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Time's Laughingstocks, and Other Verses
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A fourth dimension, say the guides,
To matter is conceivable.
Think some such mystery resides
Within the ethic of my will.”
BY THE BARROWS
Not far from Mellstock – so tradition saith —
Where barrows, bulging as they bosoms were
Of Multimammia stretched supinely there,
Catch night and noon the tempest’s wanton breath,
A battle, desperate doubtless unto death,
Was one time fought. The outlook, lone and bare,
The towering hawk and passing raven share,
And all the upland round is called “The He’th.”
Here once a woman, in our modern age,
Fought singlehandedly to shield a child —
One not her own – from a man’s senseless rage.
And to my mind no patriots’ bones there piled
So consecrate the silence as her deed
Of stoic and devoted self-unheed.
A WIFE AND ANOTHER
“War ends, and he’s returning
Early; yea,
The evening next to-morrow’s!” —
– This I say
To her, whom I suspiciously survey,
Holding my husband’s letter
To her view. —
She glanced at it but lightly,
And I knew
That one from him that day had reached her too.
There was no time for scruple;
Secretly
I filched her missive, conned it,
Learnt that he
Would lodge with her ere he came home to me.
To reach the port before her,
And, unscanned,
There wait to intercept them
Soon I planned:
That, in her stead, I might before him stand.
So purposed, so effected;
At the inn
Assigned, I found her hidden: —
O that sin
Should bear what she bore when I entered in!
Her heavy lids grew laden
With despairs,
Her lips made soundless movements
Unawares,
While I peered at the chamber hired as theirs.
And as beside its doorway,
Deadly hued,
One inside, one withoutside
We two stood,
He came – my husband – as she knew he would.
No pleasurable triumph
Was that sight!
The ghastly disappointment
Broke them quite.
What love was theirs, to move them with such might!
“Madam, forgive me!” said she,
Sorrow bent,
“A child – I soon shall bear him.
Yes – I meant
To tell you – that he won me ere he went.”
Then, as it were, within me
Something snapped,
As if my soul had largened:
Conscience-capped,
I saw myself the snarer – them the trapped.
“My hate dies, and I promise,
Grace-beguiled,”
I said, “to care for you, be
Reconciled;
And cherish, and take interest in the child.”
Without more words I pressed him
Through the door
Within which she stood, powerless
To say more,
And closed it on them, and downstairward bore.
“He joins his wife – my sister,”
I, below,
To matter is conceivable.
Think some such mystery resides
Within the ethic of my will.”
BY THE BARROWS
Not far from Mellstock – so tradition saith —
Where barrows, bulging as they bosoms were
Of Multimammia stretched supinely there,
Catch night and noon the tempest’s wanton breath,
A battle, desperate doubtless unto death,
Was one time fought. The outlook, lone and bare,
The towering hawk and passing raven share,
And all the upland round is called “The He’th.”
Here once a woman, in our modern age,
Fought singlehandedly to shield a child —
One not her own – from a man’s senseless rage.
And to my mind no patriots’ bones there piled
So consecrate the silence as her deed
Of stoic and devoted self-unheed.
A WIFE AND ANOTHER
“War ends, and he’s returning
Early; yea,
The evening next to-morrow’s!” —
– This I say
To her, whom I suspiciously survey,
Holding my husband’s letter
To her view. —
She glanced at it but lightly,
And I knew
That one from him that day had reached her too.
There was no time for scruple;
Secretly
I filched her missive, conned it,
Learnt that he
Would lodge with her ere he came home to me.
To reach the port before her,
And, unscanned,
There wait to intercept them
Soon I planned:
That, in her stead, I might before him stand.
So purposed, so effected;
At the inn
Assigned, I found her hidden: —
O that sin
Should bear what she bore when I entered in!
Her heavy lids grew laden
With despairs,
Her lips made soundless movements
Unawares,
While I peered at the chamber hired as theirs.
And as beside its doorway,
Deadly hued,
One inside, one withoutside
We two stood,
He came – my husband – as she knew he would.
No pleasurable triumph
Was that sight!
The ghastly disappointment
Broke them quite.
What love was theirs, to move them with such might!
“Madam, forgive me!” said she,
Sorrow bent,
“A child – I soon shall bear him.
Yes – I meant
To tell you – that he won me ere he went.”
Then, as it were, within me
Something snapped,
As if my soul had largened:
Conscience-capped,
I saw myself the snarer – them the trapped.
“My hate dies, and I promise,
Grace-beguiled,”
I said, “to care for you, be
Reconciled;
And cherish, and take interest in the child.”
Without more words I pressed him
Through the door
Within which she stood, powerless
To say more,
And closed it on them, and downstairward bore.
“He joins his wife – my sister,”
I, below,
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Последний отзыв
Классная книга. Очень многое объясняет, что скрытое реально происходит в человеке