Verse > Anthologies > > Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. > The Oxford Book of Victorian Verse
Arthur Quiller-Couch, comp.  The Oxford Book of Victorian Verse.  1922.
To Olive
By Alfred Douglas (1870–1945)
I HAVE been profligate of happiness
  And reckless of the world’s hostility,
  The blessèd part has not been given to me
Gladly to suffer fools, I do confess
I have enticed and merited distress,        5
  By this, that I have never bow’d the knee
  Before the shrine of wise Hypocrisy,
Nor worn self-righteous anger like a dress.
Yet write you this, sweet one, when I am dead:
  ‘Love like a lamp sway’d over all his days        10
    And all his life was like a lamp-lit chamber,
Where is no nook, no chink unvisited
  By the soft affluence of golden rays,
    And all the room is bathed in liquid amber.’
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