Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE TAVERN OF THE FOOLS, by CHRISTOPHER DARLINGTON MORLEY


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE TAVERN OF THE FOOLS, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: I knew of an honest cleanly inn where men much profit had
Last Line: To hear that cryptic laughter in the tavern of the fools.
Alternate Author Name(s): Hall, Galway
Subject(s): Bars & Bartenders; Fools; Pubs; Taverns; Saloons; Idiots


I knew of an honest cleanly inn where men much profit had,
And some came in from the roaring town, and some from the roaring seas;
They talked in the open way of those who are not too proud to be sad,
They sat in a ruddy ingle, at night, and took their ease.
For terrible is the sunlight that makes men fear to be dead.
But comforting is the well-swept hearth that flickers gold and gules,
And there men spoke withouten shame, and curious words were said --
Ungoaded by a clock they sat, in the Tavern of the Fools.
Those men were Fools; and each one bore some secret foolish stain --
Some were the Fools who loved the world and were mocked for being kind,
Some had twisted a golden life with quarrel and peevish pain,
But all were doubtful, and all had left their wisdom far behind.
And ah how heavenly (poor Fools!) to lay their loads aside
And all, with simple courtesy, to take the word in turn
And itemize their lack of wit -- but not in silly pride,
For when a Fool speaks modestly, then other Fools can learn.

There was a Fool who dreamed a dream that Love was always young,
There was a Fool whose habit was to turn the other cheek;
There was a Fool whose eyes would shine when brave old songs were sung,
And one whose face was strangely carved, and rarely did he speak.
They did not fret on little things, and if the talk ran thin
The pewter made its tilting round, according to the rules:
They sat and stared upon the fire, all peaceably akin --
Some active Fools, some passive Fools, some honorary Fools.

But sometimes, in a genial mood, the younger members vowed
That it was wrong their fellowship should be so limited --
"The room is large, the hearth is wide; while we don't want a crowd,
Still, why should we be selfish with our privilege?" they said.
"For since man has this golden root of folly in his breast,
Why may not lovely woman too possess some molecules
Of sheer delightful foolishness? Let's put her to the test,
And not be too exclusive in our parliament of Fools."

So they debated it. Indeed, they came as near a fuss
As such a reasonable group could ever come. But then
One thoughtful Fool's objection made them all unanimous.
"Now there are women Fools," he said, "as random as the men.
But what's the honor of the Fool? What marks and qualifies
And makes his melancholy sweet and pure? Why this, as you'll
Agree: He never never will pretend that he is wise --
So how can any woman ever be a Perfect Fool?"

The vote was passed. They realized, more strictly than before,
The duty that they owed the world, to keep their folly pure:
And many an eager candidate they turned back at the door,
And snugly circled round their hearth, fraternally and sure.
They loved their virtue far too well to heedlessly admit
One bitter taint of wisdom through their mystic vestibules,
And many a puzzled passenger was palsied in his wit
To hear that cryptic laughter in the Tavern of the Fools.





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