Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE CHILD OF GOD, by LOUISE DRISCOLL


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE CHILD OF GOD, by                    
First Line: He's late again tonight
Last Line: Can't you --
Subject(s): Man-woman Relationships; Male-female Relations


MRS. DEAN

He's late again tonight,
Supper's all ready, I'll turn up the light.
There, that's what I call cheerful! I can't see
Why he should hate it so. It seems to me
He's growing finicking. The lamp's too bright,
This thing is ugly, that thing isn't right.
I've never taught him so. I've always said,
"Be thankful that the Lord sends Daily Bread."
He doesn't seem to hear me any more.
(There is a sound of footsteps and Mrs. Dean raises her voice.)
Is that you, John?
Be sure to wipe your feet and shut the door!
(There is a light rap and then the door opens slowly and a woman enters. She
is short and plump and is dressed in a fashion a little old. She carries a few
bundles. She is Mrs. Carson, a neighbor.)

MRS. CARSON

May I come in? I was just going by,
When you turned up the light.
Tom's come home unexpected and I had
To run out to the store to get an extra bite.
I don't eat much when I'm alone --

MRS. DEAN

Will Tom stay with you now?

MRS. CARSON

Oh, mercy, no! He's got a place down there.
Tom's doing well. He's just run home to see
His mother over Sunday.

MRS. DEAN

It seems to me
It isn't always mothers that they come to see.

MRS. CARSON

(Smiling but watchful)

Oh, Tom don't care for Irma any more!
I'm glad of that. Irma's all right.
She's pretty and all that, but kind of light.
They say she's going to marry Henry Ware.
Tom told me and he said he didn't care.

MRS. DEAN

(Interested, she speaks tensely)

You're sure of that? You know
What you are saying?

MRS. CARSON

Oh, I guess it's so!
I've seen him going there a lot of late,
And watched them kind of lingering at the gate.
I must be going now. Tom will be home.
He went down street to see what he could see.
He likes to meet folks. Tell your John for me
He must run over when he can. He's got the time.
Most of the boys are busy with some work,
But John's the gentleman! My Tom's a clerk
In a big hardware store at Everston.

MRS. DEAN

(Unmoved)

You know what John is. You know very well
He is the Lord's. And I don't need to tell
That he's to preach the Gospel. In the Fall
He goes to Hartford. He's to study there.
I've planned it all.
(Mrs. Carson is restless while Mrs. Dean is speaking. She is timid, but as
Mrs. Dean pauses, she summons her courage and speaks earnestly)

MRS. CARSON

I've heard folks say that John don't want to preach.
Are you quite sure you're right to push him so?
Why do you urge him if he doesn't want to go?

MRS. DEAN

(Stiffly)

You're very kind, I'm sure. I'm very sure
That you mean to be kind, so I endure
What you are bold to say.

MRS. CARSON

I know I'm kind of awkward. What I've come to say
Don't seem to come easy. It's hard, someway,
To talk about real things, but this is one
I feel I've got to talk about, and now that I've begun
I guess I'll say it quick. My Tom wants John to go
Back to Everston with him. He's got a job for John.
He knows about Irma -- he understands. And so --

MRS. DEAN

(Interrupting her)

Before my son was born I made a plan with God.
I said, "Oh God, when my son is a man,
His voice shall praise Thee. I give him to be
Thy minister, oh Lord! Take him from me!"
I've always told John that. John knows he is
The Child of God. John knows that he's to preach.
He will begin to study in the Fall.

MRS. CARSON

(No longer timid, speaks with feeling)

You must know about Irma! She is queer
Some way. There's something makes her dear
To all the young men. It's kind of hard to say
Just what it is. She's got a pretty way
Her hair's all curly -- she's got dimpled hands --

MRS. DEAN

What's that to do with what the Lord commands?

MRS. CARSON

Has God said anything? Or is it you
Who want your own way? Oh! why won't you let
John go away with Tom. He will forget
And care less, as Tom does.

MRS. DEAN

You're very kind, but you don't understand.
I never liked Irma.

MRS. CARSON

What has that to do
With young men's liking? Do you think that you
Can think and feel for John as well as plan?
You seem to forget that your John's a man!

MRS. DEAN

He is the Child of God. I've given him.

(Mrs. Carson rises. She draws her coat together, preparing to leave. She
sighs a little)

MRS. CARSON

I'm sorry, very sorry. Well, good-night.
I wish you'd listen and I've meant all right.
(She lingers at the door for an instant)
Good-night.
(She goes out, shutting the door softly behind her. Mrs. Dean stands rigid for
a moment and then turns with a rapt smile.)

