Waverley
1814-1914 When, on a novel’s newly printed page We find a maudlin eulogy of sin, And read of ways that harlots wander in, And of sick souls that writhe in helpless rage; Or when Romance, bespectacled and sage, Taps on her desk and bids the class begin To con the problems that have always been Perplexed mankind’s unhappy heritage; Then in what robes of honor habited The laureled wizard of the North appears! Who raised Prince Charlie’s cohorts from the dead, Made Rose’s mirth and Flora’s noble tears, And formed that shining legion at whose head Rides Waverley, triumphant o’er the years!
Joyce Kilmer’s other poems:
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