Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE INN ALBUM: PART 1, by ROBERT BROWNING Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: That oblong book's the album; hand it over Last Line: Occupied by the elm at window there. Subject(s): Books; Reading | ||||||||
I "THAT oblong book's the Album; hand it here! Exactly! page on page of gratitude For breakfast, dinner, supper, and the view! I praise these poets, they leave margin-space; Each stanza seems to gather skirts around, And primly, trimly, keep the foot's confine, Modest and maidlike; lubber prose o'ersprawls And straddling stops the path from left to right. Since I want space to do my cipher-work, Which poem spares a corner? What comes first? 'Hail, calm acclivity, salubrious spot!' (Open the window, we burn daylight, boy!) Or see -- succincter beauty, brief and bold -- 'If a fellow can dine On rump-steaks and port wine, He needs not despair Of dining well here' -- 'Here!' I myself could find a better rhyme! That bard's a Browning; he neglects the form: But ah, the sense, ye gods, the weighty sense! Still, I prefer this classic. Ay, throw wide! I'll quench the bits of candle yet unburnt. A minute's fresh air, then to cipher-work! Three little columns hold the whole account: Ecarte, after which Blind Hookey, then Cutting-the-Pack, five hundred pounds the cut. 'T is easy reckoning: I have lost, I think." Two personages occupy this room Shabby-genteel, that's parlor to the inn Perched on a view-commanding eminence; -- Inn which may be a veritable house Where somebody once lived and pleased good taste Till tourists found his coigne of vantage out, And fingered blunt the individual mark, And vulgarized things comfortably smooth. On a sprig-pattern-papered wall there brays Complaint to sky Sir Edwin's dripping stag; His couchant coast-guard creature corresponds; They face the Huguenot and Light o' the World. Grim o'er the mirror on the mantelpiece, Varnished and coffined, Salmo ferox glares, -- Possibly at the List of Wines which, framed And glazed, hangs somewhat prominent on peg. So much describes the stuffy little room -- Vulgar flat smooth respectability: Not so the burst of landscape surging in, Sunrise and all, as he who of the pair Is, plain enough, the younger personage Draws sharp the shrieking curtain, sends aloft The sash, spreads wide and fastens back to wall Shutter and shutter, shows you England's best. He leans into a living glory-bath Of air and light where seems to float and move The wooded watered country, hill and dale And steel-bright thread of stream, a-smoke with mist, A-sparkle with May morning, diamond drift O' the sun-touched dew. Except the red-roofed patch Of half a dozen dwellings that, crept close For hillside shelter, make the village-clump, This inn is perched above to dominate -- Except such sign of human neighborhood, "And this surmised rather than sensible" There's nothing to disturb absolute peace, The reign of English nature -- which means art And civilized existence. Wildness' self Is just the cultured triumph. Presently Deep solitude, be sure, reveals a Place That knows the right way to defend itself: Silence hems round a burning spot of life. Now, where a Place burns, must a village brood, And where a village broods, an inn should boast -- Close and convenient: here you have them both. This inn, the Something-arms -- the family's -- (Don't trouble Guillim: heralds leave out half!) Is dear to lovers of the picturesque, And epics have been planned here; but who plan Take holy orders and find work to do. Painters are more productive, stop a week, Declare the prospect quite a Corot, -- ay, For tender sentiment, -- themselves incline Rather to handsweep large and liberal; Then go, but not without success achieved -- Haply some pencil-drawing, oak or beech, Ferns at the base and ivies up the bole, On this a slug, on that a butterfly. Nay, he who hooked the salmo pendent here, Also exhibited, this same May-month, "Foxgloves: a study" -- so inspires the scene, The air, which now the younger personage Inflates him with till lungs o'erfraught are fain Sigh forth a satisfaction might bestir Even those tufts of tree-tops to the South I' the distance where the green dies off to gray, Which, easy of conjecture, front the Place; He eyes them, elbows wide, each hand to cheek. His fellow, the much older -- either say A youngish-old man or man oldish-young -- Sits at the table: wicks are noisome-deep In wax, to detriment of plated ware; Above -- piled, strewn -- is store of playing cards, Counters and all that's proper for a game. He sets down, rubs out figures in the book, Adds and subtracts, puts back here, carries there, Until the summed-up satisfaction stands Apparent, and he pauses o'er the work: Soothes what of brain was busy under brow, By passage of the hard palm, curing so Wrinkle and crowfoot for a second's space; Then lays down book and laughs out. No mistake, Such the sum-total -- ask Colenso else! Roused by which laugh, the other turns, laughs too -- The youth, the good strong fellow, rough perhaps. "Well, what's the damage -- three, or four, or five? How many figures in a row? Hand here! Come now, there's one expense all yours not mine -- Scribbling the people's Album over, leaf The first and foremost too! You think, perhaps, They'll only charge you for a brand-new book Nor estimate the literary loss? Wait till the small account comes! 'To one night's Lodging,' for -- 'beds' they can't say, -- 'pound or so; Dinner, Apollinaris, -- what they please, Attendance not included;' last looms large 'Defacement of our Album, late enriched With' -- let's see what! Here, at the window, though! Ay, breathe the morning and forgive your luck! Fine enough country for a fool like me To own, as next month I suppose I shall! Eh? True fool's-fortune! so console yourself, Let's see, however -- hand the book, I say! Well, you've improved the classic by romance. Queer reading! Verse with parenthetic prose -- 'Hail, calm acclivity, salubrious spot!' (Three-two fives) 'life how profitably spent' (Five-naught, five-nine fives) 'yonder humble cot, (More and more naughts and fives) 'in mild content; And did my feelings find the natural vent In friendship and in love, how blest my lot!' Then follow the dread figures -- five! 'Content?' That's appetite! Are you content as he -- Simpkin the sonneteer? Ten thousand pounds Give point to his effusion -- by so much Leave me the richer and the poorer you After our night's play; who's content the most, If, you, or Simpkin?" So the polished snob. The elder man, refinement every inch From brow to boot-end, quietly replies: "Simpkin's no name I know. I had my whim." "Ay, had you! And such things make friendship thick. Intimates, I may boast we were; henceforth, Friends -- shall it not be? -- who discard reserve, Use plain words, put each dot upon each i, Till death us twain do part? The bargain's struck! Old fellow, if you fancy -- (to begin --) I failed to penetrate your scheme last week, You wrong your poor disciple. Oh, no airs! Because you happen to be twice my age And twenty times my master, must perforce No blink of daylight struggle through the web There's no unwinding? You entoil my legs, And welcome, for I like it: blind me, -- no! A very pretty piece of shuttle-work Was that -- your mere chance question at the club -- 'Do you go anywhere this Whitsuntide? I'm off for Paris, there's the Opera -- there's The Salon, there's a china-sale, -- beside Chantilly; and, for good companionship, There's Such-and-such and So-and-so. Suppose We start together?' 