Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY, by HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: Ah! What a world the words bring back
Last Line: The power above, controlling all.
Alternate Author Name(s): Dobson, Austin
Subject(s): Thackeray, William Makepeace (1811-1863)


AH! what a world the words bring back --
Those bald words in the Almanac!

Once more they come -- from days long fled --
The towering form, the grand white head;
The upturned look that seems to scent
The paltry and the fraudulent;
The kind eyes that too soon confess
Their sympathy with wretchedness;
Nor only these, but all the train
That issued from that teeming brain.

Trooping they enter, one by one,
Distinct and vivid, strangers none;
Nay -- if that can be -- better known
Than mortal kinsfolk of our own:
'Becky,' 'Amelia,' 'Dobbin,' 'Jos,'
'Pendennis,' 'Warrington,' and 'Cos' --
'Cos' with his 'oi' -- Pen's uncle too!
'Florac,' the Colonel, 'Ethel,' 'Kew,'
''Trix' and her mother, and not less
That later ''Trix' -- the Baroness.
'Esmond' of course, and 'George,' and 'Harry,'
The rogues and rascals -- 'Deuceace,' 'Barry,'
Evil or good, none immature,
From 'Yellowplush' to 'Barbazure';
None dimly seen or half-achieved,
Or drawn too vague to be believed;
But each, however small the role,
A thing complete, a finished whole.

These are no puppets, smartly drest,
But jerked by strings too manifest;
No dummies wearing surface skin
Without organic frame within;
Nor do they deal in words and looks
Found only in the story-books.
No! -- for these beings use their brains,
Have pulse and vigour in their veins;
They move, they act; they take and give
E'en as the master wills; they live --
Live to the limit of their scope,
Their anger, pleasure, terror, hope!

Because he touched the flaw in all,
There were who called him 'cynical';
Because his mood to pity leant,
They styled it 'mawkish sentiment';
Because -- disdaining to make light
Of wrong by treating it as right --
He probed the wound he saw exist,
They dubbed him 'heartless satirist'!

We have reversed all that to-day:
We know him better -- or we may.
We know he strove by ridicule
To shame the hypocrite and fool;
We know -- alike in age and youth --
He sought unshrinkingly for truth;
Made of no smallest virtue sport;
Loved honesty and good report;
Went manfully his destined way,
Doing, as far as in him lay,
His daily task without pretence --
With dignity and reticence.

Peace to his memory -- and his type!
Too rare, in times grown over-ripe!
Peace to his memory! Let him rest
Among our bravest and our best;
Secure, that through the years to come,
His voice shall speak, though he be dumb,
Since men unborn, or glad or vext,
Must need his Sermon and his Text.

He painted Life -- the life he knew:
The roundabout of false and true,
The ups-and-downs of good and bad,
The strange vicissitudes and sad,
The things unsolved, the seeming-chance
Complexities of Circumstance,
Yet failed not, humbly, to recall
The Power above, controlling all.





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