Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, ON THE ROAD, by WILFRID WILSON GIBSON


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

ON THE ROAD, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: Marrried!' he says
Last Line: [he leads them to the turning of the road.]


Persons:

REUBEN APPLEBY.
JESSIE APPLEBY, his wife.
PETER NIXON, a stonebreaker.

REUBEN APPLEBY and his wife sit under a hedge by the
highway. REUBEN is eating bread and cheese, while
JESSIE is feeding her baby with milk out of a bottle.

REUBEN. "Married!" he says,
And looks at me quite sharply --
"A boy like you!"
And civilly I answered:
"Not such a boy, sir;
I am nineteen, past."
"Nineteen!" says he, and laughs;
"And you a husband, with a wife to keep --
A wife and family, I suppose."
"We have a baby, sir."
"A baby! and you're just a child yourself!
What right have you to marry,
And bring into the world
A tribe of helpless children
To starve, and beg, and steal?"
With that he took his children by the hand,
And walked away.
I could have flung his money after him,
But I had laboured for it
And was hungry,
And knew that you were famished;
And the boy must have his milk.
What right! --
I could have flung...
JESSIE. Then, you had flung away
Your baby's life!
REUBEN. Ay, lass, that stopt me,
And the thought of you;
And so, I took the sixpence,
And bought the bread and cheese and milk.
JESSIE. You brought it just in time.
He'd cried himself to sleep;
But in my arms he lay so still and white,
That I was frightened.
REUBEN. You were famished, lass.
JESSIE. Yes; I was done.
I scarce could hold him,
Though he's light --
So thin and light.
But, when I laid him down, he cried so,
I could not bear...
REUBEN. Well, he looks happy now.
He's drinking like a fish.
The milk will make him fat again.
But you eat nothing, Jessie.
JESSIE. I cannot eat.
REUBEN. You cannot?
JESSIE. Not just now.
REUBEN. Jessie, you must;
You'll die of hunger.
JESSIE. I'm not hungry now;
But only weary.
After, perhaps...
REUBEN. What right had I to marry!
What right had he --
He, with his wife and children,
To speak to me like that?
I could have flung...
JESSIE. Nay, lad; don't vex yourself
With thought of such as he.
How can it matter what he said to you,
Now that it's over,
And the boy is fed?
REUBEN. His money bought the milk --
Ay, and the bread and cheese.
JESSIE. And do they not taste sweet?
You seem to relish them.
REUBEN. They're well enough.
But, would not any food taste sweet,
After starvation?
And I'd worked for it.
JESSIE. How could it be his money,
If you'd earned it?
REUBEN. True, lass.
Still, you eat nothing.
JESSIE. I cannot eat.
REUBEN. It's ill work tramping all the livelong day,
With naught but hunger in the belly,
As we did yesterday;
And then, at night,
To shelter 'neath a stack;
And lie, and think --
Too cold and tired to sleep --
To lie, and think,
And wonder if to-morrow
Would bring us bite and sup;
Envying the very beasts that they could feed
Upon the hay that bedded us.
And still, 'twas good to rest
From tramping the hard road.
But, you were plucky, lass;
And trudged so bravely.
JESSIE. Yet I could have dropped,
Had I not hoped to get him milk ere night.
REUBEN. Poor babe!
He cried all day.
My sleeve was wet with tears.
JESSIE. 'Twas a hard road, and long.
REUBEN. The road is hard and long the poor must travel.
JESSIE. Ay, and the end?
REUBEN. The end?
Where the end lies, who knows?

[A pause.]

Wife, he spake truly;
I'd no right to marry --
No right to wed, and bring into the world...
JESSIE. What's that you say?
You're wearied of me, husband?
REUBEN. Nay, wife, you know...
Still, he spake truly.
I never thought of it like this before;
I never should have thought of it at all,
Had he not spoken;
I'd not wits enough.
But now, I see;
I had no right to marry,
And bring into the world
A baby...
JESSIE. Don't you love your son?
REUBEN. Love him!
I wouldn't see him starve.
I had no right...
Yet, when we married,
Things looked so different, Jessie.
I earned my weekly wage,
Enough to live on,
And to keep a wife on;
And we were happy in our home,
Together, weren't we, wife?
JESSIE. Ay, we were happy, Reuben.
REUBEN. And then, the baby came,
And we were happier still;
For, how could we foresee
Bad times would follow,
And work be slack;
And all the mills be stopt;
And we be bundled out of house and home,
With naught to do
But take the road,
And look for work elsewhere?
It's a long looking...
Nay, but he spake truly...
I had no right...
JESSIE. Nay, Reuben, you talk foolishness;
Your head is light with fasting.
An empty belly makes an empty head.
Leave idle talking to the rich;
A poor man can't afford it.
And I've no patience with such folly.
REUBEN. Nay, it's not folly, lass,
But truth, the bitter truth.
Is it not true, we're on the road,
I, and my starving wife and babe?
JESSIE. Nay, husband; see!
He's drunk the milk;
And sleeps so sweetly.
REUBEN. But you're ill.
JESSIE. Ill?
Nay, I'm well enough.
REUBEN. Yet you're too ill to eat.
JESSIE. Nay, I was only tired.
But I'll eat now, lad,
If you've left me aught!
See how it goes!
REUBEN. I had no right...
JESSIE. Not if you did not love me!
REUBEN. You know...
JESSIE. How can I tell?
You talk so strangely;
And say that you'd no right to wed me...
Why did you wed me, then?
REUBEN. Because I couldn't help...
I could not do without you.
I did not think...
How could I think, when I was mad for you?
JESSIE. And yet you had no right?
REUBEN. Right! What thought I of right?
I only thought of you, lass.
Nay, but I did not think...
I only felt,
And knew I needs must have you.
JESSIE. You loved me...
Then, was love not right enough?
Why talk of right?
Or, have you wearied of us --
Your wife and son?
Poor babe!
He doesn't love us any longer.
REUBEN. Nay, wife, you know...

[PETER NIXON, an elderly man, gaunt and bent with
labour, comes slowly down the road, with his
stonebreaker's hammer on his shoulder. He glances at
REUBEN and JESSIE, in passing; hesitates, then turns,
and comes towards them.]

PETER. Fine morning, mate and mistress!
Might you be looking for a job, my lad?
Well ... there's a heap of stones to break, down yonder.
I was just on my way...
But I am old:
And, maybe, a bit idle;
And you look young,
And not afraid of work,
Or I'm an ill judge of a workman's hands.
And when the job's done, lad,
There'll be a shilling.
And there's worse work than breaking stones for bread.
And I'll just have a nap,
While you are busy,
And, maybe, sleep away the afternoon,
Like the old, idle rascal that I am.
Nay, but there's naught to thank me for.
I'm old;
And I've no wife and children,
And so, don't need the shilling.
But you are young;
And you must work for it,
While I sit by and watch you
And keep you at it.
I like to watch folk working,
For I am old and idle.
Perhaps I'll sleep a bit, with one eye open;
And when you think I'm nodding,
I'll come down on you like a load of metal.
Don't fear!
I'll make you earn it;
You'll have to sweat,
Before that shilling's yours;
Unless you're proud --
Too proud to work...
Nay?
Well, the heap's down yonder --
There, at the turning.
Ah, the bonnie babe!
We had no children, mistress.
And what can any old man do with shillings,
With no one but himself to spend them on --
An idle, good-for-nothing, lone old man?

[He leads them to the turning of the road.]





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