'No such holiday!' I told you: 'Paris and the rest be hanged! Why plague me who am pledged to home-de-lights? I'm the engaged now; through whose fault but yours? On duty. As you well know. Don't I drowse The week away down with the Aunt and Niece? No help: it's leisure, loneliness, and love. 'Wish I could take you; but fame travels fast, -- A man of much newspaper-paragraph, You scare domestic circles; and beside Would not you like your lot, that second taste Of nature and approval of the grounds! You might walk early or lie late, so shirk Week-day devotions: but stay Sunday o'er, And morning church is obligatory: No mundane garb permissible, or dread The butler's privileged monition! No! Pack off to Paris, nor wipe tear away!' Whereon how artlessly the happy flash Followed, by inspiration! ''Tell you what -- Let's turn their flank, try things on t' other side! Inns for my money! Liberty's the life! We'll lie in hiding: there's the crow-nest nook, The tourist's joy, the Inn they rave about, Inn that's out -- out of sight and out of mind And out of mischief to all four of us -- Aunt and niece, you and me. At night arrive; At morn, find time for just a Pisgah-view Of my friend's Land of Promise; then depart. And while I'm whizzing onward by first train, Bound for our own place (since my Brother sulks And says I shun him like the plague) yourself -- Why, you have stepped thence, start from platform, gay Despite the sleepless journey, -- love lends wings, -- Hug aunt and niece who, none the wiser, wait The faithful advent! Eh?' 'With all my heart,' Said I to you; said I to mine own self: 'Does he believe I fail to comprehend He wants just one more final friendly snack At friend's exchequer ere friend runs to earth Marries, renounces yielding friends such sport?' And did I spoil sport, pull face grim, -- nay, grave? Your pupil does you better credit! No! I parleyed with my pass-book, -- rubbed my pair At the big balance in my banker's hands, -- Folded a check cigar-case-shape, -- just wants Filling and signing, -- and took train, resolved To execute myself with decency And let you win -- if not Ten thousand quite, Something by way of wind-up-farewell burst Of firework-nosegay! Where's your fortune fled? Or is not fortune constant after all? You lose ten thousand pounds: had I lost half Or half that, I should bite my lips, I think. You man of marble! Strut and stretch my best On tiptoe, I shall never reach your height. How does the loss feel! Just one lesson more!" The more refined man smiles a frown away. "The lesson shall be -- only boys like you Put such a question at the present stage. I had a ball lodge in my shoulder once, And, full five minutes, never guessed the fact; Next day, I felt decidedly: and still, At twelve years' distance, when I lift my arm A twinge reminds me of the surgeon's probe. Ask me, this day month, how I feel my luck! And meantime please to stop impertinence, For -- don't I know its object? All this chaff Covers the corn, this preface leads to speech, This boy stands forth a hero. 'There, my lord! Our play was true play, fun not earnest! I Empty your purse, inside out, while my poke Bulges to bursting? You can badly spare A doit, confess now, Duke though brother be! While I'm gold - daubed so thickly, spangles drop And show my father's warehouse-apron: pshaw! Enough! We've had a palpitating night! Good morning! Breakfast and forget our dreams! My mouth's shut, mind! I tell nor man nor mouse.' There, see! He don't deny it! Thanks, my boy! Hero and welcome -- only, not on me Make trial of your 'prentice-hand! Enough! We've played, I've lost and owe ten thousand pounds, Whereof I muster, at the moment, -- well, What's for the bill here and the back to town. Still, I've my little character to keep; You may expect your money at month's end." The young man at the window turns round quick -- A clumsy giant handsome creature; grasps In his large red the little lean white hand Of the other, looks him in the sallow face. "I say now -- is it right to so mistake A fellow, force him in mere self-defence To spout like Mister Mild Acclivity In album-language? You know well enough Whether I like you -- like's no album-word, Anyhow: point me to one soul beside In the wide world I care one straw about! I first set eyes on you a year ago; Since when you've done me good -- I'll stick to it -- More than I got in the whole twenty-five That make my life up, Oxford years and all -- Throw in the three I fooled away abroad, Seeing myself and nobody more sage Until I met you, and you made me man Such as the sort is and the fates allow. I do think, since we two kept company, I've learnt to know a little -- all through you! It's nature if I like you. Taunt away! As if I need you teaching me my place -- The snob I am, the Duke your brother is, When just the good you did was -- teaching me My own trade, how a snob and millionaire May lead his life and let the Duke's alone, Clap wings, free jackdaw, on his steeple-perch, Burnish his black to gold in sun and air, Nor pick up stray plumes, strive to match in strut Regular peacocks who can't fly an inch Over the courtyard-paling. Head and heart (That's album-style) are older than you know, For all your knowledge: boy, perhaps -- ay, boy Had his adventure, just as he were man -- His ball-experience in the shoulder-blade, His bit of life-long ache to recognize, Although he bears it cheerily about, Because you came and clapped him on the back, Advised him 'Walk and wear the aching off!' Why, I was minded to sit down for life Just in Dalmatia, build a seaside tower High on a rock, and so expend my days Pursuing chemistry or botany Or, very like, astronomy because I noticed stars shone when I passed the place. Letting my cash accumulate the while In England -- to lay out in lump at last As Ruskin should direct me! All or some Of which should I have done or tried to do, And preciously repented, one fine day, Had you discovered Timon, climbed his rock And scaled his tower, some ten years thence, suppose, And coaxed his story from him! Don't I see The pair conversing! It's a novel writ Already, I'll be bound, -- our dialogue! 'What?' cried the elder and yet youthful man -- So did the eye flash 'neath the lordly front, And the imposing presence swell with scorn, As the haught high-bred bearing and dispose Contrasted with his interlocutor The flabby low-born who, of bulk before, Had steadily increased, one stone per week, Since his abstention from horse-exercise: -- 'What? you, as rich as Rothschild, left, you say London the very year you came of age, Because your father manufactured goods -- Commission-agent hight of Manchester -- Partly, and partly through a baby case Of disappointment I've pumped out at last -- And here you spend life's prime in gaining flesh And giving science one more asteroid?' Brief, my dear fellow, you instructed me, At Alfred's and not Istria! proved a snob May turn a million to account although His brother be no Duke, and see good days Without the girl he lost and some one gained. The end is, after one year's tutelage, Having, by your help, touched society, Polo, Tent-pegging, Hurlingham, the Rink -- I leave all these delights, by your advice, And marry my young pretty cousin here Whose place, whose oaks ancestral you behold. (Her father was in partnership with mine -- Does not his purchase look a pedigree?) My million will be tails and tassels smart To this plump-bodied kite, this house and land Which, set a-soaring, pulls me, soft as sleep, Along life's