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The Poetical Works of Oliver Wendell Holmes — Volume 11
Poems from the Teacups Series
The Poetical Works of Oliver Wendell Holmes — Volume 11
Poems from the Teacups Series
The Poetical Works of Oliver Wendell Holmes — Volume 11
Poems from the Teacups Series
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The Poetical Works of Oliver Wendell Holmes — Volume 11 Poems from the Teacups Series

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Release dateNov 26, 2013
The Poetical Works of Oliver Wendell Holmes — Volume 11
Poems from the Teacups Series
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Oliver Wendell Holmes

Oliver Wendell Holmes was an American physician, poet, and polymath based in Boston. A member of the Fireside Poets, he was acclaimed by his peers as one of the best writers of the day. His most famous prose works are the “Breakfast Table” series, which began with The Autocrat of the Breakfast Table.

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    The Poetical Works of Oliver Wendell Holmes — Volume 11 Poems from the Teacups Series - Oliver Wendell Holmes

    The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Poetical Works of Oliver Wendell Holmes, Vol. 11, by Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr.

    This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net

    Title: The Poetical Works of Oliver Wendell Holmes, Vol. 11 Poems From Over The Teacups

    Author: Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr.

    Release Date: September 30, 2004 [EBook #7398]

    Language: English

    *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POETRY OF HOLMES, VOL. 11 ***

    Produced by David Widger

    THE POETICAL WORKS

    OF

    OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES

    [Volume 3 of the 1893 three volume set]

    POEMS FROM OVER THE TEACUPS

    POEMS FROM OVER THE TEACUPS. TO THE ELEVEN LADIES WHO PRESENTED ME WITH A SILVER LOVING CUP THE PEAU DE CHAGRIN OF STATE STREET CACOETHES SCRIBENDI THE ROSE AND THE FERN I LIKE YOU AND I LOVE YOU LA MAISON D'OR BAR HARBOR TOO YOUNG FOR LOVE THE BROOMSTICK TRAIN; OR, THE RETURN OF THE WITCHES TARTARUS AT THE TURN OF THE ROAD INVITA MINERVA

    READINGS OVER THE TEACUPS TO MY OLD READERS THE BANKER'S SECRET THE EXILE'S SECRET THE LOVER'S SECRET THE STATESMAN'S SECRET THE MOTHER'S SECRET THE SECRET OF THE STARS

    TO THE ELEVEN LADIES

    WHO PRESENTED ME WITH A SILVER LOVING CUP ON THE TWENTY-NINTH OF AUGUST, M DCCC LXXXIX

    WHO gave this cup? The secret thou wouldst steal

    Its brimming flood forbids it to reveal:

    No mortal's eye shall read it till he first

    Cool the red throat of thirst.

    If on the golden floor one draught remain,

    Trust me, thy careful search will be in vain;

    Not till the bowl is emptied shalt thou know

    The names enrolled below.

    Deeper than Truth lies buried in her well

    Those modest names the graven letters spell

    Hide from the sight; but wait, and thou shalt see

    Who the good angels be.

    Whose bounty glistens in the beauteous gift

    That friendly hands to loving lips shall lift

    Turn the fair goblet when its floor is dry,—

    Their names shall meet thine eye.

    Count thou their number on the beads of Heaven

    Alas! the clustered Pleiads are but seven;

    Nay, the nine sister Muses are too few,—

    The Graces must add two.

    For whom this gift? For one who all too long

    Clings to his bough among the groves of song;

    Autumn's last leaf, that spreads its faded wing

    To greet a second spring.

    Dear friends, kind friends, whate'er the cup may hold,

    Bathing its burnished depths, will change to gold

    Its last bright drop let thirsty Maenads drain,

    Its fragrance will remain.

    Better love's perfume in the empty bowl

    Than wine's nepenthe for the aching soul;

    Sweeter than song that ever poet sung,

    It makes an old heart young!

    THE PEAU DE CHAGRIN OF STATE STREET

    How beauteous is the bond

    In the manifold array

    Of its promises to pay,

    While the eight per cent it gives

    And the rate at which one lives

    Correspond!

    But at last the bough is bare

    Where the coupons one by one

    Through their ripening days have run,

    And the bond, a beggar now,

    Seeks investment anyhow,

    Anywhere!

    CACOETHES SCRIBENDI

    IF all the trees in all the woods were men;

    And each and every blade of grass a pen;

    If every leaf on every shrub and tree

    Turned to a sheet of foolscap; every sea

    Were changed to ink, and all earth's living tribes

    Had nothing else to do but act as scribes,

    And for ten thousand ages, day and night,

    The human race should write, and write, and write,

    Till all the pens and paper were used up,

    And the huge inkstand was an empty cup,

    Still would the scribblers clustered round its brink

    Call for more pens, more paper, and more ink.

    THE ROSE AND THE FERN

    LADY, life's sweetest lesson wouldst thou learn,

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