MRS. DEAN

She cannot understand. She never gave
A son to God. The souls that John shall save
Will pass before her in their white array
Upon the Judgment Day. There's John's step now --
Oh, God! Don't let him care! God, take my part!
Tear Irma Willett's face out of his heart!

(John enters with his hands full of wild flowers.)

JOHN

Aren't they lovely, Mother? Every one of them
A chalice with a drop of flower wine.
What silversmith can make a cup like that?
The workman was divine!
See how they're touched with color.
What a wrist that is!
It turns a light brush quickly
And paints anemones.

MRS. DEAN

They fall so. Look -- they're all over the floor!
I've work enough to do! No -- it's all right.
I don't mind clearing up
After my son. Why are you late tonight?

JOHN

Haven't you seen the sunset? The sun's a scarlet rose
Laid on the edge of the world. No painter knows
Such vehement color on color as clouds that come
To gather the rose in their hands and carry it home.

MRS. DEAN

It is the sun and the sky that the Lord has made.
The Heavens declare his glory --

MRS. DEAN

(Smiling)

And you pull down the shade.

MRS. DEAN

(Shocked)

My son!

JOHN

But Mother, you do!
You have pulled the shade at those windows lest
The glory of God shine through.
Have you looked on the hills tonight? God has lifted the shade
To let us see into the workshop where glory is made!

MRS. DEAN

I don't like to hear you talk so! I wish that you
Would talk like other folks do!
(John seats himself at the table and begins to arrange his flowers in a glass
of water there.)

JOHN

You'd like to have me quote from some old hymns,
Use phrases of a people I don't know,
Say things I don't believe or that are no longer so,
(He smiles a little to soften his words.)
Speak of Bible flowers that can't litter your floor,
I'm sorry, Mother, but that's all too far away.
These little, scented blossoms that I found today
Are lovely as any lilies that Jesus ever found
When he walked through the fields of Palestine,
Or looked on the hills around
About the city of Jerusalem. I am not a Jew.
I'm a New England village boy some power is singing through.
Life is very wonderful. These are my fields and trees,
My little, friendly rivers that run to meet my seas.
"This is the day the Lord has made,"
The same Lord that made me --
Made me myself -- gave me my singing soul!
He made the world, green growing, set my feet
To walk in it! To go out into it!

MRS. DEAN

(Steadily)

You are going to Hartford to study theology.

JOHN

I'm awfully sorry, Mother, but you can't plan my life for me.

MRS. DEAN

I vowed it before you were born, John.
To God I've given my word.
You are to preach the Lord --

JOHN

I'll sing the Lord.

MRS. DEAN

Your songs are impious. You twist truth about.
You make things different. Your songs are strange.
You cover sacred things with a shadow of doubt.
You are deaf to the voice of the Lord.

JOHN

No, Mother, you're wrong.
I've heard God saying
"Sing unto me a new song!"

MRS. DEAN

I prayed over you in your cradle, when you were a little boy;
I gave you a pictured Bible instead of a foolish toy --

JOHN

(Wistfully)

But, Mother, I wanted the toy.
I was only a little boy.

MRS. DEAN

(Ignoring him)

I sat by you hour after hour, reading the old, sweet hymns.

JOHN

Yes, I learned rhythm from them. Some of them thrill me yet,
But some are pretty bad poems, words that are clumsily set
To fasten a half truth into a mind that can only half forget.

MRS. DEAN

My prayers have come to this! My word to God!
The wine of my soul is spilled on the earth and trod
Under the feet of him who was to be
My gift to God!

JOHN

Won't you listen, Mother? It seems to me
That you won't think and you won't let me think.
You speak of wine, and yet you call strong drink
The brew of Hell. And you want me to vote
To make all wine illegal in the State.
What does wine mean to you or to your soul?
You use the eastern image two thousand years too late.
We in New England villages don't think in terms of wine.
We work for prohibition. And that's what I mean.
I want to get away from words that are
No longer full of meaning, thoughts that bar
My soul in its free flight into blue Heaven.
I'm sorry, Mother, but it must be so,
The time has come when you must let me go.

(They stand looking at one another and neither shows any sign of yielding.
There is a sound of footsteps at the door and a hurried knocking. After an
instant's pause, Mrs. Dean goes slowly to the door and opens it. Tom Carson and
Irma Willett enter. They are agitated.)

IRMA

Oh, it isn't true!
Oh, I'm so glad! They told me it was you
And I ran all the way.