pleasant meadow, -- arm left free To lock a friend's in, -- whose, but yours, old boy? Arm in arm glide we over rough and smooth, While hand, to pocket held, saves cash from cards. Now, if you don't esteem ten thousand pounds (-- Which I shall probably discover snug Hid somewhere in the column-corner capped With 'Credit,' based on 'Balance,' -- which, I swear, By this time next month I shall quite forget Whether I lost or won -- ten thousand pounds, Which at this instant I would give ... let's see, For Galopin -- nay, for that Gainsborough Sir Richard won't sell, and, if bought by me, Would get my glance and praise some twice a year, --) Well, if you don't esteem that price dirt-cheap For teaching me Dalmatia was mistake -- Why then, my last illusion-bubble breaks, My one discovered phoenix proves a goose, My cleverest of all companions -- oh, Was worth nor ten pence nor ten thousand pounds! Come! Be yourself again! So endeth here The morning's lesson! Never while life lasts Do I touch card again. To breakfast now! To bed -- I can't say, since you needs must start For station early -- oh, the down-train still, First plan and best plan -- townward trip be hanged! You're due at your big brother's -- pay that debt, Then owe me not a farthing! Order eggs -- And who knows but there's trout obtainable?" The fine man looks wellnigh malignant: then -- "Sir, please subdue your manner! Debts are debts: I pay mine -- debts of this sort -- certainly. What do I care how you regard your gains, Want them or want them not? The thing I want Is -- not to have a story circulate From club to club -- how, bent on clearing out, Young So-and-so, young So-and-so cleaned me, Then set the empty kennel flush again, Ignored advantage and forgave his friend -- For why? There was no wringing blood from stone! Oh, don't be savage! You would hold your tongue, Bite it in two, as man may; but those small Hours in the smoking-room, when instance apt Rises to tongue's root, tingles on to tip, And the thinned company consists of six Capital well-known fellows one may trust! Next week, it's in the 'World.' No, thank you much. I owe ten thousand pounds: I'll pay them!" "Now, -- This becomes funny. You've made friends with me: I can't help knowing of the ways and means! Or stay! they say your brother closets up Correggio's long lost Leda: if he means To give you that, and if you give it me" ... "I polished snob off to aristocrat? You compliment me! father's apron still Sticks out from son's court-vesture; still silk purse Roughs finger with some bristle sow-ear-born! Well, neither I nor you mean harm at heart! I owe you and shall pay you: which premised, Why should what follows sound like flattery? The fact is -- you do compliment too much Your humble master, as I own I am; You owe me no such thanks as you protest. The polisher needs precious stone no less Than precious stone needs polisher: believe I struck no tint from out you but I found Snuglying first 'neath surface hairbreadth-deep! Beside, I liked the exercise: with skill Goes love to show skill for skill's sake. You see, I'm old and understand things: too absurd It were you pitched and tossed away your life, As diamond were Scotch-pebble! all the more, That I myself misused a stone of price. Born and bred clever -- people used to say Clever as most men, if not something more -- Yet here I stand a failure, cut awry Or left opaque, -- no brilliant named and known. Whate'er my inner stuff, my outside's blank; I'm nobody -- or rather, look that same -- I'm -- who I am -- and know it; but I hold What in my hand out for the world to see? What ministry, what mission, or what book -- I'll say, book even? Not a sign of these! I began -- laughing -- 'All these when I like!' I end with -- well, you've hit it! -- 'This boy's check For just as many thousands as he'll spare!' The first -- I could, and would not; your spare cash I would, and could not: have no scruple, pray, But, as I hoped to pocket yours, pouch mine -- When you are able!" "Which is -- when to be? I've heard, great characters require a fall Of fortune to show greatness by uprise: They touch the ground to jollily rebound, Add to the Album! Let a fellow share Your secret of superiority! I know, my banker makes the money breed Money; I eat and sleep, he simply takes The dividends and cuts the coupons off, Sells out, buys in, keeps doubling, tripling cash While I do nothing but receive and spend. But you, spontaneous generator, hatch A wind-egg; cluck, and forth struts Capital As Interest to me from egg of gold. I am grown curious: pay me by all means! How will you make the money?" "Mind your own -- Not my affair. Enough: or money, or Money's worth, as the case may be, expect Ere month's end, -- keep but patient for a month! Who's for a stroll to station? Ten's the time; Your man, with my things, follow in the trap; At stoppage of the down-train, play the arrived On platform, and you'll show the due fatigue Of the night-journey, -- not much sleep, -- perhaps, Your thoughts were on before you -- yes, indeed, You join them, being happily awake With thought's sole object as she smiling sits At breakfast-table. I shall dodge meantime In and out station-precinct, wile away The hour till up my engine pants and smokes. No doubt, she goes to fetch you. Never fear! She gets no glance at me, who shame such saints!" II So, they ring bell, give orders, pay, depart Amid profuse acknowledgment from host Who well knows what may bring the younger back. They light cigar, descend in twenty steps The "calm acclivity," inhale -- beyond Tobacco's balm -- the better smoke of turf And wood fire, -- cottages at cookery I' the morning, -- reach the main road straightening on 'Twixt wood and wood, two black walls full of night Slow to disperse, though mists thin fast before The advancing foot, and leave the flint-dust fine Each speck with its fire-sparkle. Presently The road's end with the sky's beginning mix In one magnificence of glare, due East, So high the sun rides, -- May's the merry month. They slacken pace: the younger stops abrupt, Discards cigar, looks his friend full in face. "All right; the station comes in view at end; Five minutes from the beech-clump, there you are! I say: let's halt, let's borrow yonder gate Of its two magpies, sit and have a talk! Do let a fellow speak a moment! More I think about and less I like the thing -- No, you must let me! Now, be good for once! Ten thousand pounds be done for, dead and damned! We played for love, not hate: yes, hate! I hate Thinking you beg or borrow or reduce To strychnine some poor devil of a lord Licked at Unlimited Loo. I had the cash To lose -- you knew that! -- lose and none the less Whistle to-morrow: it's not every chap Affords to take his punishment so well! Now, don't be angry with a friend whose fault Is that he thinks -- upon my soul, I do -- Your head the best head going. Oh, one sees Names in the newspaper -- great This, great That, Gladstone, Carlyle, the Laureate: -- much I care! Others have their opinion, I keep mine: Which means -- by right you ought to have the things I want a head for. Here's a pretty place, My cousin's place, and presently my place, Not yours! I'll tell you how it strikes a man. My cousin's fond of music and of course Plays the piano (it won't be for long!) A brand-new bore she calls a 'semi-grand' Rosewood and pearl, that blocks the drawing-room, And cost no end of money. Twice a week Down comes Herr Somebody and seats himself, Sets to work teaching -- with his teeth on edge -- I've watched the rascal. 