Verse > Anthologies > William Stanley Braithwaite, ed. > The Book of Georgian Verse
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William Stanley Braithwaite, ed.  The Book of Georgian Verse.  1909.
 
In My Own Album
By Charles Lamb (1775–1834)
 
FRESH clad from heaven in robes of white,
A young probationer of light,
Thou wert my soul, an Album bright,—
 
A spotless leaf; but thought, and care,
And friend and foe, in foul or fair,        5
Have ‘written strange defeatures’ there;
 
And Time with heaviest hand of all,
Like that fierce writing on the wall,
Hath stamp’d sad dates—he can’t recall;
 
And error gilding worst designs—        10
Like speckled snake that strays and shines—
Betrays his path by crooked lines;
 
And vice hath left his ugly blot:
And good resolves, a moment hot,
Fairly began—but finish’d not;        15
 
And fruitless, late remorse doth trace—
Like Hebrew lore, a backward pace—
Her irrecoverable race.
 
Disjointed numbers; sense unknit;
Huge reams of folly, shreds of wit;        20
Compose the mingled mass of it.
 
My scalded eyes no longer brook
Upon this ink-blurred thing to look—
Go, shut the leaves, and clasp the book.
 
 
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