THE HOUSEHOLDERSavage I was sitting in my house, late, lone:Dreary, weary with the long day's work:Head of me, heart of me, stupid as a stone:Tongue-tied now, now blaspheming like a Turk;When, in a moment, just a knock, call, cry,Half a pang and all a rapture, there again were we!—"What, and is it really you again?" quoth I:"I again, what else did you expect?" quoth She."Never mind, hie away from this old house—Every crumbling brick embrowned with sin and shame!Quick, in its corners ere certain shapes arouse!Let them—every devil of the night—lay claim,Make and mend, or rap and rend, for me! Good-by!God be their guard from disturbance at their glee,Till, crash, comes down the carcass in a heap!" quoth I:"Nay, but there's a decency required!" quoth She."Ah, but if you knew how time has dragged, days, nights!All the neighbor-talk with man and maid—such men!All the fuss and trouble of street-sounds, window-sights:All the worry of flapping door and echoing roof; and then,All the fancies ... Who were they had leave, dared tryDarker arts that almost struck despair in me?If you knew but how I dwelt down here!" quoth I:"And was I so better off up there?" quoth She."Help and get it over!Reunited to his wife(How draw up the paper lets the parish-people know?)Lies M. or N., departed from this life,Day the this or that, month and year the so and so.What i' the way of final flourish? Prose, verse? Try!Affliction sore long time he bore, or, what is it to be?Till God did please to grant him ease. Do end!" quoth I:"I end with—Love is all, and Death is naught!" quoth She.
THE HOUSEHOLDERSavage I was sitting in my house, late, lone:Dreary, weary with the long day's work:Head of me, heart of me, stupid as a stone:Tongue-tied now, now blaspheming like a Turk;When, in a moment, just a knock, call, cry,Half a pang and all a rapture, there again were we!—"What, and is it really you again?" quoth I:"I again, what else did you expect?" quoth She."Never mind, hie away from this old house—Every crumbling brick embrowned with sin and shame!Quick, in its corners ere certain shapes arouse!Let them—every devil of the night—lay claim,Make and mend, or rap and rend, for me! Good-by!God be their guard from disturbance at their glee,Till, crash, comes down the carcass in a heap!" quoth I:"Nay, but there's a decency required!" quoth She."Ah, but if you knew how time has dragged, days, nights!All the neighbor-talk with man and maid—such men!All the fuss and trouble of street-sounds, window-sights:All the worry of flapping door and echoing roof; and then,All the fancies ... Who were they had leave, dared tryDarker arts that almost struck despair in me?If you knew but how I dwelt down here!" quoth I:"And was I so better off up there?" quoth She."Help and get it over!Reunited to his wife(How draw up the paper lets the parish-people know?)Lies M. or N., departed from this life,Day the this or that, month and year the so and so.What i' the way of final flourish? Prose, verse? Try!Affliction sore long time he bore, or, what is it to be?Till God did please to grant him ease. Do end!" quoth I:"I end with—Love is all, and Death is naught!" quoth She.
THE HOUSEHOLDER
THE HOUSEHOLDER
Savage I was sitting in my house, late, lone:Dreary, weary with the long day's work:Head of me, heart of me, stupid as a stone:Tongue-tied now, now blaspheming like a Turk;When, in a moment, just a knock, call, cry,Half a pang and all a rapture, there again were we!—"What, and is it really you again?" quoth I:"I again, what else did you expect?" quoth She.
Savage I was sitting in my house, late, lone:
Dreary, weary with the long day's work:
Head of me, heart of me, stupid as a stone:
Tongue-tied now, now blaspheming like a Turk;
When, in a moment, just a knock, call, cry,
Half a pang and all a rapture, there again were we!—
"What, and is it really you again?" quoth I:
"I again, what else did you expect?" quoth She.
"Never mind, hie away from this old house—Every crumbling brick embrowned with sin and shame!Quick, in its corners ere certain shapes arouse!Let them—every devil of the night—lay claim,Make and mend, or rap and rend, for me! Good-by!God be their guard from disturbance at their glee,Till, crash, comes down the carcass in a heap!" quoth I:"Nay, but there's a decency required!" quoth She.
"Never mind, hie away from this old house—
Every crumbling brick embrowned with sin and shame!
Quick, in its corners ere certain shapes arouse!
Let them—every devil of the night—lay claim,
Make and mend, or rap and rend, for me! Good-by!
God be their guard from disturbance at their glee,
Till, crash, comes down the carcass in a heap!" quoth I:
"Nay, but there's a decency required!" quoth She.
"Ah, but if you knew how time has dragged, days, nights!All the neighbor-talk with man and maid—such men!All the fuss and trouble of street-sounds, window-sights:All the worry of flapping door and echoing roof; and then,All the fancies ... Who were they had leave, dared tryDarker arts that almost struck despair in me?If you knew but how I dwelt down here!" quoth I:"And was I so better off up there?" quoth She.
"Ah, but if you knew how time has dragged, days, nights!
All the neighbor-talk with man and maid—such men!
All the fuss and trouble of street-sounds, window-sights:
All the worry of flapping door and echoing roof; and then,
All the fancies ... Who were they had leave, dared try
Darker arts that almost struck despair in me?
If you knew but how I dwelt down here!" quoth I:
"And was I so better off up there?" quoth She.
"Help and get it over!Reunited to his wife(How draw up the paper lets the parish-people know?)Lies M. or N., departed from this life,Day the this or that, month and year the so and so.What i' the way of final flourish? Prose, verse? Try!Affliction sore long time he bore, or, what is it to be?Till God did please to grant him ease. Do end!" quoth I:"I end with—Love is all, and Death is naught!" quoth She.
"Help and get it over!Reunited to his wife
(How draw up the paper lets the parish-people know?)
Lies M. or N., departed from this life,
Day the this or that, month and year the so and so.
What i' the way of final flourish? Prose, verse? Try!
Affliction sore long time he bore, or, what is it to be?
Till God did please to grant him ease. Do end!" quoth I:
"I end with—Love is all, and Death is naught!" quoth She.
OR
TURF AND TOWERS
TO MISS THACKERAY
This poem, dated January 23, 1873, was published in the early summer of the same year. Browning had been staying with his sister at St. Aubin, in Normandy, and there met Miss Thackeray, who was to tell a tale of the White Cotton Night-cap Country, but a tragedy then just coming to a culmination in the courts supplied Browning with the more suggestive title which he adopted. Mr. Cooke records:—
"In the poem as written the names of the actors and places were correctly given, but when the poem was being revised in proof-sheets they were changed from prudential reasons, because the last act in the tragedy occurred only a brief period prior to the writing of the poem.
"Browning submitted the proof-sheets of the poem to his friend Lord Coleridge, then the English Attorney-General, afterwards Chief Justice, who thought that a case of libel might lie for what was said, however improbable such action might be. He accordingly changed the names to fictitious ones. It was the year following this, and the publication of the poem, that the appeal against the judgment in favor of the will of Mellerio was dismissed, and the case finally set at rest in harmony with the conclusion reached by the poet."
In the second edition of herHand-BookMrs. Orr gives the correct names, as furnished to her by Browning himself. These names will be found in the notes at the end of this volume.