'Does he play first-rate?' I ask: 'I rather think so,' answers she -- 'He's What's-his-Name!' -- 'Why give you lessons then?' -- 'I pay three guineas and the train beside.' -- 'This instrument, has he one such at home?' -- 'He? Has to practise on a table-top, When he can't hire the proper thing.' -- 'I see! You've the piano, he the skill, and God The distribution of such gifts.' So here: After your teaching, I shall sit and strum Polkas on this piano of a Place You'd make resound with 'Rule Britannia'!" "Thanks! I don't say but this pretty cousin's place, Appendaged with your million, tempts my hand As key-board I might touch with some effect." "Then, why not have obtained the like? House, land, Money, are things obtainable, you see, By clever head-work: ask my father else! You, who teach me, why not have learned, yourself? Played like Herr Somebody with power to thump And flourish and the rest, not bend demure Pointing out blunders -- 'Sharp, not natural! Permit me -- on the black key use the thumb!' There's some fatality, I'm sure! You say 'Marry the cousin, that's your proper move!' And I do use the thumb and hit the sharp: You should have listened to your own head's hint, As I to you! The puzzle's past my power, How you have managed -- with such stuff, such means -- Not to be rich nor great nor happy man: Of which three good things where's a sign at all? Just look at Dizzy! Come, -- what tripped your heels? Instruct a goose that boasts wings and can't fly! I wager I have guessed it! -- never found The old solution of the riddle fail! 'Who was the woman?' I don't ask, but -- 'Where I' the path of life stood she who tripped you?'" "Goose You truly are! I own to fifty years. Why don't I interpose and cut out -- you? Compete with five - and - twenty? Age, my boy!" "Old man, no nonsense! -- even to a boy That's ripe at least for rationality Rapped into him, as maybe mine was, once! I've had my small adventure lesson me Over the knuckles! -- likely, I forget The sort of figure youth cuts now and then, Competing with old shoulders but young head Despite the fifty grizzling years!" "Aha? Then that means -- just the bullet in the blade Which brought Dalmatia on the brain, -- that, too, Came of a fatal creature? Can't pretend Now for the first time to surmise as much! Make a clean breast! Recount! a secret's safe 'Twixt you, me, and the gate-post!" "-- Can't pretend, Neither, to never have surmised your wish! It's no use, -- case of unextracted ball -- Winces at finger-touching. Let things be!" "Ah, if you love your love still! I hate mine." "I can't hate." "I won't teach you; and won't tell You, therefore, what you please to ask of me: As if I, also, may not have my ache!" "My sort of ache? No, no! and yet -- perhaps! All comes of thinking you superior still. But live and learn! I say! Time's up! Good jump! You old, indeed! I fancy there's a cut Across the wood, a grass-path: shall we try? It's venturesome, however!" "Stop, my boy! Don't think I'm stingy of experience! Life -- It's like this wood we leave. Should you and I Go wandering about there, though the gaps We went in and came out by were opposed As the two poles still, somehow, all the same By nightfall we should probably have chanced On much the same main points of interest -- Both of us measured girth of mossy trunk, Stript ivy from its strangled prey, clapped hands At squirrel, sent a fir-cone after crow, And so forth, -- never mind what time betwixt. So in our lives; allow I entered mine Another way than you: 't is possible I ended just by knocking head against That plaguy low-hung branch yourself began By getting bump from; as at last you too May stumble o'er that stump which first of all Bade me walk circumspectly. Head and feet Are vulnerable both, and I, foot-sure, Forgot that ducking down saves brow from bruise. I, early old, played young man four years since And failed confoundedly: so, hate alike Failure and who caused failure, -- curse her cant!" "Oh, I see! You, though somewhat past the prime, Were taken with a rosebud beauty! Ah -- But how should chits distinguish? She admired Your marvel of a mind, I'll undertake! But as to body ... nay, I mean ... that is, When years have told on face and figure" ... "Thanks, Mister Sufficiently-Instructed! Such No doubt was bound to be the consequence To suit your self-complacency: she liked My head enough, but loved some heart beneath Some head with plenty of brown hair a-top After my young friend's fashion! What becomes Of that fine speech you made a minute since About the man of middle age you found A formidable peer at twenty-one? So much for your mock-modesty! and yet I back your first against this second sprout Of observation, insight, what you please. My middle age, Sir, had too much success! It's odd: my case occurred four years ago -- I finished just while you commenced that turn I' the wood of life that takes us to the wealth Of honeysuckle, heaped for who can reach. Now, I don't boast: it's bad style, and beside, The feat proves easier than it looks: I plucked Full many a flower unnamed in that bouquet (Mostly of peonies and poppies, though!) Good-nature sticks into my buttonhole. Therefore it was with nose in want of snuff Rather than Ess or Psidium, that I chanced On what -- so far from 'rosebud beauty' ... Well -- She's dead: at least you never heard her name; She was no courtly creature, had nor birth Nor breeding -- mere fine-lady-breeding: but Oh, such a wonder of a woman! Grand As a Greek statue! Stick fine clothes on that, Style that a Duchess or a Queen, -- you know, Artists would make an outcry: all the more, That she had just a statue's sleepy grace Which broods o'er its own beauty. Nay, her fault (Don't laugh!) was just perfection: for suppose Only the little flaw, and I had peeped Inside it, learned what soul inside was like. At Rome some tourist raised the grit beneath A Venus' forehead with his whittling-knife -- I wish -- now -- I had played that brute, brought blood To surface from the depths I fancied chalk! As it was, her mere face surprised so much That I stopped short there, struck on heap, as stares The cockney stranger at a certain bust With drooped eyes, -- she's the thing I have in mind, -- Down at my Brother's. All sufficient prize -- Such outside! Now, -- confound me for a prig! -- Who cares? I'll make a clean breast once for all! Beside, you've heard the gossip. My life long I've been a woman-liker, -- liking means Loving and so on. There's a lengthy list By this time I shall have to answer for -- So say the good folk: and they don't guess half -- For the worst is, let once collecting-itch Possess you, and, with perspicacity, Keeps growing such a greediness that theft Follows at no long distance, -- there's the fact! I knew that on my Leporello-list Might figure this, that, and the other name Of feminine desirability, But if I happened to desire inscribe, Along with these, the only Beautiful -- Here was the unique specimen to snatch Or now or never. 'Beautiful' I said -- 'Beautiful' say in cold blood, -- boiling then To tune of 'Haste, secure whate'er the cost This rarity, die in the act, be damned, So you complete collection, crown your list!' It seemed as though the whole world, once aroused By the first notice of such wonder's birth, Would break bounds to contest my prize with me The first discoverer, should she but emerge From that safe den of darkness where she dozed Till I stole in, that country-parsonage Where, country-parson's daughter, motherless, Brotherless, sisterless, for eighteen years She had been vegetating lily-like. Her father was my brother's tutor, got The living that way: him I chanced to see -- Her I saw -- her the world would grow one eye To see, I felt no sort of doubt at all! 