Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE BALLAD OF THE HOPELESS MAN, by HENRI MURGER


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE BALLAD OF THE HOPELESS MAN, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Who knocks for entrance at this hour?'
Last Line: "for—so—one friend shall mourn my fate!"
Subject(s): Grief; Hope; Life; Wandering & Wanderers; Sorrow; Sadness; Optimism


"Who knocks for entrance at this hour?"
"Open:" "Who art thou first?" " 'Tis I."
"Thy name. I cannot ope my door
At midnight to a stranger's cry;

Thy name." "Oh! let me in thy room—
The snow falls fast—it blinds my sight!"
"Thy name." "A corpse within the tomb
Is not more cold than I to-night.

For I have wandered all the day
From north to south, from east to west;
Oh! let the wanderer in, I pray,
One moment by thy fire to rest!"

"Not yet! Who art thou?" "I am Fame—
To immortality I lead."
"Hence mocking shade, delusive name!
Thy faithless voice I dare not heed."

"Oh! hear me, I am Love and Youth
Akin to heaven."—"Pass on thy way;
My mistress failed me in her truth—
Love, Youth for me both died that day!"

"Hush! I am Poesy and Art,
Proscribed by man. Quick, open." "No—
Begone! All music from my heart
Died out with love, long years ago."

"But I am Wealth: thou shalt not lack
Vast treasures of victorious gold,
And I can lure thy mistress back—"
"Alas! but not our love of old."

"Unbar thy dwelling! I am Power
And I can throne thee as a King."
"In vain—the friends that are no more
Back to these arms thou canst not bring."

"Then hearken! If for him alone
Who tells his name, thy doors unclose—
Learn that my name is Death: I own
A balm that cures all earthly woes.

Hark! at my girdle clank the keys
Of gloomy vaults where sleep the dead!
Thou, too, shalt slumber at thine ease,
For I will guard thy dreamless bed."

"Come, then, thou stranger pale and thin,
Scorn not my garret's naked floor—
My hearth is cold, but enter in,
I welcome thee— I can no more.

Hope's self my bosom cannot thrill,
And I am weary of life's cheat:
Had but my courage matched my will,
This heart long since had ceased to beat.

Come, sup with me, and sleep; and when
Thy reckoning thou shalt seek to pay
At morn, O gentle Angel, then
Far bear me in thine arms away.

Long for thy coming I have pined,
And I with joy will be thy mate:
But leave, oh! leave my dog behind,
For—so—one friend shall mourn my fate!"





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