I lived from 1858-1935.
I was from Great Britain, and am in the English category.
I was influenced by poets John Keats, Alfred Lord Tennyson.
Sir William Watson (1858 – August 11, 1935), was an English poet, popular in his time for the political content of his verse. He was born at Burley, Wharfedale in Yorkshire.
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He was very much on the traditionalist wing of English poetry. He was a prolific poet of the 1890s, and a contributor to The Yellow Book, without 'decadent' associations. He was also a defender of Alfred, Lord Tennyson, as he dropped out of fashion.
Works
The Prince's Quest and Other Poems (1880)
Epigrams of Art, Life and Nature (1884)
Wordsworth’s Grave and Other Poems (1890)
Poems (1892)
Lachrymae Musarum (1892)
Lyric Love: An Anthology (1892)
Eloping Angels : A Caprice (1893)
The Poems of William Watson (1893)
Excursions in Criticism: Being Some Prose Recreations Of A Rhymer (1893)
Odes and Other Poems (1894)
The Father of the Forest & Other Poems (1895)
The Purple East: A Series Of Sonnets On England's Desertion of Armenia (1896)
The Year of Shame (1897)
The Hope of the World and Other Poems (1898)
The Collected Poems of William Watson (1899)
New Poems (1902)
Ode on the Coronation of King Edward VII (1902)
Glimpses O’ Auld Lang Syne (1903)
Selected Poems (1903)
For England. Poems Written During Estrangement (1904)
Poems on Public Affairs
New Poems (1909)
Sable and Purple (1910)
The Heralds of the Dawn: A Play in Eight Scenes (1912)
The Muse in Exile (1913)
Pencraft. A Plea For The Older Ways (1916)
The Man Who Saw: and Other Poems Arising out of the War (1917)
Retrogression and Other Poems (1917)
* The Superhuman Antagonists and Other Poems (1919)
Popular poetry
I made a little song about the rose
And sang it for the rose to hear,
20 lines, 1 comment
I know not if they erred
Who thought to see
12 lines
I saunter all about the pleasant place
You made thrice pleasant, O my friends, to me;
14 lines
Under the dark and piny steep
We watched the storm crash by:
8 lines
SHE stands, a thousand-wintered tree,
By countless morns impearled;
19 lines
APRIL, April,
Laugh thy girlish laughter;
12 lines, 1 comment
As one whose eyes have watched the stricken day
Swoon to its crimson death adown the sea,
14 lines
And these—are these indeed the end,
This grinning skull, this heavy loam?
8 lines
Westward a league the city lay, with one
Cloud's imminent umbrage o'er it: when behold,
26 lines
Thy voice from inmost dreamland calls;
The wastes of sleep thou makest fair;
8 lines
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