Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE ANGEL IN THE HOUSE: BOOK 2. CANTO 5. THE QUEEN'S ROOM, by COVENTRY KERSEY DIGHTON PATMORE Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: There's nothing happier than the days Last Line: Blossom'd the laughing bridal rose. Subject(s): Marriage; Weddings; Husbands; Wives | ||||||||
1 There's nothing happier than the days In which young Love makes every thought Pure as a bride's blush, when she says 'I will' unto she knows not what; And lovers, on the love-lit globe, For love's sweet sake, walk yet aloof, And hear Time weave the marriage-robe, Attraction warp and reverence woof! 2 My Housekeeper, my Nurse of yore, Cried, as the latest carriage went, 'Well, Mr. Felix, Sir, I'm sure 'The morning's gone off excellent! 'I never saw the show to pass 'The ladies, in their fine fresh gowns, 'So sweetly dancing on the grass, 'To music with its ups and downs. 'We'd such work, Sir, to clean the plate; ''Twas just the busy times of old. 'The Queen's room, Sir, look'd quite like state. 'Miss Smythe, when she went up, made bold 'To peep into the Rose Boudoir, 'And cried, "How charming! all quite new;" 'And wonder'd who it could be for. 'All but Miss Honor look'd in too. 'But she's too proud to peep and pry. 'None's like that sweet Miss Honor, Sir! 'Excuse my humbleness, but I 'Pray Heav'n you'll get a wife like her! 'The Poor love dear Miss Honor's ways 'Better than money. Mrs. Rouse, 'Who ought to know a lady, says 'No finer goes to Wilton House. 'Miss Bagshaw thought that dreary room 'Had kill'd old Mrs. Vaughan with fright; 'She would not sleep in such a tomb 'For all her host was worth a night! 'Miss Fry, Sir, laugh'd; they talk'd the rest 'In French; and French Sir's Greek to me. 'But, though they smiled, and seem'd to jest, 'No love was lost, for I could see 'How serious-like Miss Honor was --' 'Well, Nurse, this is not my affair. 'The ladies talk'd in French with cause. 'Good-day; and thank you for your prayer.' 3 I loiter'd through the vacant house, Soon to be hers; in one room stay'd, Of old my mother's. Here my vows Of endless thanks were oftenest paid. This room its first condition kept; For, on her road to Sarum Town, Therein an English Queen had slept, Before the Hurst was half-pull'd down. The pictured walls the place became: Here ran the Brook Anaurus, where Stout Jason bore the wrinkled dame Whom serving changed to Juno; there, Ixion's selfish hope, instead Of the nuptial goddess, clasp'd a cloud; And, here, translated Psyche fed Her gaze on Love, not disallow'd. 4 And in this chamber had she been, And into that she would not look, My Joy, my Vanity, my Queen, At whose dear name my pulses shook! To others how express at all My worship in that joyful shrine? I scarcely can myself recall What peace and ardour then were mine! And how more sweet than aught below, The daylight and its duties done, It felt to fold the hands, and so Relinquish all regards but one; To see her features in the dark; To lie and meditate once more The grace I did not fully mark, The tone I had not heard before; And from my pillow then to take Her notes, her picture, and her glove, Put there for joy when I should wake, And press them to the heart of love; And then to whisper 'Wife!' and pray To live so long as not to miss That unimaginable day Which farther seems the nearer 'tis; And still from joy's unfathom'd well To drink, in dreams, while on her brows Of innocence ineffable Blossom'd the laughing bridal rose. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A BLESSING FOR A WEDDING by JANE HIRSHFIELD A SUITE FOR MARRIAGE by DAVID IGNATOW ADVICE TO HER SON ON MARRIAGE by MARY BARBER THE RABBI'S SON-IN-LAW by SABINE BARING-GOULD KISSING AGAIN by DORIANNE LAUX A TIME PAST by DENISE LEVERTOV A LONDON FETE by COVENTRY KERSEY DIGHTON PATMORE |
|