Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, GRISELDA GOOSE, by PHOEBE CARY


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

GRISELDA GOOSE, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: Near to a farm-house, and bordered round
Last Line: "though it sticks in my crop to speak it!"
Subject(s): Geese


NEAR to a farm-house, and bordered round
By a meadow, sweet with clover,
There lay as clear and smooth a pond
As ever a goose swam over.

The farmer had failures in corn and hops,
From drought and various reasons;
But his geese had never failed in their crops
In the very worst of seasons.

And he had a flock, that any day
Could defy all sneers and slanders;
They were certainly handsome, -- that is to say,
They were handsome for geese and ganders!

And, once upon a time, in spring,
A goose hatched out another, --
The softest, cunningest, downiest thing,
That ever gladdened a mother.

There was never such a gosling born,
So the geese cried out by dozens;
She was praised and petted, night and morn,
By aunts, and uncles, and cousins.

She must have a name with a lofty sound,
Said all, when they beheld her;
So they proudly led her down to the pond,
And christened her, Griselda!

Now you think, no doubt, such love and pride,
Must perfectly content her;
That she grew to goosehood satisfied
To be what Nature meant her.

But folk with gifts will find it out,
Though the world neglects that duty;
And a lovely female will seldom doubt,
Though others may, her beauty!

And if she had thought herself a fright,
And been content with her station,
She wouldn't have had a story to write,
Nor I, my occupation.

But indeed the truth compels me to own,
Whoever may be offended,
That my heroine's vanity was shown
Ere her gosling days were ended.

When the mother tried to teach the art
Of swimming to her daughter,
She said that she didn't like to start,
Because it ruffled the water.

"My stars!" cried the parent, "do I dream,
Or do I rightly hear her?
Can it be she would rather sit still on the stream,
Than spoil her beautiful mirror?"

Yet, if any creature could be so fond
Of herself, as to reach insanity,
A goose, who lives on a glassy pond,
Has most excuse for such vanity!

And I do not agree with those who said
They would glory in her disgraces;
Hers isn't the only goose's head
That ever was turned by praises.

And Griselda swallowed all their praise:
Though she said to her doting mother,
"Still, a goose is a goose, to the end of her days,
From one side of the world to the other!

"And as to my name it is well enough
To say, or sing, or whistle;
But you just wait till I'm old and tough,
And you'll see they will call me Gristle!"

So she went, for the most of the time, alone,
Because she was such a scoffer;
And, awful to tell! she was nearly grown
Before she received an offer!

"Nobody will have her, that is clear,"
Said those who spitefully eyed her;
Though they knew every gander, far and near,
Was dying to waddle beside her.

And some of those that she used to slight,
Now come to matronly honor,
Began to feel that they had a right
To quite look down upon her.

And some she had jilted were heard to declare,
"I do not understand her;
And I shouldn't wonder, and shouldn't care,
If she never got a gander!"

But she said so all could overhear, --
And she hoped their ears might tingle, --
"If she couldn't marry above their sphere,
She preferred remaining single!"

She was praised and flattered to her face,
And blamed when she was not present;
And between her friends and foes, her place
Was anything but pleasant.

One day she learned what gave her a fright,
And a fit of deep dejection;
And she said to herself, that come what might,
She would cut the whole connection.

The farmer's wife to the geese proposed,
Their spending the day in the stable;
And the younger ones, left out, supposed
She would set an extra table.

So they watched and waited till day was done,
With curiosity burning;
For it wasn't till after set of sun,
That they saw them back returning.

Slowly they came, and each was bowed
As if some disgrace was upon her;
They didn't look as those who are proud
Of an unexpected honor!

Each told the naked truth: 't was a shock,
But who that saw, could doubt her?
They had plucked the pluckiest goose of the flock,
Of all the down about her.

Said Miss Griselda, "That's my doom,
If I stay another season;"
So she thought she'd leave her roosting room;
And I think she had some reason.

Besides, there was something else she feared;
For oft in a kind of flurry,
A goose mysteriously disappeared,
And didn't come back in a hurry.

And scattered afterwards on the ground, --
Such things there is no mistaking, --
Familiar looking bones were found,
Which set her own a quaking.

She said, "There is danger if I stay,
From which there are none exempted;
So, though I perish in getting away,
The thing shall be attempted."

And, perfectly satisfied about
Her claims to a foreign mission,
She slipped away, and started out
On a secret expedition.

And oh! how her bosom swelled with pride;
How eager hope upbore her;
As floating down the stream, she spied
A broad lake spread before her.

And bearing towards her, fair and white,
The pleasant breezes courting,
A flock of swans came full in sight,
On the crystal waters sporting.

She saw the lake spread clear and wide,
And the rich man's stately dwelling,
And felt the thrill of hope and pride
Her very gizzard swelling.

"These swans," she said, "are quite unknown,
Even to their ranks and stations;
Yet I think I need not fear to own
Such looking birds for relations.

"Besides, no birds that walk on lawns
Are made for common uses;
Men do not take their pick of swans
In the way they do of gooses.

"Blanch Swan! I think I'll take that name,
Nor be ashamed to wear it;
Griselda Goose! that sounds so tame
And low, I cannot bear it!"

Thought she, the brave deserve to win,
And only they can do it:
So she made her plan, and sailed right in,
Determined to go through it.

Straight up she went to the biggest swan,
The one who talked the loudest;
For she knew the secret of getting on
Was standing up with the proudest.

"Madam," she said, "I am glad you're home,
And I hope to know you better;
You're an aunt of mine, I think, but I come
With an introductory letter."

Then she fumbled, and said, "I've lost the thing!
No matter! I can quote it;
And here's the pen," and she raised her wing,
"With which Lord Swansdown wrote it.

