Welcome to Poetry.com

Poetry.com is a huge collection of poems from famous and amateur poets from around the world — collaboratively published by a community of authors and contributing editors.

Navigate through our poetry database by subjects, alphabetically or simply search by keywords. You can submit a new poem, discuss and rate existing work, listen to poems using voice pronunciation and even translate pieces to many common and not-so-common languages.

A Bush Study, A La Watteau

Arthur Patchett Martin 1851 (Woolwich, Kent) – 1902 (Tenerife)

HE.
See the smoke-wreaths how they curl so lightly skyward
From the ivied cottage nestled in the trees:
Such a lovely spot—I really feel that I would
Be happy there with children on my knees.

SHE.
No, you wouldn’t. These are merely idle fancies
Of a gentleman much given to day-dreams.
These chimneys always smoke, and, then the chance is
You would have a scolding wife and babe that screams.

HE.
Ah! but look! just there, above that lowly cottage,
Birds are flitting in the sunlight clear and pure;
And the three-score years and ten—man’s poor allottage—
Might be passed away with pleasure there, I’m sure.

SHE.
Now, pray listen, oh, vain wanderer from the city,
And look bravely up and meet my searching eyes:
Would you give up all your town life, bright and witty,
Just because the cottage smoke curls to the skies?

HE.
I regret to find you’re one of those young ladies—
Pet productions of this artificial age:
Rural solitude to you is simply Hades,
And your paradise the ballroom or the stage.

SHE.
Yes, forsooth! and why? Because, my airy dreamer,
I can use my eyes as well as gaily dance—
See the Husband, Wife, the Lover, Dupe and Schemer,
All whirling past and weaving a romance.

HE.
You think, then, Miss, such dreadful social questions
Are like cards, designed to pass away the time;
Do you not perceive that all these pseudo-Christians
Are but moths that flutter round the candle Crime?

SHE.
At the play, too, where I oft with dear mamma go,
There’s the drama being acted in the boards;
And Othello, Desdemona, and Iago
In the boxes, p’raps, without the paint and swords.

HE.
Well, that may be, but the life of show and fashion
You so prize above the simple joys around,
Is all false; more noble manhood and true passion
In the daily lives of rustics may be found.

SHE.
Think you then that those who dwell in rural places
Are quite free from every evil thought and deed?
Pray speak unto the swain who hither paces
With slow steps, as though in pain, across the mead.

HE.
If you will not sneer, I’ll ask him for his story;
But expect not that his daily life shall be
Full of famous deeds; he careth not for glory,
But lived by honest labour, pure and free.

SHE.
Speak on; speak! and let me hear this modern idyll
From the lips of yonder heavy-footed swain;—
By-the-bye, his wild, erratic sort of sidle
Seems to indicate that he the bowl doth drain.

HE.
Hush—he’ll overhear….O tell me, gentle cottar,
Dwellest thou here remote from carking care and strife?

SUNDOWNER.
What’s that to you? Are you a bloated squatter?
Better clear, old man [hic] ’companied by your wife.

HE.
Thou mistakest me, thou toil-worn man and humble;
I own no lands where graze the peaceful sheep.
Thou art stirred with deep emotion, and dost mumble—
Speak up bravely, brother man, and do not weep.

SUNDOWNER.
Hot to-day, guv’nor; let’s go and have a liquor;
Lady take anything?—Bless you I can pay—
Haven’t had one yet, and nothing makes me sicker
Than abstaining altogether such a day.

Sings
Shearing sheep is dry work,
Kissing girls is sly work;
But drinking deep is my work;
So, let’s drink, boys, drink!

HE.
Come, Mabel, come. He is worse than Turk or Bulgar,
And his presence doth the very air pollute.

SHE.
Well, I must confess he is a trifle vulgar;
But what you say now, my dreamer?

HE.
I am mute.