'Secure her!' cried the devil: 'afterward Arrange for the disposal of the prize!' The devil's doing! yet I seem to think -- Now, when all's done, -- think with 'a head reposed' In French phrase -- hope I think I meant to do All requisite for such a rarity When I should be at leisure, have due time To learn requirement. But in evil day -- Bless me, at week's end, long as any year, The father must begin, 'Young Somebody, Much recommended -- for I break a rule -- Comes here to read, next Long Vacation.' -- 'Young!' That did it. Had the epithet been 'rich,' 'Noble,' 'a genius,' even 'handsome,' -- but -- 'Young'!" "I say -- just a word! I want to know -- You are not married?" "I?" "Nor ever were?" "Never! Why?" "Oh, then -- never mind! Go on! I had a reason for the question." "Come, -- You could not be the young man?" "No, indeed! Certainly -- if you never married her!" "That I did not: and there's the curse, you'll see! Nay, all of it's one curse, my life's mistake Which nourished with manure that's warranted To make the plant bear wisdom, blew out full In folly beyond fieldflower-foolishness! The lies I used to tell my womankind! Knowing they disbelieved me all the time Though they required my lies, their decent due, This woman -- not so much believed, I'll say, As just anticipated from my mouth: Since being true, devoted, constant -- she Found constancy, devotion, truth, the plain And easy commonplace of character. No mock-heroics but seemed natural To her who underneath the face, I knew Was fairness' self, possessed a heart, I judged Must correspond in folly just as far Beyond the common, -- and a mind to match, -- Not made to puzzle conjurers like me Who, therein, proved the fool who fronts you, Sir, And begs leave to cut short the ugly rest! 'Trust me!' I said: she trusted. 'Marry me!' Or rather, 'We are married: when, the rite?' That brought on the collector's next-day qualm At counting acquisition's cost. There lay My marvel, there my purse more light by much Because of its late lie-expenditure: Ill-judged such moment to make fresh demand -- To cage as well as catch my rarity! So, I began explaining. At first word Outbroke the horror. 'Then, my truths were lies!' I tell you, such an outbreak, such new strange All-unsuspected revelation -- soul As supernaturally grand as face Was fair beyond example -- that at once Either I lost -- or, if it please you, found My senses, -- stammered somehow -- 'Jest! and now, Earnest! Forget all else but -- heart has loved, Does love, shall love you ever! take the hand!' Not she! no marriage for superb disdain, Contempt incarnate!" "Yes, it's different, -- It's only like in being four years since. I see now!" "Well, what did disdain do next, Think you?" "That's past me: did not marry you! -- That's the main thing I care for, I suppose. Turned nun, or what?" "Why, married in a month Some parson, some smug crop-haired smooth-chinned sort Of curate-creature, I suspect, -- dived down, Down, deeper still, and came up somewhere else -- I don't know where -- I've not tried much to know, -- In short, she's happy: what the clodpoles call 'Countrified' with a vengeance! leads the life Respectable and all that drives you mad: Still -- where, I don't know, and that's best for both." "Well, that she did not like you, I conceive. But why should you hate her, I want to know?" "My good young friend, -- because or her or else Malicious Providence I have to hate. For, what I tell you proved the turning-point Of my whole life and fortune toward success Or failure. If I drown, I lay the fault Much on myself who caught at reed not rope, But more on reed which, with a packthread's pith, Had buoyed me till the minute's cramp could thaw And I strike out afresh and so be saved. It's easy saying -- I had sunk before, Disqualified myself by idle days And busy nights, long since, from holding hard On cable, even, had fate cast me such! You boys don't know how many times men fail Perforce o' the little to succeed i' the large, Husband their strength, let slip the petty prey, Collect the whole power for the final pounce! My fault was the mistaking man's main prize For intermediate boy's diversion; clap Of boyish hands here frightened game away Which, once gone, goes forever. Oh, at first I took the anger easily, nor much Minded the anguish -- having learned that storms Subside and teapot-tempests are akin. Time would arrange things, mend whate'er might be Somewhat amiss; precipitation, eh? Reason and rhyme prompt -- reparation! Tiffs End properly in marriage and a dance! I said 'We'll marry, make the past a blank' -- And never was such damnable mistake! That interview, that laying bare my soul, As it was first, so was it last chance -- one And only. Did I write? Back letter came Unopened as it went. Inexorable She fled, I don't know where, consoled herself With the smug curate - creature: chop and change! Sure am I, when she told her shaveling all His Magdalen's adventure, tears were shed, Forgiveness evangelically shown, 'Loose hair and lifted eye,' -- as some one says. And now, he's worshipped for his pains, the sneak!" "Well, but your turning-point of life, -- what's here To hinder you contesting Finsbury With Orton, next election? I don't see" ... "Not you! But I see. Slowly, surely, creeps Day by day o'er me the conviction -- here Was life's prize grasped at, gained, and then let go! -- That with her -- maybe, for her -- I had felt Ice in me melt, grow steam, drive to effect Any or all the fancies sluggish here I' the head that needs the hand she would not take And I shall never lift now. Lo, your wood -- Its turnings which I likened life to! Well, -- There she stands, ending every avenue, Her visionary presence on each goal I might have gained had we kept side by side! Still string nerve and strike foot? Her frown forbids: The steam congeals once more: I'm old again! Therefore I hate myself -- but how much worse Do not I hate who would not understand, Let me repair things -- no, but sent a-slide My folly falteringly, stumblingly Down, down, and deeper down until I drop Upon -- the need of your ten thousand pounds And consequently loss of mine! I lose Character, cash, nay, common-sense itself Recounting such a lengthy cock-and-bull Adventure, lose my temper in the act" ... "And lose beside, -- if I may supplement The list of losses, -- train and ten-o'clock! Hark, pant and puff, there travels the swart sign! So much the better! You're my captive now! I'm glad you trust a fellow: friends grow thick This way -- that's twice said; we were thickish, though, Even last night, and, ere night comes again, I prophesy good luck to both of us! For see now! -- back to 'balmy eminence' Or 'calm acclivity' or what's the word! Bestow you there an hour, concoct at ease A sonnet for the Album, while I put Bold face on, best foot forward, make for house, March in to aunt and niece, and tell the truth -- (Even white-lying goes against my taste After your little story.) Oh,the niece Is rationality itself! The aunt -- If she's amenable to reason too -- Why, you stopped short to pay her due respect, And let the Duke wait (I'll work well the Duke). If she grows gracious, I return for you; If thunder's in the air, why -- bear your doom, Dine on rump-steaks and port, and shake the dust Of aunty from your shoes as off you go By evening-train, nor