CXXXIThat is well. Our double horoscopeI cast, while you concur. Discard that simileO' the fickle element! Elvire is land not sea—The solid land, the safe. All these word-bubbles cameO' the sea, and bite like salt. The unlucky bath's to blame.This hand of yours on heart of mine, no more the bayI beat, nor bask beneath the blue! In Pornic, say,The Mayor shall catalogue me duly domiciled,Contributable, good-companion of the guildAnd mystery of marriage. I stickle for the town,And not this tower apart; because, though, halfway down,Its mullions wink o'erwebbed with bloomy greenness, yetWho mounts to staircase top may tempt the parapet,And sudden there 's the sea! No memories to arouse,No fancies to delude! Our honest civic houseOf the earth be earthy too!—or graced perchance with shellMade prize of long ago, picked haply where the swellMenaced a little once—or seaweed-branch that yetDampens and softens, notes a freak of wind, a fretOf wave: though, why on earth should sea-change mend or marThe calm contemplative householders that we are?So shall the seasons fleet, while our two selves abide:E'en past astonishment how sunrise and springs tideCould tempt one forth to swim; the more if time appointsThat swimming grow a task for one's rheumatic joints.Such honest civic house, behold, I constituteOur villa! Be but flesh and blood, and smile to boot!Enter for good and all! then fate bolt fast the door,Shut you and me inside, never to wander more!CXXXIIOnly,—you do not use to apprehend attack!No doubt, the way I march, one idle arm, thrown slackBehind me, leaves the open hand defenceless at the back,Should an impertinent on tiptoe steal, and stuff—Whatever can it be? A letter sure enough,Pushed betwixt palm and glove! That largess of a franc?Perhaps inconsciously,—to better help the blankO' the nest, her tambourine, and, laying egg, persuadeA family to follow, the nest-egg that I laidMay have contained—but just to foil suspicious folk—Between two silver whites a yellow double yolk!Oh, threaten no farewell! five minutes shall sufficeTo clear the matter up. I go, and in a triceReturn; five minutes past, expect me! If in vain—Why, slip from flesh and blood, and play the ghost again!
CXXXIThat is well. Our double horoscopeI cast, while you concur. Discard that simileO' the fickle element! Elvire is land not sea—The solid land, the safe. All these word-bubbles cameO' the sea, and bite like salt. The unlucky bath's to blame.This hand of yours on heart of mine, no more the bayI beat, nor bask beneath the blue! In Pornic, say,The Mayor shall catalogue me duly domiciled,Contributable, good-companion of the guildAnd mystery of marriage. I stickle for the town,And not this tower apart; because, though, halfway down,Its mullions wink o'erwebbed with bloomy greenness, yetWho mounts to staircase top may tempt the parapet,And sudden there 's the sea! No memories to arouse,No fancies to delude! Our honest civic houseOf the earth be earthy too!—or graced perchance with shellMade prize of long ago, picked haply where the swellMenaced a little once—or seaweed-branch that yetDampens and softens, notes a freak of wind, a fretOf wave: though, why on earth should sea-change mend or marThe calm contemplative householders that we are?So shall the seasons fleet, while our two selves abide:E'en past astonishment how sunrise and springs tideCould tempt one forth to swim; the more if time appointsThat swimming grow a task for one's rheumatic joints.Such honest civic house, behold, I constituteOur villa! Be but flesh and blood, and smile to boot!Enter for good and all! then fate bolt fast the door,Shut you and me inside, never to wander more!CXXXIIOnly,—you do not use to apprehend attack!No doubt, the way I march, one idle arm, thrown slackBehind me, leaves the open hand defenceless at the back,Should an impertinent on tiptoe steal, and stuff—Whatever can it be? A letter sure enough,Pushed betwixt palm and glove! That largess of a franc?Perhaps inconsciously,—to better help the blankO' the nest, her tambourine, and, laying egg, persuadeA family to follow, the nest-egg that I laidMay have contained—but just to foil suspicious folk—Between two silver whites a yellow double yolk!Oh, threaten no farewell! five minutes shall sufficeTo clear the matter up. I go, and in a triceReturn; five minutes past, expect me! If in vain—Why, slip from flesh and blood, and play the ghost again!
