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The State Secret Post by :stevefranks Category :Poems Author :Thomas Gent Date :September 2011 Read :1650

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The State Secret


"Murder will out:"--and so will truth sometimes;
For once I'll prove it in a dozen lines.--

At one of those parties where Julia's sweet face
Added interest to beauty, and archness to grace,
Where many fine folks met; and one very great,
Proud and stupid, an embryo minister sate;
Like a damper he came to put good humour out,
And it chanced that, as Julia's pet-bird flew about.
It presumptuously 'lit on this mighty man's head;
When her lore-laughing sister, sweet Eleanor, said,
"Naughty bird! I must cage you for being so rude,
On Lord------head, oh! how dare you intrude?"
"Let it rest," replied Julia, with an exquisite grace,
"Don't frighten it off--for it likes a soft place!"

(The end)
Thomas Gent's poem: State Secret

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The Morning Call The Morning Call

The Morning Call
TO THE HONOURABLE LADY--------.Written and left on her Table during her absence--Bathing.I dare not look at those dear eyes, The sun was never half so bright,There surely more of rapture lies Than ever bless'd a mortal's sight.In thy sweet face I see impress'd Ten thousand thousand charms divine,The sunbeams of thy guileless breast Like Heaven's eternal mercies shine!Angel of love! life's endless joy, Our hope at morn, our evening prayer;The bliss above would have alloy, Unless dear--------- thou wert there!Oh! Woman--what a charm hast thou Our rebel nature thus to tame:We ever must adore

To Robert Southey, Esq On Reading His 'remains Of Henry Kirke White' To Robert Southey, Esq On Reading His "remains Of Henry Kirke White"

To Robert Southey, Esq On Reading His 'remains Of Henry Kirke White'
Southey! high placed on the contested throneOf modern verse, a Muse, herself unknown,Sues that her tears may consecrate the strainsPour'd o'er the urn enrich'd with WHITE'S Remains!While touch'd to transport, Taste's responding toneMakes the rapt poet's ecstasies thine own;Ah! think that he, whose hand supremely skill'd,The heart's fine chords with deep vibration thrill'd,In stagnant silence and petrific gloom,Unconscious sleeps, the tenant of the tomb!Extinct that spirit, whose strong-bidding drewFrom Fancy's confines Wonder's wild-eyed crew,Which bade Despair's terrific phantoms passLike Macbeth's monarchs in the mystic glass.Before the youthful bard's impassion'd eye,Like him, led on, to triumph and to die;Like him, by mighty