883 | 1884 | 1885 | 1886 | 1887 | 1888 | 1889
Title First line Notes
Les Amours de Voyage When the decks were very silent
A Morning Ride In the hush of the cool dim dawn, when the shades begin to retreat
Out of Sight Out of thy sight, away from thy lips’ smiling
As far as the East is set from the West As far as the East is set from the West
The Pious Sub’s Creed I do believe in Afghan Wars
Saint Valentine His Day Shall I sing you a festive and flippant lay ?
A New Departure He had said, in a Viceregal homily
With a Locket What can I send to a sweet little sister
Duet from the Pinafore Kind public, I’ve important information
From the Hills Skin may be scorching and brain may be batter
Dear Auntie, your parboiled nephew reclines with his feet on a chair Dear Auntie, your parboiled nephew reclines with his feet on a chair
The Song of an outsider E’en now the heron treads the wet
Divided allegiance My love is beautiful as day—
In Memoriam July-August 1883 If I have held my peace so long
The Song of the Exiles That long white Barrack by the sea
Preadmonisheth Ye Ghoste of Desmarets In the Paris of the Empire, in the days of long ago
A Cousin’s Christmas Card As coming from an Eastern Land
A Ballad of Bitterness How shall he sing of Christmas fun
At the end of a year This is the end of a Year
A Beleaguered City The Stranger and the Resident
Au Revoir What Song shall we sing to the Swallow
Max Desmarets, His Valentine How shall a ghost from the Pere-la -Chaise
The Ornamental Beasts Our drains may reek—we do not care—
The May Voyage Mariners we
Fair Mistress, to my lasting Sorrow Fair Mistress, to my lasting sorrow,
Music for the Middle-Aged Come under the Punkah, Maud,
A Weed, One Weed, and Only One Had I A Weed, One Weed, and Only One Had I
Epigraph to Echoes by Two Writers THE DUKE. A new song, sirrah?
To Mrs Tavenor Perry Who is the Public I write for ?
To Edith Macdonald Though the ‘Englishman’ deride it
To Flo Garrard I wrote you verses two years syne
To Evelyn Welford The memory of a maiden’s sympathy
To the Ladies of Warwick Gardens To our first critics send we these
To Margaret Burne-Jones The Wop of Asia—that lordly Beast—
To the Common-room Placetne Domini—in far Lahore—
To A.M. Between the gum-pot and the shears
Lord Ripon’s Reverie I shall leave it in a little—leave it ere my term has run.
The Story of Tommy This is the story of Tommy, aged twenty and drunk in his cot;
The Descent of the Punkah Yes, lay the jharun coats aside
Laid Low He wandered by the L-wr-nce H-ll
Over the Khud That’s where he fell
Dekho! Look Here! Dekho! Look Here!
On a Recent Memorial Verbum Sap.—Oh wise Bengalis, it is very sad to find
L-d D-ff-r-n’s Clôture Oh, drop your notes, the Viceroy said
As One Who Throws Earth’s Gold Away in Scorn As One Who Throws Earth’s Gold Away in Scorn
After the Fever, or Natural Theology in a Doolie Let us begin, and carry up this corpse
The Vision of Hamid Ali This came to him by night—theganja burnt
The Tale of Two Suits There are the ballads, tender and meek
A Tale of Yesterday’s Ten Thousand Years Oh! Come along ye tuneful ‘spins’, Melpomene & Co.,
A Lost Leader George Samuel, Marquis of Ripon, is sadly in need of a chit
Revenge – A Ballad of the Fleeter Two lovers to one maid. Aye! It was so
An Indignant Protest The journalists of Southern Ind
The Legend of the Pill One final—Oh my Muse, Mendacity!
Trial by Judge I am convinced my merits rare
The Indian Delegates Delegates we from over the sea
Exchange I am a man of culture small
At the Distance Can she stay ? Here’s the chestnut behind us—
A Tragedy of Teeth Lucrecia Semparee Riddens McWhone
The Compliments of the Season He came in the winter midnight—
The Quid Pro Quo He was aware—Oh great and good
A Missing Word The bold buccaneer who had scuttled too soon
Parturiunt Montes We are going to retrench!
