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Poem by Frederick Locker-Lampson

My Life Is A

At Worthing an exile from Geraldine G,
How aimless, how wretched an exile is he!
Promenades are not even prunella and leather
To lovers, if lovers cant foot them together.

He flies the parade, sad by ocean he stands,
He traces a Geraldine G on the sands.
But a G, tho her lovd patronymic is Green,
I will not betray thee, my own Geraldine.

The fortunes of men have a time and a tide,
And Fate, the old fury, will not be denied;
That name was, of course, soon wipd out by the sea,
And she jilted the exile, did Geraldine G.

They meet, but they never have spoken since that,
He hopes she is happyhe knows she is fat;
She wood on the shore, now is wed in the Strand,
And Iit was I wrote her name on the sand!

Frederick Locker-Lampson

Frederick Locker-Lampson's other poems:
  1. My Firstborn
  2. The Old Clerk
  3. The Pilgrims of Pall Mall
  4. St Georges, Hanover Square
  5. Bramble-Rise

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