IN
A COPY OF BROWNING
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BROWNING,
old fellow,
Your leaves grow yellow,
Beginning to mellow
As seasons pass.
Your cover is wrinkled, |
5 |
And
stained and sprinkled,
And warped and crinkled
From sleep on the grass.
Is it a wine stain,
Or only a pine stain,
|
10 |
That
makes such a fine stain
On your dull blue,—
Got as we numbered
The clouds that lumbered
Southward and slumbered |
15 |
| When
day was through?
What is the dear mark
There like an earmark,
Only a tear mark
A woman let fall?—
|
20 |
As bending
over
She bade me discover,
"Who plays the lover,
He loses all!"
With you for teacher
|
25 |
We learned
love’s feature
In every creature
That roves or grieves;
When winds were brawling,
Or bird-folk calling, |
30 |
Or leaf-folk
falling,
About our eaves.
No law must straiten
The ways they wait in,
Whose spirits greaten
|
35 |
And
hearts aspire.
The world may dwindle,
And summer brindle,
So love but kindle
The soul to fire. |
40 |
Here many a red line,
Or pencilled headline,
Shows love could wed line
To golden sense;
And something better |
45 |
Than
wisdom’s fetter
Has made your letter
Dense to the dense.
No April robin,
Nor clacking bobbin,
|
50 |
Can
make of Dobbin
A Pegasus;
But Nature’s pleading
To man’s unheeding,
Your subtile reading |
55 |
| Made
clear to us.
You made us farers
And equal sharers
With homespun wearers
In home-made joys;
|
60 |
You
made us princes
No plea convinces
That spirit winces
At dust and noise.
When Fate was nagging,
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65 |
And
days were dragging,
And fancy lagging,
You gave it scope,—
When eaves were drippy,
And pavements slippy,— |
70 |
From
Lippo Lippi
To Evelyn Hope.
When winter’s arrow
Pierced to the marrow,
And thought was narrow,
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75 |
You
gave it room;
We guessed the warder
On Roland’s border,
And helped to order
The Bishop’s Tomb. |
80 |
When winds were harshish,
And ways were marshish,
We found with Karshish
Escape at need;
Were bold with Waring |
85 |
In far
seafaring,
And strong in sharing
Ben Ezra’s creed.
We felt the menace
Of lovers pen us,
|
90 |
Afloat
in Venice
Devising fibs;
And little mattered
The rain that pattered,
While Blougram chattered |
95 |
| To Gigadibs.
And we too waited
With heart elated
And breathing bated,
For Pippa’s song;
|
100 |
Saw
Satan hover,
With wings to cover
Porphyria’s lover,
Pompilia’s wrong.
Long thoughts were started,
|
105 |
When
youth departed
From the half-hearted
Riccardi’s bride;
For, saith your fable,
Great Love is able |
110 |
To slip
the cable
And take the tide.
Or truth compels us
With Paracelsus,
Till nothing else is
|
115 |
Of worth
at all.
Del Sarto’s vision
Is our own mission,
And art’s ambition
Is God’s own call. |
120 |
Through all the seasons,
You gave us reasons
For splendid treasons
To doubt and fear;
Bade no foot falter, |
125 |
Though
weaklings palter,
And friendships alter
From year to year.
Since first I sought you,
Found you and bought you,
|
130 |
Hugged
and brought you
Home from Cornhill,
While some upbraid you,
And some parade you,
Nine years have made you |
135 |
| My master
still. |
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