TOM

You went along the river bank today?
Under the willows? Someone saw you there
Sitting alone. There's been a big landslide.
Sid Jenkins sent down there and found a man had died.
He was all crushed. Ugh! It was horrible!

IRMA

I thought that it was you!

JOHN

I'm sorry you were frightened, Irma dear,
But you'd no reason. I was safely here.

MRS. DEAN

(Passionate, exalted)

Now will you see the Lord's hand in your life
Pointing your duty clear?
You are spared to do his will and naught beside!

JOHN

But Mother, what of the fellow who has died?

IRMA

(Growing a little shy)

I must go now. You see, Mrs. Dean,
I only came because someone had seen
John sitting there by the old willow trees.
I was so frightened -- fearing -- Ah, John, please,
Please let me go.

JOHN

Let me thank you, Irma. This will comfort me
When nights seem long. I'm going away tomorrow.

MRS. DEAN

Piling sorrow on his mother's sorrow!
Better far that he
Should lie there dead by the old willow tree!

TOM

Oh, but that is dreadful, Mrs. Dean!
You mustn't talk like that, for you can't mean
What you are saying. John saved me
When I was headed straight for death and Hell
He made me feel ashamed. He made me see
Just what a fool I was. I went away
And fought it out. That's why I'm here today.
I've got a job for John in Everston.
I'd be so proud to have John there!
I'd be proud of John anywhere!

MRS. DEAN

He is the Child of God, yet he denies
The Heavenly Fatherhood. All -- all my prayer
Is wasted on him. All my promises
Lie unfulfilled before the Lord Most High.
I vowed that he should preach --

IRMA

(Suddenly, forgetting herself)

Oh, I can't see why
God ever gave you John! You little, little soul!
You want to sit in some nice snug front pew
With all the congregation behind you
Saying "That's her son!" You want John to stand
Up in some pulpit, very black and grand,
Looking down on the people! John will go
As young King Saul went after his father's sheep,
The poor, lost sheep that needed the young Saul so!
And Saul found the word of God on the road -- on the road!
Not in any high pulpit, not in a fixed abode,
But out where lost sheep go by.
Oh, John's too big for us all! And I -- and I
Could kneel at his feet and worship him.
(She speaks more slowly, very tenderly)
Perhaps
That's why I can't love you, John, as I love Henry Ware.
I should always be at your feet and humble there.

JOHN

Don't grieve, dear. Don't you see
If you are happy, that's enough for me.
Tell Henry that I'll keep an eye on him!
(Gravely)
Mother can't understand. Her God is grim,
And strange and high and very far away,
Not having much to do with men today
Here in New England; speaking overseas
In phrases of a people unlike these
Who live with us. She is afraid
Of all the real things. She fears for me
Because I'm glad in all that has been made.
Glad in my own heart and unceasingly
At beauty of this sky and field and sea,
Glad that I'm young and glad that I am strong!
Glad in my own phrase and in my own song!

MRS. DEAN

He is breaking his mother's heart,
He is breaking his mother's vow.
He is choosing a life apart
From the things of God. He sings
Of wicked, heathen things.

JOHN

I'll make them all praise God,
Hill, river, road and tree,
Life, death, eternity!
Church, bank and byre and bin,
Above, below, without, within.
I'll make the oriole's wing a flaming sword!
I'll make Pan praise the Lord!

MRS. DEAN

And lose your soul!

IRMA

No -- no! And be made whole!
Find all the little truths we overlook.
Release the creed-bound beauty of the Book!
(There is a sound of people gathering outside, voices and footsteps. Tom
Carson goes to the door.)

TOM

(speaking to the people outside)

John's safe at home. Yes. John's all right.
Yes -- yes! We're glad! You'd better not come in.
We're coming out.
Come, Irma, and -- Good-night.
(He speaks to John.)
There's a great crowd out there. They were afraid
It was your body by the willow tree.
Go, speak to them. They love you. You have made
Friends of them all. And will you write to me
Once in a while? You know how glad I'd be
To hear from you? I will take Irma home.
(He pushes John gently toward the door. John goes out. The people can be
heard greeting him. Irma draws her light wrap about her shoulders and prepares
to go with Tom. She is watching Mrs. Dean intently and as she reaches the door
she turns to speak to the older woman who stands rigid, watching her.)

IRMA

Pray tonight, if you can.
Thank God you have brought a man
Into the world, a singing priest to reach
The hearts of other men.
We're too small, you and I, to love him as
He should be loved. We are too small
To understand it all.
But can't you love him more?
Oh, can't you
Love him as other mothers do?
And be a little -- kind --
Can't you --





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