give the thing a thought How you shall pay me -- that's as sure as fate, Old fellow! Off with you, face left about! Yonder's the path I have to pad. You see, I'm in good spirits, God knows why! Perhaps Because the woman did not marry you -- Who look so hard at me, -- and have the right, One must be fair and own." The two stand still Under an oak. "Look here!" resumes the youth. "I never quite knew how I came to like You -- so much -- whom I ought not court at all: Nor how you had a leaning just to me Who am assuredly not worth your pains. For there must needs be plenty such as you Somewhere about, -- although I can't say where, -- Able and willing to teach all you know; While -- how can you have missed a score like me With money and no wit, precisely each A pupil for your purpose, were it -- ease Fool's poke of tutor's honorarium-fee? And yet, howe'er it came about, I felt At once my master: you as prompt descried Your man, I warrant, so was bargain struck. Now, these same lines of liking, loving, run Sometimes so close together they converge -- Life's great adventures -- you know what I mean -- In people. Do you know, as you advanced, It got to be uncommonly like fact We two had fallen in with -- liked and loved Just the same woman in our different ways? I began life -- poor groundling as I prove -- Winged and ambitious to fly high: why not? There's something in 'Don Quixote' to the point, My shrewd old father used to quote and praise -- 'Am I born man?' asks Sancho; 'being man, By possibility I may be Pope!' So, Pope I meant to make myself, by step And step, whereof the first should be to find A perfect woman; and I tell you this -- If what I fixed on, in the order due Of undertakings, as next step, had first Of all disposed itself to suit my tread, And I had been, the day I came of age, Returned at head of poll for Westminster -- Nay, and moreover summoned by the Queen At week's end, when my maiden-speech bore fruit, To form and head a Tory ministry -- It would not have seemed stranger, no, nor been More strange to me, as now I estimate, Than what did happen -- sober truth, no dream. I saw my wonder of a woman, -- laugh, I'm past that! -- in Commemoration-week. A plenty have I seen since, fair and foul, -- With eyes, too, helped by your sagacious wink; But one to match that marvel -- no least trace, Least touch of kinship and community! The end was -- I did somehow state the fact, Did, with no matter what imperfect words, One way or other give to understand That woman, soul and body were her slave Would she but take, but try them -- any test Of will, and some poor test of power beside: So did the strings within my brain grow tense And capable of ... hang similitudes! She answered kindly but beyond appeal. 'No sort of hope for me, who came too late. She was another's. Love went -- mine to her, Hers just as loyally to some one else.' Of course! I might expect it! Nature's law -- Given the peerless woman, certainly Somewhere shall be the peerless man to match! I acquiesced at once, submitted me In something of a stupor, went my way. I fancy there had been some talk before Of somebody -- her father or the like -- To coach me in the holidays, -- that's how I came to get the sight and speech of her, -- But I had sense enough to break off sharp, Save both of us the pain." "Quite right there!" "Eh? Quite wrong, it happens! Now comes worst of all! Yes, I did sulk aloof and let alone The lovers -- I disturb the angel-mates?" "Seraph paired off with cherub!" "Thank you! While I never plucked up courage to inquire Who he was, even, -- certain-sure of this, That nobody I knew of had blue wings And wore a star-crown as he needs must do, -- Some little lady, -- plainish, pock-marked girl, -- Finds out my secret in my woeful face, Comes up to me at the Apollo Ball, And pityingly pours her wine and oil This way into the wound: 'Dear f-f-friend, Why waste affection thus on -- must I say, A somewhat worthless object? Who's her choice -- Irrevocable as deliberate -- Out of the wide world? I shall name no names -- But there's a person in society, Who, blessed with rank and talent, has grown gray In idleness and sin of every sort Except hypocrisy: he's thrice her age, A byword for 'successes with the sex' As the French say -- and, as we ought to say, Consummately a liar and a rogue, Since -- show me where's the woman won without The help of this one lie which she believes -- That -- never mind how things have come to pass, And let who loves have loved a thousand times -- All the same he now loves her only, loves Her ever! if by 'won' you just mean 'sold,' That's quite another compact. Well, this scamp, Continuing descent from bad to worse, Must leave his fine and fashionable prey (Who -- fathered, brothered, husbanded, -- are hedged About with thorny danger) and apply His arts to this poor country ignorance Who sees forthwith in the first rag of man Her model hero! Why continue waste On such a woman treasures of a heart Would yet find solace, -- yes, my f-f-friend -- In some congenial -- fiddle-diddle-dee?'" "Pray, is the pleasant gentleman described Exact the portrait which my 'f-f-friends' Recognize as so like? 'T is evident You half surmised the sweet original Could be no other than myself, just now! Your stop and start were flattering!" "Of course Caricature's allowed for in a sketch! The longish nose becomes a foot in length, The swarthy cheek gets copper-colored, -- still, Prominent beak and dark-hued skin are facts: And 'parson's daughter' -- 'young man coachable' -- 'Elderly party' -- 'four years since' -- were facts To fasten on, a moment! Marriage, though -- That made the difference, I hope." "All right! I never married; wish I had -- and then Unwish it: people kill their wives, sometimes! I hate my mistress, but I'm murder-free. In your case, where's the grievance? You came last, The earlier bird picked up the worm. Suppose You, in the glory of your twenty-one, Had happened to precede myself! 't is odds But this gigantic juvenility, This offering of a big arm's bony hand -- I'd rather shake than feel shake me, I know -- Had moved my dainty mistress to admire An altogether new Ideal -- deem Idolatry less due to life's decline Productive of experience, powers mature By dint of usage, the made man -- no boy That's all to make! I was the earlier bird -- And what I found, I let fall; what you missed, Who is the fool that blames you for?" "Myself -- For nothing, everything! For finding out She, whom I worshipped, was a worshipper In turn of ... but why stir up settled mud? She married him -- the fifty-years-old rake -- How you have teased the talk from me! At last My secret's told you. I inquired no more, Nay, stopped ears when informants unshut mouth; Enough that she and he live, deuce take where, Married and happy, or else miserable -- It's 'Cut-the-pack;' she turned up ace or knave, And I left Oxford, England, dug my hole Out in Dalmatia, till you drew me thence Badger-like, -- 'Back to London' was the word -- 'Do things, a many, there, you fancy hard, I'll undertake are easy!' -- the advice. I took it, had my twelvemonth's fling with you -- (Little hand holding large hand pretty tight For all its delicacy -- eh, my lord?) Until when, t' other day, I got a turn Somehow and gave up tired: and 'Rest!' bade you, 'Marry your cousin, double your estate, And take your ease by all means!' So, I loll On this the springy sofa, mine next month -- Or should loll, but that you must needs beat rough The very down you spread me out so smooth. I wish this