"Of course you never heard of me,
As I'm rather below your station;
But a lady famed like yourself, you see,
Is known to all creation."

Then to herself the old swan said,
"Such talk's not reprehensible;
Indeed, for a creature country-bred,
She's very shrewd and sensible."

Griselda saw how her flattery took,
And cried, on the silence breaking,
"You see I have the family look,
My neck there is no mistaking.

"It doesn't compare with yours; you know
I've a touch of the democracy;
While your style and manner plainly show
Your perfect aristocracy."

Such happy flattery did the thing:
Though the young swans doubtfully eyed her,
My Lady took her under her wing,
And kept her close beside her.

And Griselda tried at ease to appear,
And forget the home she had quitted;
For she told herself she had reached a sphere
At last for which she was fitted.

Though she had some fits of common sense,
And at times grew quite dejected;
For she wasn't deceived by her own pretense,
And she knew what others suspected.

If ever she went alone to stray,
Some pert young swan to tease her
Would ask, in a patronizing way,
If their poor home didn't please her?

Sometimes when a party went to sail
On the lake, in pleasant weather,
As if she was not within the pale,
She was left out altogether.

And then she would take a haughty tone,
As if she scorned them, maybe;
But often she hid in the weeds alone,
And cried like a homesick baby.

One day when she had gone to her room,
With the plea that she was ailing,
They asked some rather gay birds to come
For the day, and try the sailing.

But they said, "She will surely hear the stir,
So we'll have to let her know it;
Of course we are all ashamed of her,
But it will not do to show it."

So one of them went to her, and said,
With a sort of stately rustle:
"I suppose you would rather spare your head
Than join in our noise and bustle!

"If you wish to send the slightest excuse,
I'll be very happy to take it;
And I hope you're not such a little goose
As to hesitate to make it!"

Too well Griselda understood;
And said, "Though my pain's distressing,
I think the change will do me good,
And I do not mind the dressing."

'T was the "little goose" that made her mad,
So mad she wouldn't refuse her;
Though she saw from the first how very glad
Her friend would be to excuse her.

She had overdone the thing, poor swan!
As her ill success had shown her;
Shot quite beyond the mark, and her gun
Recoiled and hit the owner.

"Don't you think," she cried, "I've done my best;
But as sure as I'm a sinner,
That little dowdy, frightfully dressed,
Is coming down to dinner!

"I tried in every way to show
That I thought it an impropriety;
But I s'pose the creature doesn't know
The manners of good society!"

Griselda thought, "If it comes to that,
With the weapon she takes I'll meet her.
She's sharp, but I'll give her tit for tat,
And I think that I can beat her."

So she came among them quite at ease,
By her very look contriving
To say, "I'm certain there's nothing could please
You so much as my arriving."

And her friend contrived to whisper low,
As she made her genuflexion:
"A country cousin of ours, you know;
A very distant connection!

"She hasn't much of an air, you see,
And is rather new to the city;
Aunt took her up quite from charity,
And keeps her just from pity."

But Griselda paid her, fair and square,
For all her sneers and scorning;
And "the fete was quite a successful affair,"
So the papers said next morning.

And yet she cried at the close of day,
Till the lake almost ran over,
To think what a price she had to pay
To get into a sphere above her.

"Alas!" she said, "that our common sense
Should be lost when others flatter;
I was born a goose, and no pretense
Will change or help the matter!"

At last she did nothing but mope and fret,
And think of effecting a clearance!
She got as low as a lady can get, --
She didn't regard her appearance!

She got her pretty pink slippers soiled
By wearing them out in bad weather;
And as for her feathers, they were not oiled
Sometimes for a week together.

Had she seen just how to bring it about,
She would have left in a minute;
But she found it was harder getting out
Of trouble than getting in it.

She looked down at the fish with envious eyes,
Because each mother's daughter,
Content in her element, never tries
To keep her head above water!

She wished she was by some good luck,
Turned into a salmon finny;
Into a chicken, or into a duck:
She wished herself in Guinea.

One day the Keeper came to the lake,
And if he didn't dissemble,
She saw that to her he meant to take,
In a way that made her tremble.

With a chill of fear her feathers shook,
Although to her friend she boasted
He had such a warm, admiring look,
That she feared she should be roasted;

And that for very modesty's sake,
Since nothing else could shield her,
She would go to the other end of the lake,
And stay till the night concealed her.

So, taking no leave, she stole away,
And nobody cared or missed her;
But the geese on the pond were surprised, next day,
By the sight of their missing sister.

She told them she strayed too far and got lost;
And though being from home had pained her,
Some wealthy friends that she came across,
Against her will detained her.

But it leaked from the lake, or a bird of the air
Had carried to them the matter;
For even before her, her story was there,
And they all looked doubtfully at her.

Poor Griselda! unprotected, alone,
By their slights and sneers was nettled;
For all the friends that her youth had known
Were respectably married and settled;

Or all but one, -- a poor old coot,
That she used to scorn for a lover;
He was shabbier now, and had lost a foot,
That a cart-wheel had run over.

But she said, "There is but one thing to be done
For stopping sneers and slanders;
For a lame excuse is better than none,
And so is the lamest of ganders!"

So she married him, but do you know,
They did not cease to flout her;
For she somehow couldn't make it go
With herself, nor those about her.

They spoke of it with scornful lip,
Though they didn't exactly drop her;
As if 't was a limited partnership,
And not a marriage proper.

And yet in truth I'm bound to say
Her state was a little better;
Though I heard her friend say yesterday
To another one, who met her, --

"Oh, I saw old Gristle Goose to-night,
(Of course I did not seek it);
I suppose she is really Mrs. White,
Though it sticks in my crop to speak it!"





Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!


Other Poems of Interest...
Home: PoetryExplorer.net