Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE FURNACE, by WILFRID WILSON GIBSON



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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE FURNACE, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: I heard the doctor go
Last Line: Child. He is not frightened now.


Persons:

JACOB PRINGLE, a stoker.
ELEANOR PRINGLE, his wife.
THEIR CHILDREN.
BESSIE PURDHAM, a neighbour.

Scene: A room in tenements. JACOB PRINGLE, his head and
body swathed in bandages, lies on the bed,
unconscious, moaning incessantly. ELEANOR PRINGLE,
with her young baby at her breast, stands near the
door, talking to BESSIE PURDHAM. The other two
children, aged three and two years, stand silent

BESSIE. I heard the doctor go;
And so I've come
To see if I may help you.
ELEANOR. There's nothing more to do.
BESSIE. I thought, perhaps...
ELEANOR. There's nothing more to do.
The doctor and the nurse did all they could,
Before they left.
They only went,
When they could do no good by staying.
They said they'd come again to-night,
If he ... if he...
BESSIE. Nay, don't take on so, woman.
Your man will soon be well again.
Keep a brave heart within you.
ELEANOR. The doctor says there's little hope.
BESSIE. 'Twas strange to bring him here.
ELEANOR. Here, to his home?
Does it seem strange to you
To bring him home?
Where would you have him taken?
They brought him home ... Ah, God!
BESSIE. The hospital...
ELEANOR. It was too far.
The doctor said:
'Twas not worth while
To take him such a journey,
When there was little hope.
And so,
They did not pass the door,
To bear him among strangers,
But brought him in,
And laid him on the bed.
'Twas not worth while...
And so they brought him home,
Home to his wife and children.
'Twas not worth while...
BESSIE. How did it happen?
ELEANOR. None can tell.
They found him on his face
Before the furnace-door,
The life well-nigh burnt out of him;
His head, and breast, and hands...
Oh, it's too terrible to think of, neighbour!
BESSIE. He must have fainted.
ELEANOR. None will ever know,
Unless...
But, he's not spoken since.
He only moans, and moans;
The doctor says that he's not conscious,
And cannot feel it much,
And mayn't come to himself again.
If he should never speak!
BESSIE. 'Twas strange that he...
He seemed so strong...
ELEANOR. They say his shovel
Had tumbled in the furnace, and the heat
Had crumpled it like paper;
And it was almost melted;
And he himself had only fallen short.
His head, and breast, and hands...
Oh, how he moans!
The doctor says he cannot feel much;
And still he moans, and moans.
He has not spoken...
If he should never speak...
If he should not come to himself...
If he ... Ah, God!
And he so young!
BESSIE. How old's your husband?
ELEANOR. Twenty-three next March.
BESSIE. So young! And you?
ELEANOR. Just twenty, turned.
BESSIE. Why, you are only children,
The pair of you!
ELEANOR. Yet he's a father,
I, a mother...
A father ... and his children --
What can his children do,
If he should leave them,
And they, but babes,
And Winter coming on?
BESSIE. He may be well before then;
And they've you.
ELEANOR. What can I do without him?
BESSIE. You can but do your best.
If only they'd been boys...
Still, keep a brave heart, woman;
For, surely, at the worst,
The masters will do something;
And there'll be money...
ELEANOR. Money ... woman ... money!
I want naught with their money.
I want my husband,
And my children's father.
Let them pitch all their money in the furnace
Where he...
I wouldn't touch a penny;
'Twould burn my fingers.
Money...
For him!
BESSIE. You wouldn't have your children starve?
Money is bread...
ELEANOR. Nay; but I'll work for them:
They shall not want,
While I can lift a finger.
He loves them,
And has slaved so hard for them.
If he can work no more,
Am I not strong to work?
He is so proud of them.
And oft when he comes home...
Ah, God, they brought him home!
And he has never spoken;
He has no word for them --
He who was always cheery,
And dandled them, and danced them,
And tossed them to the ceiling.
Look, how they wait, poor babes!
They cannot understand
Why he should say no word,
But only moan, and moan...
Ah, how he moans!
He tries to speak, I think.
If he should speak!
JACOB [in a hoarse whisper]. The big, red, gaping mouth...
ELEANOR. Ah, God, he's wandering!
BESSIE. He thinks he's at the furnace.
JACOB. I feed, and feed, and feed it,
And yet it's never full;
But always gaping, gaping,