confidence were still to make! Ten thousand pounds? You owe me twice the sum For stirring up the black depths! There's repose Or, at least, silence when misfortune seems All that one has to bear; but folly -- yes, Folly, it all was! Fool to be so meek, So humble, -- such a coward rather say! Fool, to adore the adorer of a fool! Not to have faced him, tried (a useful hint) My big and bony, here, against the bunch Of lily-colored five with signet-ring, Most like, for little-finger's sole defence -- Much as you flaunt the blazon there! I grind My teeth, that bite my very heart, to think -- To know I might have made that woman mine But for the folly of the coward -- know -- Or what's the good of my apprenticeship This twelvemonth to a master in the art? Mine -- had she been mine -- just one moment mine For honor, for dishonor -- anyhow, So that my life, instead of stagnant ... Well, You've poked and proved stagnation is not sleep -- Hang you!" "Hang you for an ungrateful goose! All this means -- I who since I knew you first Have helped you to conceit yourself this cock O' the dunghill with all hens to pick and choose -- Ought to have helped you when shell first was chipped By chick that wanted prompting 'Use the spur!' While I was elsewhere putting mine to use. As well might I blame you who kept aloof, Seeing you could not guess I was alive, Never advised me 'Do as I have done -- Reverence such a jewel as your luck Has scratched up to enrich unworthiness!' As your behavior was, should mine have been, -- Faults which we both, too late, are sorry for; Opposite ages, each with its mistake: 'If youth but would -- if age but could, 'you know. Don't let us quarrel! Come, we're -- young and old -- Neither so badly off. Go you your way, Cut to the Cousin! I'll to Inn, await The issue of diplomacy with Aunt, And wait my hour on 'calm acclivity' In rumination manifold -- perhaps About ten thousand pounds I have to pay!" III Now, as the elder lights the fresh cigar Conducive to resource, and saunteringly Betakes him to the left-hand backward path, -- While, much sedate, the younger strides away To right and makes for -- islanded in lawn And edged with shrubbery -- the brilliant bit Of Barry's building that's the Place, -- a pair Of women, at this nick of time, one young, One very young, are ushered with due pomp Into the same Inn-parlor -- "disengaged Entirely now!" the obsequious landlord smiles, "Since the late occupants -- whereof but one Was quite a stranger" -- (smile enforced by bow) "Left, a full two hours since, to catch the train, Probably for the stranger's sake!" (Bow, smile, And backing out from door soft-closed behind.) Woman and girl, the two, alone inside, Begin their talk: the girl, with sparkling eyes -- "Oh, I forewent him purposely! but you, Who joined at -- journeyed from the Junction here -- I wonder how he failed your notice. Few Stop at our station: fellow-passengers Assuredly you were -- I saw indeed His servant, therefore he arrived all right. I wanted, you know why, to have you safe Inside here first of all, so dodged about The dark end of the platform; that's his way -- To swing from station straight to avenue And stride the half a mile for exercise. I fancied you might notice the huge boy. He soon gets o'er the distance; at the house He'll hear I went to meet him and have missed; He'll wait. No minute of the hour's too much Meantime for our preliminary talk: First word of which must be -- oh, good beyond Expression of all goodness -- you to come!" The elder, the superb one, answers slow. "There was no helping that. You called for me, Cried, rather: and my old heart answered you Still, thank me! since the effort breaks a vow -- At least, a promise to myself." "I know! How selfish get you happy folk to be! If I should love my husband, must I needs Sacrifice straightway all the world to him, As you do? Must I never dare leave house On this dread Arctic expedition, out And in again, six mortal hours, though you, You even, my own friend forevermore, Adjure me -- fast your friend till rude love pushed Poor friendship from her vantage -- just to grant The quarter of a whole day's company And counsel? This makes counsel so much more Need and necessity. For here's my block Of stumbling: in the face of happiness So absolute, fear chills me. If such change In heart be but love's easy consequence, Do I love? If to marry mean -- let go All I now live for, should my marriage be?" The other never once has ceased to gaze On the great elm-tree in the open, posed Placidly full in front, smooth bole, broad branch, And leafage, one green plenitude of May. The gathered thought runs into speech at last. "O you exceeding beauty, bosomful Of lights and shades, murmurs and silences, Sun-warmth, dew-coolness, -- squirrel, bee and bird, High, higher, highest, till the blue proclaims 'Leave earth, there's nothing better till next step Heavenward!' -- so, off flies what has wings to help!" And henceforth they alternate. Says the girl -- "That's saved then: marriage spares the early taste." "Four years now, since my eye took note of tree!" "If I had seen no other tree but this My life long, while yourself came straight, you said, From tree which overstretched you and was just One fairy tent with pitcher-leaves that held Wine, and a flowery wealth of suns and moons, And magic fruits whereon the angels feed -- I looking out of window on a tree Like yonder -- otherwise well-known, much-liked, Yet just an English ordinary elm -- What marvel if you cured me of conceit My elm's bird-bee-and-squirrel tenantry Was quite the proud possession I supposed? And there is evidence you tell me true. The fairy marriage-tree reports itself Good guardian of the perfect face and form. Fruits of four years' protection! Married friend, You are more beautiful than ever!" "Yes: I think that likely. I could well dispense With all thought fair in feature, mine or no, Leave but enough of face to know me by -- With all found fresh in youth except such strength As lets a life-long labor earn repose Death sells at just that price, they say; and so, Possibly, what I care not for, I keep." "How you must know he loves you! Chill, before, Fear sinks to freezing. Could I sacrifice -- Assured my lover simply loves my soul -- One nose-breadth of fair feature? No, indeed! Your own love" ... "The preliminary hour -- Don't waste it!" "But I can't begin at once! The angel's self that comes to hear me speak Drives away all the care about the speech. What an angelic mystery you are -- Now -- that is certain! when I knew you first, No break of halo and no bud of wing! I thought I knew you, saw you, round and through, Like a glass ball; suddenly, four years since, You vanished, how and whither? Mystery! Wherefore? No mystery at all: you loved, Were loved again, and left the world of course: Who would not? Lapped four years in fairyland, Out comes, by no less wonderful a chance, The changeling, touched athwart her trellised bliss Of blush-rose bower by just the old friend's voice That's now struck dumb at her own potency. I talk of my small fortunes? Tell me yours Rather! The fool I ever was -- I am, You see that: the true friend you ever had, You have, you also recognize. Perhaps, Giving you all the love of all my heart, Nature, that's niggard in me, has denied The after-birth of love there's some one claims -- This huge boy, swinging up the avenue; And I want counsel: is defect in me, Or him who has no right to raise the love? My cousin asks my hand: he's young enough, Handsome, -- my maid