SHAKESPERE.
Old Chaucer put his soul up at an inn; And Wordsworth loved a cottage, homely, small, Shelley a fairy palace gossamer thin, • Milton a citadel of massy wall. A rich pavilion held the soul of Keats, And Tennyson's a manor house might own Byron's the tower, rock perched, a strong sea beats; For Scott the border hold of rough grey stone. Parterres, trim lawns, Dutch palaces, Pope's home, And Gray's by churchyard walls a quiet cell; Coleridge would dream best 'lieath same magic dome, Collins in shadows of a twilight dell. But what can house our Shakespere's priceless worth? Eternal skies that roof the whole wide earth. —M. Bodkin, in Studies.
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/periodicals/NZT19190731.2.51
Bibliographic details
New Zealand Tablet, 31 July 1919, Page 28
Word Count
112SHAKESPERE. New Zealand Tablet, 31 July 1919, Page 28
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