And licking its red lips.
I feed it with my shovel,
All night long.
I shovel without ceasing;
But it just licks the coke up in a twinkling,
And roars, and roars for more.
I cannot feed it faster;
And it's angry.
I shovel all night long,
Till I can scarcely stand.
The sweat pours out of me;
And then it licks the sweat up with its breath,
And roars more fiercely.
My eyes are coals of fire;
My arms can scarcely lift
Another shovelful...
Oh, how it roars, and roars! It's angry
Because I cannot feed it fast enough.
The red tongue licks the shovel,
As though it would devour it.
The shovel is red-hot...
It melts ... it melts...
It's melting in my hands...
I cannot drop it...
My hands are full of molten iron.
Water ... Ah, God!
My hands ... my hands!
Oh!
ELEANOR. And there is nothing I can do for him!
I am his wife:
And still, I can do nothing.
The doctor said, there was no more to do.
They left me naught to do for him.
BESSIE. Nay, lass, there's nothing to be done.
He's quiet now.
Perhaps he'll sleep.
JACOB. The great, red eyes...
They burn me through and through.
They glare upon me all night long;
They never sleep:
But always glower on me.
They never even blink;
But stare, and stare...
I cannot look upon them any longer --
I cannot face them ... still...
Ah, God, I cannot shut them out!
They burn right through my eyelids,
And set my eyes afire.
My eye-lids are red-hot,
And scorch my eyes...
My eyes, my eyes!
Oh, I would tear them out...
But I ... I cannot lift my hands;
They're full of molten iron.
My hands!
Oh!
BESSIE. He seems quite spent.
Perhaps the worst is over.
ELEANOR. Oh, would to God...
JACOB. The big, red, gaping mouth...
It gapes,
And licks its lips,
And roars, and roars for food.
I cannot breathe,
Its hot breath stifles me.
It puffs at me,
Then tries to suck me in --
Into that roaring hell.
It gapes ... it gapes...
For me!
I cannot feed it fast enough;
And it is angry,
And roars, and roars with hunger.
Some night the red tongue will shoot out and lick me
Into that blazing hell-mouth --
Will lick me to a cinder,
A handful of white ash.
It will shoot out...
Ah, God!
The fiery tongue
Is all about me now;
It wraps me round and round,
And licks me in.
At last the furnace has me --
The furnace that I feared.
I burn...
ELEANOR. That he should suffer so!
Ah, God, that he might...
THE ELDEST CHILD. Mother, what's a furnace?
ELEANOR. Ah, child, that you should hear!
I scarcely knew you listened.
A furnace is the mouth...
Nay, it's a fire --
A big, big fire.
CHILD. A fire?
But why is Daddy frightened?
I do not fear the fire.
I sit quite close,
And warm my hands.
I'd love a big, big fire,
And would not be afraid of it:
So, why is Daddy?
I've often sat upon his knee,
Quite close,
And watched the pretty flames.
He never told me he was frightened,
Or I'd have held his hand.
ELEANOR. And he will nevermore
Sit by the hearth,
His children on his knee,
And listen to their prattle.
He was proud...
BESSIE. He does not moan so much,
And hardly moves.
I think...
But, hark!
He tries to speak again.
His voice is weaker;
He can scarcely whisper.
JACOB. O mother, do you see the little flame
That leaps above the bars,
And dances in and out?
Look how he dances, dances,
Upon the red-hot coals.
Oh, now, he's gone --
He must have heard me talking.
But there he is again:
And laughing at me,
And waving his red cap.
BESSIE. The worst is over.
He's easier now.
ELEANOR. His mind is wandering back to his old home.
He's heard the child;
And thinks that he's a child, too.
JACOB. I love to watch the fire;
And when I am a man,
I'll mind a furnace, mother,
And feed it all day long;
And watch it blaze;
And listen to its roaring.
Look, mother, do you see the little flame,
That runs right down into that deep, red hollow;
And waves to me to follow after?
I'd like to follow him,
And run right down --
Right down that golden lane,
Among the dancing flames,
And dance with them.
Ah, there he is;
And laughing at me,
And waving his red cap...
And dancing ... dancing... [A pause.]
CHILD. O mother, look,
The fire has gone quite out;
And I am cold.
BESSIE. He moans no longer...
ELEANOR. He seems more easy...
He does not stir...
How quiet he has grown...
It's strange, he lies so still,
So suddenly...
That he would speak to me!
BESSIE. Ay, he is easy now;
But he will never stir again, nor speak...
ELEANOR. Jacob!
CHILD. He is not frightened now.





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