Rate this poem:(0.00 / 0 votes)
Font size:
Collection  Edit     
 

Submitted on May 13, 2011

2:59 min read
112 Views

Arthur Patchett Martin

Arthur Patchett Martin, was an Australian writer and literary critic. Martin was born in Woolwich, Kent, England, the son of George Martin and his wife Eleanor, née Hill. The family migrated to Australia in 1852, arriving in Melbourne that Christmas. Martin was educated at St Mark's School, Fitzroy and later matriculated at the University of Melbourne in February 1868. Martin worked in the post office from 1865 to 1883; however he was also a casual writer in this period. Having established the Melbourne Review with Henry Gyles Turner in 1876, Martin edited the publication for six years. Martin was a member of the Eclectic Association, fellow members included Theodore Fink, Arthur Topp, Alfred Deakin and David Mickle. In 1883 Martin moved to London amid controversy in a divorce case; he became a journalist and wrote regularly for the Pall Mall Gazette. Martin was the satirist of the 'Australasian Group' - who regarded themselves as exiles - but retained an interest in Australian literature and other affairs. One of Martin's most solid achievements was the publication of a work entitled "Australia and the Empire", specially dedicated to the First Lord of the Treasury, Mr. Balfour. The opening essay in this work, entitled "Robert Lowe in Sydney," formed the nucleus of the undertaking on which Martin later worked on—the complete political biography of Lord Sherbrooke. Among other literary efforts in London may be mentioned "Oak-bough and Wattle-blossom," the first of those collective stories by "Australians in England" of which there are now quite a series. "Over-the-Sea Stories for the Children of Two Worlds" a profusely illustrated gift-book, is also a collection by Martin. Martin married a widow, Harriette Anne Bullen (daughter of Dr John Moore Cookesley) on 11 January 1886 in London. Together they wrote verse and organised the publications of expatriate Australians in various periodicals. Martin's health deteriorated and he moved to Tenerife, Canary Islands where he died on 15 February 1902. A sister, Letitia Hill Martin, who was also an accomplished writer, married the theatrical impresario Arthur Garner. more…

All Arthur Patchett Martin poems | Arthur Patchett Martin Books

FAVORITE (0 fans)

Discuss this Arthur Patchett Martin poem with the community:

0 Comments

    Translation

    Find a translation for this poem in other languages:

    Select another language:

    • - Select -
    • 简体中文 (Chinese - Simplified)
    • 繁體中文 (Chinese - Traditional)
    • Español (Spanish)
    • Esperanto (Esperanto)
    • 日本語 (Japanese)
    • Português (Portuguese)
    • Deutsch (German)
    • العربية (Arabic)
    • Français (French)
    • Русский (Russian)
    • ಕನ್ನಡ (Kannada)
    • 한국어 (Korean)
    • עברית (Hebrew)
    • Gaeilge (Irish)
    • Українська (Ukrainian)
    • اردو (Urdu)
    • Magyar (Hungarian)
    • मानक हिन्दी (Hindi)
    • Indonesia (Indonesian)
    • Italiano (Italian)
    • தமிழ் (Tamil)
    • Türkçe (Turkish)
    • తెలుగు (Telugu)
    • ภาษาไทย (Thai)
    • Tiếng Việt (Vietnamese)
    • Čeština (Czech)
    • Polski (Polish)
    • Bahasa Indonesia (Indonesian)
    • Românește (Romanian)
    • Nederlands (Dutch)
    • Ελληνικά (Greek)
    • Latinum (Latin)
    • Svenska (Swedish)
    • Dansk (Danish)
    • Suomi (Finnish)
    • فارسی (Persian)
    • ייִדיש (Yiddish)
    • հայերեն (Armenian)
    • Norsk (Norwegian)
    • English (English)

    Citation

    Use the citation below to add this poem to your bibliography:

    Style:MLAChicagoAPA

    "A Bush Study, A La Watteau" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2021. Web. 7 May 2021. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/3911/a-bush-study,-a-la-watteau>.

    We need you!

    Help us build the largest poetry community and poems collection on the web!

    Browse Poetry.com

    Quiz

    Are you a poetry master?

    »
    What are the first eight lines of a sonnet called?
    • A. octopus
    • B. octet
    • C. octave
    • D. octane

    Our favorite collection of

    Famous Poets

    »