Robert Browning poem
Righteous Jammer
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Robert Browning
Meeting at Night
1
The gray sea and the long black land;
And the yellow half-moon large and low;
And the startled little waves that leap
In fiery ringlets from their sleep,
As I gain the cove with pushing prow,
And quench its speed i' the slushy sand.
2
Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach;
Three fields to cross till a farm appears;
A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch
And blue spurt of a lighted match,
And a voice less loud, through its joys and fears,
Than the two hearts beating each to each!
Meeting at Night
1
The gray sea and the long black land;
And the yellow half-moon large and low;
And the startled little waves that leap
In fiery ringlets from their sleep,
As I gain the cove with pushing prow,
And quench its speed i' the slushy sand.
2
Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach;
Three fields to cross till a farm appears;
A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch
And blue spurt of a lighted match,
And a voice less loud, through its joys and fears,
Than the two hearts beating each to each!
It doesnt hurt.... when I bleed
but memories...they eat me
I've seen it all before,...
bring it on cause I'm no victim.
-Ghost
but memories...they eat me
I've seen it all before,...
bring it on cause I'm no victim.
-Ghost
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Comments
And Browning! You studied Browning! Fra Lippi Lippo!! It's the fukking best browning ever.
The duke, I wanted to knock him right down the staircase.
Fra Lippo, I wanted to crawl out the window with him
here's my favorite part -- it's long:
45 Here's spring come, and the nights one makes up bands
46 To roam the town and sing out carnival,
47 And I've been three weeks shut within my mew,
48 A-painting for the great man, saints and saints
49 And saints again. I could not paint all night--
50 Ouf! I leaned out of window for fresh air.
51 There came a hurry of feet and little feet,
52 A sweep of lute strings, laughs, and whifts of song, --
53 Flower o' the broom,
54 Take away love, and our earth is a tomb!
55 Flower o' the quince,
56 I let Lisa go, and what good is life since?
57 Flower o' the thyme--and so on. Round they went.
58 Scarce had they turned the corner when a titter
59 Like the skipping of rabbits by moonlight,--three slim shapes,
60 And a face that looked up . . . zooks, sir, flesh and blood,
61 That's all I'm made of! Into shreds it went,
62 Curtain and counterpane and coverlet,
63 All the bed-furniture--a dozen knots,
64 There was a ladder! Down I let myself,
65 Hands and feet, scrambling somehow, and so dropped,
66 And after them. I came up with the fun
67 Hard by Saint Laurence, hail fellow, well met,--
68 Flower o' the rose,
69 If I've been merry, what matter who knows?
70 And so as I was stealing back again
71 To get to bed and have a bit of sleep
72 Ere I rise up to-morrow and go work
73 On Jerome knocking at his poor old breast
74 With his great round stone to subdue the flesh,
75 You snap me of the sudden. Ah, I see!
76 Though your eye twinkles still, you shake your head--
77 Mine's shaved--a monk, you say--the sting 's in that!
78 If Master Cosimo announced himself,
79 Mum's the word naturally; but a monk!
80 Come, what am I a beast for? tell us, now!
81 I was a baby when my mother died
82 And father died and left me in the street.
83 I starved there, God knows how, a year or two
84 On fig-skins, melon-parings, rinds and shucks,
85 Refuse and rubbish. One fine frosty day,
86 My stomach being empty as your hat,
87 The wind doubled me up and down I went.
88 Old Aunt Lapaccia trussed me with one hand,
89 (Its fellow was a stinger as I knew)
90 And so along the wall, over the bridge,
91 By the straight cut to the convent. Six words there,
92 While I stood munching my first bread that month:
93 "So, boy, you're minded," quoth the good fat father
94 Wiping his own mouth, 'twas refection-time,--
95 "To quit this very miserable world?
96 Will you renounce" . . . "the mouthful of bread?" thought I;
97 By no means! Brief, they made a monk of me;
98 I did renounce the world, its pride and greed,
99 Palace, farm, villa, shop, and banking-house,
100 Trash, such as these poor devils of Medici
101 Have given their hearts to--all at eight years old.
http://faculty.stonehill.edu/geverett/rb/lippo.htm