thinks, -- manly's more the word: He asked my leave to 'drop' the elm-tree there, Some morning before breakfast. Gentleness Goes with the strength, of course. He's honest too, Limpidly truthful. For ability -- All's in the rough yet. His first taste of life Seems to have somehow gone against the tongue: He travelled, tried things -- came back, tried still more -- He says he's sick of all. He's fond of me After a certain careless-earnest way I like: the iron's crude, -- no polished steel Somebody forged before me. I am rich -- That's not the reason, he's far richer: no, Nor is it that he thinks me pretty, -- frank Undoubtedly on that point! He saw once The pink of face-perfection -- oh, not you -- Content yourself, my beauty! -- for she proved So thoroughly a cheat, his charmer ... nay, He runs into extremes, I'll say at once, Lest you say! Well, I understand he wants Some one to serve, something to do: and both Requisites so abound in me and mine That here's the obstable which stops consent -- The smoothness is too smooth, and I mistrust The unseen cat beneath the counterpane. Therefore I thought -- 'Would she but judge for me, Who, judging for herself, succeeded so!' Do I love him, does he love me, do both Mistake for knowledge -- easy ignorance? Appeal to its proficient in each art! I got rough-smooth through a piano-piece, Rattled away last week till tutor came, Heard me to end, then grunted 'Ach, mein Gott! Sagen Sie "easy"? Every note is wrong! All thumped mit wrist -- we'll trouble fingers now. The Fraulein will please roll up Raff again And exercise at Czerny for one month!' Am I to roll up cousin, exercise At Trollope's novels for one month? Pronounce!" "Now, place each in the right position first, Adviser and advised one! I perhaps Am three -- nay, four years older; am, beside, A wife: advantages -- to balance which, You have a full fresh joyous sense of life That finds you out life's fit food everywhere, Detects enjoyment where I, slow and dull, Fumble at fault. Already, these four years, Your merest glimpses at the world without Have shown you more than ever met my gaze; And now, by joyance you inspire joy, -- learn While you profess to teach, and teach, although Avowedly a learner. I am dazed Like any owl by sunshine which just sets The sparrow preening plumage! Here's to spy -- Your cousin! You have scanned him all your life, Little or much; I never saw his face. You have determined on a marriage -- used Deliberation therefore -- I'll believe No otherwise, with opportunity For judgment so abounding! Here stand I -- Summoned to give my sentence, for a whim, (Well, at first cloud-fleck thrown athwart your blue,) Judge what is strangeness' self to me, -- say 'Wed!' Or 'Wed not!' whom you promise I shall judge Presently, at propitious lunch-time, just While he carves chicken! Sends he leg for wing? That revelation into character And conduct must suffice me! Quite as well Consult with yonder solitary crow That eyes us from your elm-top!" "Still the same Do you remember, at the library We saw together somewhere, those two books Somebody said were notice-worthy? One Lay wide on table, sprawled its painted leaves For all the world's inspection; shut on shelf Reclined the other volume, closed, clasped locked -- Clear to be let alone. Which page had we Preferred the turning over of? You were, Are, ever will be the locked lady, hold Inside you secrets written, -- soul absorbed, My ink upon your blotting-paper. I -- What trace of you have I to show in turn? Delicate secrets! No one juvenile Ever essayed at croquet and performed Superiorly but I confided you The sort of hat he wore and hair it held. While you? One day a calm note comes by post -- 'I am just married, you may like to hear.' Most men would hate you, or they ought; we love What we fear, -- I do! 'Cold' I shall expect My cousin calls you. I -- dislike not him, But (if I comprehend what loving means) Love you immeasurably more -- more -- more Than even he who, loving you his wife, Would turn up nose at who impertinent, Frivolous, forward -- loves that excellence Of all the earth he bows in worship to! And who's this paragon of privilege? Simply a country parson: his the charm That worked the miracle! Oh, too absurd -- But that you stand before me as you stand! Such beauty does prove something, everything! Beauty's the prize-flower which dispenses eye From peering into what has nourished root -- Dew or manure: the plant best knows its place. Enough, from teaching youth and tending age And hearing sermons, -- haply writing tracts, -- From such strange love-besprinkled compost, lo, Out blows this triumph! Therefore love's the soil Plants find or fail of. You, with wit to find, Exercise wit on the old friend's behalf, Keep me from failure! Scan and scrutinize This cousin! Surely he's as worth your pains To study as my elm-tree, crow and all, You still keep staring at. I read your thoughts." "At last?" "At first! 'Would, tree, a-top of thee I winged were, like crow perched moveless there, And so could straightway soar, escape this bore, Back to my nest where broods whom I love best -- The parson o'er his parish -- garish -- rarish,' -- Oh, I could bring the rhyme in if I tried: The Album here inspires me! Quite apart From lyrical expression, have I read The stare aright, and sings not soul just so?" "Or rather so? 'Cool comfortable elm That men make coffins out of, -- none for me At the expense, so thou permit I glide Under my ferny feet, and there sleep, sleep, Nor dread awaking though in heaven itself!'" The younger looks with face struck sudden white. The elder answers its inquiry. "Dear, You are a guesser, not a 'clairvoyante.' I'll so far open you the locked and shelved Volume, my soul, that you desire to see, As let you profit by the title-page" -- "Paradise Lost?" "Inferno! -- All which comes Of tempting me to break my vow. Stop here! Friend, whom I love the best in the whole world, Come at your call, be sure that I will do All your requirement -- see and say my mind. It may be that by sad apprenticeship I have a keener sense: I'll task the same. Only indulge me, -- here let sight and speech Happen, -- this Inn is neutral ground, you know! I cannot visit the old house and home, Encounter the old sociality Abjured forever. Peril quite enough In even this first -- last, I pray it prove -- Renunciation of my solitude! Back, you, to house and cousin! Leave me here, Who want no entertainment, carry still My occupation with me. While I watch The shadow inching round those ferny feet, Tell him 'A school-friend wants a word with me Up at the inn: time, tide, and train won't wait: I must go see her -- on and off again -- You'll keep me company?' Ten minutes' talk, With you in presence, ten more afterward With who, alone, convoys me station-bound, And I see clearly -- and say honestly To-morrow: pen shall play tongue's part, you know. Go -- quick! for I have made our hand-in-hand Return impossible. So scared you look, -- If cousin does not greet you with 'What ghost Has crossed your path?' I set him down obtuse." And after one more look, with face still white, The younger does go, while the elder stands Occupied by the elm at window there. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TWO SONNETS: 1 by DAVID LEHMAN THE ILLUSTRATION?ÇÖA FOOTNOTE by DENISE LEVERTOV FALLING ASLEEP OVER THE AENEID by ROBERT LOWELL POETRY MACHINES by CATE MARVIN LENDING LIBRARY by PHYLLIS MCGINLEY CHILDE ROLAND TO THE DARK TOWER CAME' by ROBERT BROWNING |
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