Classic and Contemporary Poetry
JOHN JONES: 4. UP THE SPOUT, by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Hi! Just you drop that! Stop, I say! Last Line: Of jewry! Just in time! Subject(s): God; Jews; Sea; Judaism; Ocean | ||||||||
I. HI! Just you drop that! Stop, I say! Shirk work, think slink off, twist friend's wrist? Where that spined sand's lined band's the bay -- Lined blind with true sea's blue, as due -- Promising -- not to pay? II. For the sea's debt leaves wet the sand; Burst worst fate's weights in one burst gun? A man's own yacht, blown -- What? off land? Tack back, or veer round here, then -- queer! Reef points, though -- understand? III. I'm blest if I do. Sigh? be blowed! Love's doves make break life's ropes, eh? Tropes! Faith's brig, baulked, sides caulked, rides at road; Hope's gropes befogged, storm-dogged and bogged -- Clogged, water-logged, her load! IV. Stowed, by Jove, right and tight, away! No show now how best plough sea's brow, Wrinkling -- breeze quick, tease thick, ere day, Clear sheer wave's sheen of green, I mean, With twinkling wrinkles -- eh? V. Sea sprinkles winkles, tinkles light Shells' bells -- boy's joys that hap to snap! It's just sea's fun, breeze done, to spite God's rods that scourge her surge, I'd urge -- Not proper, is it -- quite? VI. See, fore and aft, life's craft undone! Crank plank, split spritsail -- mark, sea's lark! That grey cold sea's old sprees, begun When men lay dark i' the ark, no spark, All water -- just God's fun! VII. Not bright, at best, his jest to these Seemed -- screamed, shrieked, wreaked on kin for sin! When for mirth's yell earth's knell seemed please Some dumb new grim great whim in him Made Jews take chalk for cheese. VIII. Could God's rods bruise God's Jews? Their jowls Bobbed, sobbed, gaped, aped the plaice in face: None heard, 'tis odds, his -- God's -- folk's howls. Now, how must I apply, to try This hookiest-beaked of owls? IX. Well, I suppose God knows -- I don't. Time's crimes mark dark men's types, in stripes Broad as fen's lands men's hands were wont Leave grieve unploughed, though proud and loud With birds' words -- No! he won't! X. One never should think good impossible. Eh? say I'd hide this Jew's oil's cruse -- His shop might hold bright gold, engrossible By spy -- spring's air takes there no care To wave the heath-flower's glossy bell! XI. But gold bells chime in time there, coined -- Gold! Old Sphinx winks there -- 'Read my screed!' Doctrine Jews learn, use, burn for, joined (Through new craft's stealth) with health and wealth -- At once all three purloined! XII. I rose with dawn, to pawn, no doubt, (Miss this chance, glance untried aside?) John's shirt, my -- no! Ay, so -- the lout! Let yet the door gape, store on floor And not a soul about? XIII. Such men lay traps, perhaps -- and I'm Weak -- meek -- mild -- child of woe, you know! But theft, I doubt, my lout calls crime. Shrink? Think! Love's dawn in pawn -- you spawn Of Jewry! Just in time! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HALL OF OCEAN LIFE by JOHN HOLLANDER JULY FOURTH BY THE OCEAN by ROBINSON JEFFERS BOATS IN A FOG by ROBINSON JEFFERS CONTINENT'S END by ROBINSON JEFFERS THE FIGUREHEAD by LEONIE ADAMS A BALLAD OF DEATH by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE |
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