Richard Garnett Poems

Poems » richard garnett

Richard Garnett
Richard Garnett (February 27, 1835 April 13, 1906) was a scholar, librarian, biographer and poet. He was son of Richard Garnett, an assistant keeper of Printed Books in the British Museum. Born at Lichfield, and educated at a school in Bloomsbury, he entered the British Museum in 1851 as an assistant librarian. In 1875, he became superintendent of the Reading Room, in 1881, editor of the General Catalogue of Printed Books, and in 1890 until his retirement in 1899, Keeper of Printed Books. His literary works include numerous translations from the Greek, German, Italian, Spanish, and Portuguese; several books of verse; the book of short stories The Twilight of the Gods (1888, 16 stories; 12 stories added in the 1903 edition); biographies of Thomas Carlyle, John Milton, William Blake, and others; The Age of Dryden (1895); a History of Italian Literature; English Literature: An Illustrated Record (with Edmund Gosse); and many articles for encyclopaedias and the Dictionary of National Biography. He also discovered and edited some unpublished poems of Shelley (Relics of Shelley, 1862). His poem "Where Corals Lie" was set to music by Sir Edward Elgar as part of Sea Pictures and was first performed in 1899.

fifteen epitaphs i
 
 
I laid the strewings, darling, on thine urn;
I lowered the torch, I poured the cup to Dis.... [read poem]
even-star
 
 
First-born and final relic of the night,
I dwell aloof in dim immensity;
The grey sky spar... [read poem]
emily brontë
 
 
What sacramental hurt that brings
The terror of the truth of things
Had changed thee? Secr... [read poem]
firstlings
 
 
(January 7, 1915)

In the dregs of the year, all steam and rain,
In the timid... [read poem]
despotisms
 
 
I: THE MOTOR: 1905

From hedgerows where aromas fain would be
New volleyed odours... [read poem]
reserve
 
 
You that are dear, O you above the rest!
Forgive him his evasive moods and cold;
The absen... [read poem]
when on the marge of evening
 
 
When on the marge of evening the last blue light is broken,
And winds of dreamy odour are loose... [read poem]
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