CXXXI
CXXXI
That is well. Our double horoscopeI cast, while you concur. Discard that simileO' the fickle element! Elvire is land not sea—The solid land, the safe. All these word-bubbles cameO' the sea, and bite like salt. The unlucky bath's to blame.This hand of yours on heart of mine, no more the bayI beat, nor bask beneath the blue! In Pornic, say,The Mayor shall catalogue me duly domiciled,Contributable, good-companion of the guildAnd mystery of marriage. I stickle for the town,And not this tower apart; because, though, halfway down,Its mullions wink o'erwebbed with bloomy greenness, yetWho mounts to staircase top may tempt the parapet,And sudden there 's the sea! No memories to arouse,No fancies to delude! Our honest civic houseOf the earth be earthy too!—or graced perchance with shellMade prize of long ago, picked haply where the swellMenaced a little once—or seaweed-branch that yetDampens and softens, notes a freak of wind, a fretOf wave: though, why on earth should sea-change mend or marThe calm contemplative householders that we are?So shall the seasons fleet, while our two selves abide:E'en past astonishment how sunrise and springs tideCould tempt one forth to swim; the more if time appointsThat swimming grow a task for one's rheumatic joints.Such honest civic house, behold, I constituteOur villa! Be but flesh and blood, and smile to boot!Enter for good and all! then fate bolt fast the door,Shut you and me inside, never to wander more!
That is well. Our double horoscope
I cast, while you concur. Discard that simile
O' the fickle element! Elvire is land not sea—
The solid land, the safe. All these word-bubbles came
O' the sea, and bite like salt. The unlucky bath's to blame.
This hand of yours on heart of mine, no more the bay
I beat, nor bask beneath the blue! In Pornic, say,
The Mayor shall catalogue me duly domiciled,
Contributable, good-companion of the guild
And mystery of marriage. I stickle for the town,
And not this tower apart; because, though, halfway down,
Its mullions wink o'erwebbed with bloomy greenness, yet
Who mounts to staircase top may tempt the parapet,
And sudden there 's the sea! No memories to arouse,
No fancies to delude! Our honest civic house
Of the earth be earthy too!—or graced perchance with shell
Made prize of long ago, picked haply where the swell
Menaced a little once—or seaweed-branch that yet
Dampens and softens, notes a freak of wind, a fret
Of wave: though, why on earth should sea-change mend or mar
The calm contemplative householders that we are?
So shall the seasons fleet, while our two selves abide:
E'en past astonishment how sunrise and springs tide
Could tempt one forth to swim; the more if time appoints
That swimming grow a task for one's rheumatic joints.
Such honest civic house, behold, I constitute
Our villa! Be but flesh and blood, and smile to boot!
Enter for good and all! then fate bolt fast the door,
Shut you and me inside, never to wander more!
CXXXII
CXXXII
Only,—you do not use to apprehend attack!No doubt, the way I march, one idle arm, thrown slackBehind me, leaves the open hand defenceless at the back,Should an impertinent on tiptoe steal, and stuff—Whatever can it be? A letter sure enough,Pushed betwixt palm and glove! That largess of a franc?Perhaps inconsciously,—to better help the blankO' the nest, her tambourine, and, laying egg, persuadeA family to follow, the nest-egg that I laidMay have contained—but just to foil suspicious folk—Between two silver whites a yellow double yolk!Oh, threaten no farewell! five minutes shall sufficeTo clear the matter up. I go, and in a triceReturn; five minutes past, expect me! If in vain—Why, slip from flesh and blood, and play the ghost again!
Only,—you do not use to apprehend attack!
No doubt, the way I march, one idle arm, thrown slack
Behind me, leaves the open hand defenceless at the back,
Should an impertinent on tiptoe steal, and stuff
—Whatever can it be? A letter sure enough,
Pushed betwixt palm and glove! That largess of a franc?
Perhaps inconsciously,—to better help the blank
O' the nest, her tambourine, and, laying egg, persuade
A family to follow, the nest-egg that I laid
May have contained—but just to foil suspicious folk—
Between two silver whites a yellow double yolk!
Oh, threaten no farewell! five minutes shall suffice
To clear the matter up. I go, and in a trice
Return; five minutes past, expect me! If in vain—
Why, slip from flesh and blood, and play the ghost again!