Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, PHILOSOPHY AND BESS, by ROBERT B. SHARPE


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

PHILOSOPHY AND BESS, by                    
First Line: Bess, do you mean it, really, when you say
Last Line: Love only's wise. Taste, truth, life, there,—and there—
Subject(s): Death; Love; Dead, The


I

BESS, do you mean it, really, when you say,
(Blinking up at me with those lazy eyes)
"It must be nice to be so awf'ly wise?"
Or, is it just your way
Of teasing me, blind, boastful, know-it-all—
You, all the while, holding the secret there,
Safe somewhere, underneath your dusky hair,
Dim secret, that with questionings great and small
I cannot quite surprise?

II

Is wisdom "nice?" Well, in a certain book,
(Be't truth or folly, I being just from the shell, Know not), some pages tell
Of those who saw the fruit of knowledge, took
And ate thereof—and straightway were unwell—
While I, having wisdom showered at my head,
Am yet not wise, but only troubled by it.
To me, in happiness even, uncomforted
A little doubt keeps whispering—Here, try it!

III

Maybe you'll solve it, where the learned fail—
It's thus now—just here, where your temple's white
Is darkened into blue by little veins,
How close life throbs, how close! And I could pale
And falter, when it strikes me suddenly,
(As it has leapt across me, dear, tonight),
How close life throbs to death!—Why, I can feel
Your sleepy comfort, now, pulsing so drowsily,
My finger hardly notes it—if I kissed
'Twould leap, perhaps—but there, I'll let it sleep,
Risking no pressure on its kindly chains,
So frail the barriers that this vigil keep.

IV

Or here is life again, under my hand—
Your fluttering heart—for as you nestle curled
Like a soft kitten in my arms, and purr
Contented, there I feel it, having spanned
Easily, all the loveliest life i' the world.
To sense your life like a caged little bird
Beating its prison bars—eager to greet
Death, its grim worshipper,
Crouching so close, here, at your tiny feet—
Nearer than light to eyes, soft as a whispered word—
There—feel my arms tighten? That's because I fear
Death, being so near—

V

Well, why not solve it for me? Open eyes,
Clear vision, grave, firm mouth, and firm, grave hands—
Athene once more blessing grateful lands
With calm, wise counsel? Face the spectre, Death,
And drive him back, undaunted, till he lies
Impotent, powerless to chill our breath
And make us cowards—Stern power of reason, rise!

VI

No answer? So you nestle closer then,
Sweeping your shadowy tresses o'er my arm—
Pout sleepy, thoughtless lips t' be kissed again,
Not seeing Death, nor yet acknowledging,
(Because 'twere painful), he has power to harm—
Have you no answer? Or is your answer this—
Soft arms, full lips half opened for a kiss,
And that slant, drowsy eye, (the lashes sweep
So lazily the blossom of your cheek),—
Who knows? Perhaps it sees
More wisely than our blundering centuries.

VII

Like your wee, furry kitten, by the fire—
The firelight dancing in its narrowed eyes
Like sunbeams, maybe, or like vain desire—
Knowing all things, being foolish, and therefore wise.
Is this your answer, then? I think I understand—
That I have had it all the while at hand,
But missed it, failing to inquire
Clear through—So life is freer even than I said,
And bolder, coming out to the very gate
Of being, fearing not. (Is not Death dead?)
I knew, Bess, that you'd answer, soon or late.

VIII

So wisdom, being foolish, comes and blows
Unguarded, glorious petals like a rose—
And we, having racked our learned brains for naught,
And finding never what with toil we sought,
Being granted but a headache, we're so wise,
May stoop, (if we're but quick enough), and take
The very flame of life, rushing from heart
And wrist and temple—feel it warm and wake—
Then, all life gathered at the lips, send Death
A-packing, easier than a breath—
See, we have beat him! Tangled in your hair
I feel, (no need to see 't), how fast he goes—
Love only's wise. Taste, truth, life, there,—and there—





Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!


Other Poems of Interest...
Home: PoetryExplorer.net