In 1860, Douglas's grandfather, the 8th Marquess of Queensberry, had died in what was reported as a shooting accident, but his death was widely believed to have been suicide. In 1893, Douglas had a brief affair with George Ives. Their relationship had always been a strained one and during the Queensberry-Wilde feud, Douglas sided with Wilde, even encouraging him to prosecute his own father for libel. At Oxford, Douglas edited an undergraduate journal The Spirit Lamp (1892-3), an activity that intensified the constant conflict between him and his father. He was his mother's favourite child she called him "Bosie" (a derivative of Boysie), a nickname which stayed with him for the rest of his life.ĭouglas was educated at Winchester College (1884-1888) and at Magdalen College, Oxford (1889-1893), which he left without obtaining a degree. Courtesy Find a Grave.ĭouglas, the 3rd son of John Douglas, 9th Marquess of Queensberry and his 1st wife, Sibyl (Montgomery), was born at Ham Hill House in Worcestershire. The difference between the highest Art and “ Art for Art’s sake ” corresponds to the difference between Philosophy and Sophistry.Douglas as a student. Beauty in the sphere of the spirit is simply goodness in a greater or less degree. That is why all really great Art is founded on and springs from morality. Beautiful forms, beautiful sounds, beautiful colours, beautiful faces are simply the channels by which spiritual perfection is suggested to our spirit, and the resulting yearning, the desperate struggle upwards of the soul towards the Supreme Beauty, however dimly and darkly 120 felt, is what produces all great art whether in poetry or in music, or in sculpture, or in painting. The reason of this is that ethical beauty is at the back of all beauty. It follows that when I talk of the preoccupation with beauty as being absolutely necessary to the poet, I mean spiritual beauty and nothing else. “But poetry is an affair of the spirit and people who imagine that they are going to turn themselves into great poets by an inordinate admiration of beautiful material things or beautiful people are fostering the most puerile of delusions. I am the love that dare not speak its name.” ![]() Then sighing, said the other, 'Have thy will, The hearts of boy and girl with mutual flame.' Then straight the first did turn himself to meĪnd cried, 'He lieth, for his name is Shame, What is thy name?' He said, 'My name is Love.' These pleasent realms? I pray thee speak me sooth Tell me why, sad and sighing, thou dost rove I fell a-weeping, and I cried, 'Sweet youth, With the device of a great snake, whose breath Was wreathed with moon-flowers pale as lips of death.Ī purple robe he wore, o'erwrought in gold Like poppies, and his hands he clenched tight, Like pallid lilies, and his lips were red That moved me, and his cheeks were wan and white With gazing and he sighed with many sighs Were strange with wondrous brightness, staring wide He was full sad and sweet, and his large eyes With strings of gold that were as maidens' hair,Īnd sang with voice as tuneful as a flute,Īnd round his neck three chains of roses were.īut he that was his comrade walked aside Of golden grass his feet did trip for joy His eyes were bright, and 'mid the dancing blades Red were his lips as red wine-spilith that dyesĪnd he came near me, with his lips uncurledĪnd kind, and caught my hand and kissed my mouth,Īnd gave me grapes to eat, and said, 'Sweet friend,Ĭome I will show thee shadows of the worldĬomes the pale pageant that hath never an end.'Īnd fair and blooming, and a sweet refrainĬame from his lips he sang of pretty maids White as the snow on pathless mountains frore, Was twined with flowers, and in his hand he boreĪ purple bunch of bursting grapes, his eyes ![]() To shield him from the sun, his wind-tossed hair The garden came a youth one hand he raised To see a place so strange, so sweet, so fair. Uprose and gazing I stood long, all mazed Only God's glory, for never a sunrise mars Slowly but exquisitely nurtured by the stars,Īnd watered with the scented dew long cupped Of grass that in an hundred springs had been Scarce seen for the rank grass, and through green netsīlue eyes of shy peryenche winked in the sun.Īnd there were curious flowers, before unknown,įlowers that were stained with moonlight, or with shades There were pools that dreamedīlack and unruffled there were white lilies ![]() Like a waste garden, flowering at its will And at my feet there lay a ground, that seemed
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