Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE ANGEL IN THE HOUSE: BOOK 1. CANTO 5. THE VIOLETS, by COVENTRY KERSEY DIGHTON PATMORE Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: I went not to the dean's unbid Last Line: The violets lay, two white, one blue. Subject(s): Flowers; Violets | ||||||||
1 I went not to the Dean's unbid: I would not have my mystery, From her so delicately hid, The guess of gossips at their tea. A long, long week, and not once there, Had made my spirit sick and faint, And lack-love, foul as love is fair, Perverted all things to complaint. How vain the world had grown to be! How mean all people and their ways, How ignorant their sympathy, And how impertinent their praise; What they for virtuousness esteem'd, How far removed from heavenly right; What pettiness their trouble seem'd, How undelightful their delight; To my necessity how strange The sunshine and the song of birds; How dull the clouds' continual change, How foolishly content the herds; How unaccountable the law Which bade me sit in blindness here, While she, the sun by which I saw, Shed splendour in an idle sphere! And then I kiss'd her stolen glove, And sigh'd to reckon and define The modes of martyrdom in love, And how far each one might be mine. I thought how love, whose vast estate Is earth and air and sun and sea, Encounters oft the beggar's fate, Despised on score of poverty; How Heaven, inscrutable in this, Lets the gross general make or mar The destiny of love, which is So tender and particular; How nature, as unnatural And contradicting nature's source, Which is but love, seems most of all Well-pleased to harry true love's course; How, many times, it comes to pass That trifling shades of temperament, Affecting only one, alas, Not love, but love's success prevent; How manners often falsely paint The man; how passionate respect, Hid by itself, may bear the taint Of coldness and a dull neglect; And how a little outward dust Can a clear merit quite o'ercloud, And make her fatally unjust, And him desire a darker shroud; How senseless opportunity Gives baser men the better chance; How powers, adverse else, agree To cheat her in her ignorance; How Heaven its very self conspires With man and nature against love, As pleased to couple cross desires, And cross where they themselves approve. Wretched were life, if the end were now! But this gives tears to dry despair, Faith shall be blest, we know not how, And love fulfill'd, we know not where. 2 While thus I grieved, and kiss'd her glove, My man brought in her note to say, Papa had bid her send his love, And would I dine with them next day? They had learn'd and practised Purcell's glee, To sing it by to-morrow night. The Postscript was: Her sisters and she Inclosed some violets, blue and white; She and her sisters found them where I wager'd once no violets grew; So they had won the gloves. And there The violets lay, two white, one blue. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HEAVY VIOLETS by BARBARA GUEST THE YELLOW VIOLET by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT WAR IS KIND: 23 by STEPHEN CRANE SONNET by ALICE RUTH MOORE DUNBAR-NELSON HOW VIOLETS CAME BLUE by ROBERT HERRICK UNDER THE VIOLETS by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES THE FADED VIOLET by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH A LONDON FETE by COVENTRY KERSEY DIGHTON PATMORE |
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