Who is Sydney Thompson Dobell

Sydney Thompson Dobell (5 April 1824 – 22 August 1874) was an English poet and critic, and a member of the so-called Spasmodic school.

Biography

Dobell was born at Cranbrook, Kent. His father, John Dobell, was a wine merchant and his mother Julietta was a daughter of Samuel Thompson (1766–1837), a London political reformer. He was an older brother of the surgeon Horace Dobell. The family moved to Cheltenham when Dobell was twelve years old. He was educated privately, and never attended either school or university. He refers to this in some lines on Cheltenham College in imitation of Chaucer, written in his eighteenth year. After a five-year engagement he married, in 1844, Emily Fordham, a lady of good family. Acquaintance with James Stansfeld (subsequently Sir ...
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Sydney Thompson Dobell Poems

  • The Orphan's Song
    I had a little bird,
    I took it from the nest;
    I prest it, and blest it,
    And nurst it in my breast. ...
  • On Receiving A Book From Dante Rossetti
    Since he is Poet of whom gods ordain
    Some most anthropic and perhuman act
    Whereby his manhood shall so man his fact
    That but his man of man is born again, ...
  • Sister To Sister
    'When I received that love which is a face,
    When I perceived that face which is a love,
    Two voices, like those two old nations, strove
    Within my heart, and the first-born gave place ...
  • Keith Of Ravelston
    The murmur of the mourning ghost
    That keeps the shadowy kine,
    'O Keith of Ravelston,
    The sorrows of thy line!' ...
  • Laus Deo
    IN the hall the coffin waits, and the idle armourer stands.
    At his belt the coffin nails, and the hammer in his hands.
    The bed of state is hung with crape--the grand old bed where she was
    wed-- ...
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Top 10 most used topics by Sydney Thompson Dobell

I Love You 45 Love 45 Heart 42 Night 41 Great 41 Sea 40 World 36 Sweet 35 Dark 34 Head 34


Sydney Thompson Dobell Quotes

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Comments about Sydney Thompson Dobell

Merry_so_merry: "it is a zealot's faith that blasts the shrines of the false god, but builds no temple to the true." sydney thompson dobell
Randydandy76: -home, wounded; sydney thompson dobell
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Poem of the day

Edgar Albert Guest Poem
The Killing Place
 by Edgar Albert Guest

We're hiking along at a two-forty pace
We 're making life seem like a man-killing race,
With our nerves all on edge and our jaws firmly set
We go rushing along; with our brows lined with sweat
And our cheeks pale and drawn every minute we dash,
And the goal that we 're after is merely more cash.

We 're out for the money, the greenbacks and gold,
...

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