Coventry Patmore(23 July 1823 - 26 November 1896 / Essex, England)
A London Fête
- by Coventry Patmore108
All night fell hammers, shock on shock; With echoes Newgate's granite clang'd: The scaffold built, at eight o'clock They brought the man out to be hang'd. Then came from all the people there A single cry, that shook the air; Mothers held up their babes to see, Who spread their hands, and crow'd for glee; Here a girl from her vesture tore A rag to wave with, and join'd the roar; There a man, with yelling tired, Stopp'd, and the culprit's crime inquired; A sot, below the doom'd man dumb, Bawl'd his health in the world to come; These blasphemed and fought for places; Those, half-crush'd, cast frantic faces, To windows, where, in freedom sweet, Others enjoy'd the wicked treat. At last, the show's black crisis pended; Struggles for better standings ended; The rabble's lips no longer curst, But stood agape with horrid thirst; Thousands of breasts beat horrid hope; Thousands of eyeballs, lit with hell, Burnt one way all, to see the rope Unslacken as the platform fell. The rope flew tight; and then the roar Burst forth afresh; less loud, but more Confused and affrighting than before. A few harsh tongues for ever led The common din, the chaos of noises, But ear could not catch what they said. As when the realm of the damn'd rejoices At winning a soul to its will, That clatter and clangour of hateful voices Sicken'd and stunn'd the air, until The dangling corpse hung straight and still. The show complete, the pleasure past, The solid masses loosen'd fast: A thief slunk off, with ample spoil, To ply elsewhere his daily toil; A baby strung its doll to a stick; A mother praised the pretty trick; Two children caught and hang'd a cat; Two friends walk'd on, in lively chat; And two, who had disputed places, Went forth to fight, with murderous faces.
- by Coventry Patmore79
It was not like your great and gracious ways! Do you, that have naught other to lament, Never, my Love, repent Of how, that July afternoon, You went, With sudden, unintelligible phrase, And frighten'd eye, Upon your journey of so many days Without a single kiss, or a good-bye? I knew, indeed, that you were parting soon; And so we sate, within the low sun's rays, You whispering to me, for your voice was weak, Your harrowing praise. Well, it was well To hear you such things speak, And I could tell What made your eyes a growing gloom of love, As a warm South-wind sombres a March grove. And it was like your great and gracious ways To turn your talk on daily things, my Dear, Lifting the luminous, pathetic lash To let the laughter flash, Whilst I drew near, Because you spoke so low that I could scarcely hear. But all at once to leave me at the last, More at the wonder than the loss aghast, With huddled, unintelligible phrase, And frighten'd eye, And go your journey of all days With not one kiss, or a good-bye, And the only loveless look the look with which you pass'd: 'Twas all unlike your great and gracious ways.
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