Fair Play The jharan-coated subalterns
A Parallel A has a wife who loves him much
Distress in the Himalayas There’s wailing on the Camel’s Back
Stationary Required, a hint for a summer’s excursion
Of Birthdays For us Life’s wheel runs backward. Other nests
Cupid’s Department Perched above the Simla Ridge, as the clocks were warning ten
King Solomon’s Horses The black Egyptian coursers of the sands
A Logical Extension A horse? My charger’s back is galled
The Song of the Dancer What, eternal condemnation for each innocent gyration
Further Information And don’t they really kiss you? No!
On a Recent Appointment Oh, know ye not the rocket’s flight
At the Bar Help for a Councillor distressed—a spotless spirit hurt
The Vindication of Grant Duff The man who digs himself a tomb
Ichabod Get a nervous lady’s pony—get the oldest you can find—
Two Limericks on the Madras Scandals There was an old man in a doolie
Alnaschar So runs the telegram, Prepare
A Nightmare of Names It was a wearied journalist who sough his little bed
The Faithful Soul In the nethermost silo of Sheol, where lawyers and editors fry
With a Fan to the Mother This is a fan for my mother
With a Study Chair to the Pater Tell me where is Fancie bred
Ye Printer’s Devil, verie wyse Ye Printer’s Devil, verie wyse
New Year Resolutions I am resolved—throughout the year
Personal Responsibilities Nay, not ‘mechanical’ my Lord—
By Honours I dare not take my walks abroad, my friends I dare not see
The Love that Died Look! It was no fault of mine. Read a story plainly writ
A Budget Estimate Don’t knight him yet! He read it through
Diana of Ephesus Ephesus stands—you may find it still—
In the case of Rukhmibhaio Gentlemen reformers, with an English Education—
In the Matter of a Prologue For past performances methinks ’twere fit
Quantities of ’em Oh! Do you know the Muses nine
Taking a Hint Come let us slate the magistrate
A Prologue So please you, gentlefolk, a drama slight
Concerning a Jawab By all the mighty oaths that love can frame
The Witching of Teddy O’Neal Teddy O’Neal went up the hill
Itu and his God Itu, who led the Oash Gul to war
The Night of Power In the Beginning, when the earth was new
Struck Ile W—stl—nd the bank-note man
Between the gum pot and the shears Between the gum pot and the shears
The Vanishing Figure Helen Mountfaucon, née Snape
The ‘Kingdom’ of Bombay Who are they that bluff and blow among the mud-banks of their harbour ?
Bombaystes Furioso Oh! What will your Majesty please to wear—
Liberavi Animam Meam My name is Tommy Dodd
New Songs and Old The cuc–cus–tattie’s soothin’
To the Address of W.W.H Oh Hunter, and Oh blower of the horn
The Letter of Halim the Potter Halim the Potter, from the rainy hills—
Virginibus Puerisque Who shall restore us the leaves
A Job Lot They really were most merciful
Hans Breitmann as an Administrator Hans Breitmann vent to India—
The Supplication of Kerr Cross, Missionary Father of Mercy, who has made
The Way Av Ut I met wid ould Mulvaney an’ he tuk me by the hand
To Save Trouble True Patriots, let us now begin
A Song of Addresses We represent the Ward of Bow Bazar!
To These People Peace upon Earth to people of good will
The Ballad of Ahmed Shah This is the Ballad of Ahmed Shah
Imperious Wool-booted Sage Imperious Wool-booted Sage
The Law of Libel To the state of Kot-Kumharsen where the wild dacoits abound
1889—to March 3rd, leaving India
The Question of Givens Sir, with the scalpel and delicate knives
I thank you, Mrs Colvin I thank you, Mrs Colvin
Inscription in Copy of In Black and White presented to Mrs Hill To Mrs ”ll at Belvidere
Inscription in Copy of Wee Willie Winkie presented to Mrs Hill I cannot write, I cannot think
The Irish Conspiracy I went to ould Mulvaney wid the Friday’s Pioneer
A Ballade of Photographs Behold, O Fortune-favoured one
Verses on the Charleville Hotel, Mussoorie A burning sun in cloudless skies
1889—after March 3rd, on the journey home
The Owl Men said, but here I know they lied
Verses on fruit plates Children of ye Garden We
Caroline Taylor Caroline Taylor for conscience said
A Ballade of Indian Tea I wander East, I wander West
In the City of Berlin There were passengers thirty and three
Verses from letter to Andrew Lang I reside at Table Mountain and my name is Truthful James
Verse Fragments and Limericks She wandered round the blessed world
There once were four people at Euchre There once were four people at Euchre
Verse letter to Sidney Low There is gold in the News they call Daily