Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, WHITE CONDUIT HOUSE, by WILLIAM WOTY


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

WHITE CONDUIT HOUSE, by                    
First Line: Wished sunday's come: mirth brightens every face
Last Line: So long, white conduit house, shall be thy fame.'
Subject(s): Collective Behavior; Food & Eating; Houses; Restaurants; Waiters And Waitresses; Mobs; Crowds; Cafes; Diners


WISHED Sunday's come: mirth brightens ev'ry face,
And paints the rose upon the housemaid's cheek,
Harriot or Moll, more ruddy. Now the heart
Of prentice, resident in ample street
Or alley kennel-washed, Cheapside, Cornhill,
Or Cranborne, thee for calcuments renowned,
With joy distends. His meal meridian o'er,
With switch in hand, he to White Conduit House
Hies merry-hearted. Human beings here
In couples multitudinous assemble,
Forming the drollest group that ever trod
Fair Islingtonian plains: male after male,
Dog after dog succeeding, husbands, wives,
Fathers and mothers, brothers, sisters, friends,
And pretty little boys and girls. Around,
Across, along the garden's shrubby maze,
They walk, they sit, they stand. What crowds press on,
Eager to mount the stairs, eager to catch
First vacant bench or chair in long-room placed!
Here prig with prig holds conference polite,
And indiscriminate the gaudy beau
And sloven mix. Here he, who all the week
Took bearded mortals by the nose, or sat
Weaving dead hairs and whistling wretched strain,
And eke the sturdy youth, whose trade it is
Stout oxen to contund, with gold-bound hat
And silken stocking strut. The red-armed belle
Here shows her tasty gown, proud to be thought
The butterfly of fashion; and, forsooth,
Her haughty mistress deigns for once to tread
The same unhallowed floor. 'Tis hurry all
And rattling cups and saucers. 'Waiter' here,
And 'Waiter' there, and 'Waiter' here and there,
At once is called: 'Joe—Joe—Joe—Joe—Joe'—
'Joe' on the right, and 'Joe' upon the left,
For ev'ry vocal pipe re-echoes 'Joe'.
Alas, poor Joe! Like Francis in the play
He stands confounded, anxious how to please
The many-headed throng. But should I paint
The language, humours, custom of the place,
Together with all curtsies, lowly bows,
And compliments extern, 'twould swell my page
Beyond its limits due. Suffice it then.
For my prophetic muse to say, 'So long
As fashion rides upon the wing of time,
While tea and cream and buttered rolls can please,
While rival beaux and jealous belles exist,
So long, White Conduit House, shall be thy fame.'





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