She is not old, she is not young, The Woman with the Serpent's Tongue. The haggard cheek, the hungering eye, The poisoned words that wildly fly, The famished face, the fevered hand, Who slights the worthiest in the land, Sneers at the just, contemns the brave, And blackens goodness in its grave.
William WatsonOn from room to room I stray,Yet mine Host can ne'er espy,And I know not to this day,Whether guest or captive I.
William WatsonLord of the golden tongue and smiting eyes; Great out of season and untimely wise: A man whose virtue, genius, grandeur, worth, Wrought deadlier ill than ages can undo.
William WatsonThreadbare his songs seem now, to lettered ken: They were worn threadbare next the hearts of men.
William WatsonThe after-silence, when the feast is o'er,And void the places where the minstrels stood,Differs in nought from what hath been before,And is nor ill nor good.
William WatsonHis friends he loved. His direst earthly foe - Cats-I believe he did but feign to hate. My hand will miss the insinuated nose, Mine eyes the tail that wagged contempt at Fate.
William WatsonA dreamer of the common dreams, A fisher in familiar streams, He chased the transitory gleams That all pursue; But on his lips the eternal themes Again were new.
William WatsonIn this world with starry dome,Floored with gemlike plains and seas,Shall I never feel at home,Never wholly be at ease?
William WatsonHe saw wan Woman toil with famished eyes; He saw her bound, and strove to sing her free. He saw her fall'n; and wrote "The Bridge of Sighs"; And on it crossed to immortality.
William WatsonFiat justitia et ruant coeli. Let justice be done, though the heavens may fall. See Ferdinand I 320:1.
William Watson