Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE FAMILY: 2. THE DAUGHTER, TEUILA, NATIVE NAME FOR ADORNER, by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Man, child, or woman, none from her Last Line: Matron and child, my friend and scribe! Alternate Author Name(s): Stevenson, Robert Lewis Balfour Subject(s): Daughters; Family Life; Relatives | ||||||||
2 THE DAUGHTER, TEULIA, NATIVE NAME FOR ADORNER Man, child or woman, none from her, The insatiable embellisher, Escapes! She leaves, where'er she goes, A wreath, a ribbon, or a rose: A bow or else a button changed, Two hairs coquettishly deranged, Some vital trifle takes the eye And shows the adorner has been by. Is fortune more obdurate grown? And does she leave my dear alone With none to adorn, none to caress? Straight on her proper loveliness She broods and lingers, cuts and carves With combs and brushes, rings and scarves. The treasure of her hair she takes; Therewith a new presentment makes. Babe, Goddess, Naiad of the grot, And weeps if any like it not! Her absent, she shall still be found, A posse of native maids around Her and her whirring instrument Collected and on learning bent. Oft clustered by her tender knees (Smiling himself) the gazer sees, Compact as flowers in garden beds, The smiling faces and shaved heads Of the brown island babes: with whom She exults to decorate her room, To draw them, cheer them when they cry, And still to pet and prettify. Or see, as in a looking-glass Her graceful, dimpled person pass, Nought great therein but eyes and hair, On her true business here and there; Her huge, half-naked Staff, intent, See her review and regiment, An ant with elephants, and how A smiling mouth, a clouded brow, Satire and turmoil, quips and tears, She deals among her grenadiers! Her pantry and her kitchen squad, Six-footers all, hang on her nod, Incline to her their martial chests, With school-boy laughter hail her jests, And do her in her kilted dress Obsequious obeisances. But rather to behold her when She plies for me the unresting pen! And while her crimson blood peeps out Hints a suggestion, halts a doubt -- Laughs at a jest; or with a shy Glance of a parti-coloured eye Half brown, half gold, approves, delights And warms the slave for whom she writes! So dear, may you be never done Your pretty, busy round to run. And show, with changing frocks and scents, Your ever-varying lineaments, Your saucy step, your languid grace, Your sullen and your smiling face, Sound sense, true valour, baby fears, And bright unreasonable tears: The Hebe of our ageing tribe: Matron and child, my friend and scribe! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MY AUNT ELLA MAE by MICHAEL S. HARPER THE GOLDEN SHOVEL by TERRANCE HAYES LIZARDS AND SNAKES by ANTHONY HECHT THE BOOK OF A THOUSAND EYES: I LOVE by LYN HEJINIAN CHILD ON THE MARSH by ANDREW HUDGINS MY MOTHER'S HANDS by ANDREW HUDGINS PLAYING DEAD by ANDREW HUDGINS THE GLASS HAMMER by ANDREW HUDGINS INSECT LIFE OF FLORIDA by LYNDA HULL A GOOD PLAY by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON |
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