قراءة كتاب Familiar Faces
تنويه: تعرض هنا نبذة من اول ١٠ صفحات فقط من الكتاب الالكتروني، لقراءة الكتاب كاملا اضغط على الزر “اشتر الآن"
اللغة: English
الصفحة رقم: 5
Out to sup.
Proudly he advances, trailing
Clouds of limelight from afar,
(Diffidence is not the failing
Of the true dramatic "star").
What cares he for rank or fashion,
Politics or place or pelf?
He whose one prevailing passion
Is himself?
Clouds of limelight from afar,
(Diffidence is not the failing
Of the true dramatic "star").
What cares he for rank or fashion,
Politics or place or pelf?
He whose one prevailing passion
Is himself?
All the world's a stage, we know it;
Managers, whose heads are twirled,
Think (to paraphrase the poet)
That the stage is all the world.
Other men discuss the summer,
Or the poor potato crop,
Nothing can prevent the mummer
Talking "shop."
Managers, whose heads are twirled,
Think (to paraphrase the poet)
That the stage is all the world.
Other men discuss the summer,
Or the poor potato crop,
Nothing can prevent the mummer
Talking "shop."
With his Art as the objective
Of his intellectual pow'rs,
He (as usual, introspective)
Talks about himself for hours.
While his friends, who never dream of
Interrupting, stand agog,
He decants a ceaseless stream of
Monologue.
Of his intellectual pow'rs,
He (as usual, introspective)
Talks about himself for hours.
While his friends, who never dream of
Interrupting, stand agog,
He decants a ceaseless stream of
Monologue.
He is great. He has become it
By a long and arduous climb
To the crest, the crown, the summit
Of the Thespian tree—a lime!
There he chatters like a starling,
There, like Jove, he sometimes nods;
But he still remains the "darling
Of the gods!"
By a long and arduous climb
To the crest, the crown, the summit
Of the Thespian tree—a lime!
There he chatters like a starling,
There, like Jove, he sometimes nods;
But he still remains the "darling
Of the gods!"
IV
THE GILDED YOUTH
A monocle he always wears,
Safe screwed within his dexter eye;
His mouth stands open wide, and snares
The too intrusive fly.
Were he to close his jaws, no doubt,
The eyeglass would at once fall out.
Safe screwed within his dexter eye;
His mouth stands open wide, and snares
The too intrusive fly.
Were he to close his jaws, no doubt,
The eyeglass would at once fall out.
His choice of clothes is truly weird;
His jacket, short, and negligée,
Is slit behind, as tho' he feared
A tail might sprout some day.
One's eye must be inured to shocks
To stand the tartan of his socks.
His jacket, short, and negligée,
Is slit behind, as tho' he feared
A tail might sprout some day.
One's eye must be inured to shocks
To stand the tartan of his socks.
The chessboard pattern of his check
Betrays its owner's florid taste;
A three-inch collar grips his neck,
A cummerbund his waist;
The trousers that his legs enshroud
Speak for themselves, they are so loud.
Betrays its owner's florid taste;
A three-inch collar grips his neck,
A cummerbund his waist;
The trousers that his legs enshroud
Speak for themselves, they are so loud.
His shirt, his sleeve-links and his stud,
Are all of a cerulean hue,
And advertise that Norman blood,—
The bluest of the blue,—
Which, as a brief inspection shows,
Seems to have centred in his nose.
Are all of a cerulean hue,
And advertise that Norman blood,—
The bluest of the blue,—
Which, as a brief inspection shows,
Seems to have centred in his nose.
His saffron tresses, oiled with care,
Back from a vacant brow he scrapes;
From so compact a head of hair
No filament escapes.
(This surface-polish, friends complain,
Does not descend into the brain.)
Back from a vacant brow he scrapes;
From so compact a head of hair
No filament escapes.
(This surface-polish, friends complain,
Does not descend into the brain.)
What does he do? You well may ask.
Nothing at all, to be exact!
Yet he performs this tedious task
With quite consummate tact.
(No cause for wonder this, in truth,
Since he has practised it from youth.)
Nothing at all, to be exact!
Yet he performs this tedious task
With quite consummate tact.
(No cause for wonder this, in truth,
Since he has practised it from youth.)
To some wide window-seat he goes,
And gazes out with torpid eyes;
Then yawns politely through his nose,
Looks at his watch, and sighs;
Regards his boots with dumb regret,
And lights another cigarette.
And gazes out with torpid eyes;
Then yawns politely through his nose,
Looks at his watch, and sighs;
Regards his boots with dumb regret,
And lights another cigarette.
Then glances through his morning's mail,
And now, his daily labours done,
Feels far too comatose and frail
To give the dog a run;
Besides, as he reflects with shame,
He can't recall the creature's name!
And now, his daily labours done,
Feels far too comatose and frail
To give the dog a run;
Besides, as he reflects with shame,
He can't recall the creature's name!
Safe in a front-row stall he sits,
Where lyric comedy is played;
And, after, to some local Ritz,
Escorts a chorus-maid.
The jeunesse dorée of to-day
Is called the jeunesse stage-doorée!
Where lyric comedy is played;
And, after, to some local Ritz,
Escorts a chorus-maid.
The jeunesse dorée of to-day
Is called the jeunesse stage-doorée!
How slow the weary days must seem
(That to his fellows fly so fast),
To one who in a waking-dream
Awaits the next repast!
How tiresome and how long they feel,
Those hours dividing meal from meal!
(That to his fellows fly so fast),
To one who in a waking-dream
Awaits the next repast!
How tiresome and how long they feel,
Those hours dividing meal from meal!
For, like Othello, he must find
His "occupation gone," poor soul,
Who can but wander in his mind
When he requires a stroll;
A mental sphere, one may surmise,
Too cramped for healthy exercise.
His "occupation gone," poor soul,
Who can but wander in his mind
When he requires a stroll;
A mental sphere, one may surmise,
Too cramped for healthy exercise.
But since a poet has declared
That "nothing walks with aimless feet,"
To ask why such a type is spared
To grace the public street,
Would be most curiously misplaced,
And in the very worst of taste.
That "nothing walks with aimless feet,"
To ask why such a type is spared
To grace the public street,
Would be most curiously misplaced,
And in the very worst of taste.
V
THE GOURMAND
(A Ballad of Reading Grill)
He did not wear his swallow-tail,
But a simple dinner-coat;
For once his spirits seemed to fail,
And his fund of anecdote.
His brow was drawn and damp and pale,
And a lump stood in his throat.
But a simple dinner-coat;
For once his spirits seemed to fail,
And his fund of anecdote.
His brow was drawn and damp and pale,
And a lump stood in his throat.
I never saw a person