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20
THE PARROT
[WORDS! WORDS! WORDS!]
Once, upon a midnight skeery,
Like an eagle in his eyrie,
In my room, a garret cheery
(Reckoning sky-from, the first floor),
Lo, I heard a sound of screeching,
Like some file a saw beseeching,
Or some irate school-ma'am teaching
Stupid school-girls —half a score:
What can that be? said I inly;
Some ill-manner'd wind or bore
At my key hole, nothing more.
Like an eagle in his eyrie,
In my room, a garret cheery
(Reckoning sky-from, the first floor),
Lo, I heard a sound of screeching,
Like some file a saw beseeching,
Or some irate school-ma'am teaching
Stupid school-girls —half a score:
What can that be? said I inly;
Some ill-manner'd wind or bore
At my key hole, nothing more.
In my chamber, yes! my garret,—
Truly I am not a parrot,
I don't care a pickled carrot
To recall it the first-floor,—
I had been — I well remember
'Twas the middle of September,
Sure it was, and not November,
Because August came before
And October after, — so I 'm
Certain, I need say no more:
I remember, nothing more.
Truly I am not a parrot,
I don't care a pickled carrot
To recall it the first-floor,—
I had been — I well remember
21
Sure it was, and not November,
Because August came before
And October after, — so I 'm
Certain, I need say no more:
I remember, nothing more.
I remind me of the ballet:
'Twas “The Vision of the Valet,”
I had play'd the part of Sally
On the very night before.
This an off-night was: I sat there
In my room, a-skimming fat there
Off some broth, and then so pat there
Came the screech against my door,
Such a screech, my poor ears splitting
Through the key-hole of the door,
Screech I never heard before.
'Twas “The Vision of the Valet,”
I had play'd the part of Sally
On the very night before.
This an off-night was: I sat there
In my room, a-skimming fat there
Off some broth, and then so pat there
Came the screech against my door,
Such a screech, my poor ears splitting
Through the key-hole of the door,
Screech I never heard before.
Haply, thought I, 'tis a neighbour
(Friends come in to lighten labour),
So my heart play'd pipe and tabor
Though the screech near split the door;
Then again I thought, what wretched
Thing is this so to have fetched
Such a screech? My breath I catched
Thereat, saying — I implore,
Wretch or neighbour! sick or welcome,
Cease to split my chamber door!
Split my screeched ears no more!
(Friends come in to lighten labour),
So my heart play'd pipe and tabor
Though the screech near split the door;
Then again I thought, what wretched
Thing is this so to have fetched
Such a screech? My breath I catched
Thereat, saying — I implore,
Wretch or neighbour! sick or welcome,
Cease to split my chamber door!
Split my screeched ears no more!
22
Presently my soul grew bolder:
Looking round then o'er my shoulder,
By this broth, I said, I 'll scold her—
Her, I knew that, if no more;
And I call'd out — You just stop that
Screech! if you don't quickly drop that
Screech, by this same broth, I 'll whop that
Head of yours off on the floor!
At my speech there came a scratching,
And the screech-split in the door
Stretch'd twice open, then once more.
Looking round then o'er my shoulder,
By this broth, I said, I 'll scold her—
Her, I knew that, if no more;
And I call'd out — You just stop that
Screech! if you don't quickly drop that
Screech, by this same broth, I 'll whop that
Head of yours off on the floor!
At my speech there came a scratching,
And the screech-split in the door
Stretch'd twice open, then once more.
Partly bolden'd by the scratching
I began the door unlatching,
Only first, in haste upsnatching,
Spilt the broth upon the floor;
Surely, said I, that the cat is,
Couldn't pass the window-lattice,
She is hungry, knows the fat is
Always her's the skimming o'er;
Let my heart be still a moment
While this mystery I explore,—
It is the cat, and nothing more.
I began the door unlatching,
Only first, in haste upsnatching,
Spilt the broth upon the floor;
Surely, said I, that the cat is,
Couldn't pass the window-lattice,
She is hungry, knows the fat is
Always her's the skimming o'er;
Let my heart be still a moment
While this mystery I explore,—
It is the cat, and nothing more.
Quick the chamber door I flung wide;
Puss! puss! puss! I with swift tongue cried,
Or had, but my tongue, it hung dried,
For no cat was at the door:
But — before me stood a creature
On one leg,— it was the Screecher:
Well I knew then every feature
Of a bird — Not that of yore,
The Raven, Cat-bird then or harpy?
What! a lark? No! at my door
Was a Parrot, nothing more.
Puss! puss! puss! I with swift tongue cried,
Or had, but my tongue, it hung dried,
For no cat was at the door:
But — before me stood a creature
On one leg,— it was the Screecher:
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Of a bird — Not that of yore,
The Raven, Cat-bird then or harpy?
What! a lark? No! at my door
Was a Parrot, nothing more.
But no common parrot, bet you!
No such bird had ever met you
Though in the Brazils they set you
Plump upon that parrot shore:
Blazing brilliant in his plumage,
That had surely devil-groomage,
Like a Jap in it's first bloomage,
Stamp'd. wlth colours, three or four.
Like a pansy grown to feathers
So that it might live all weathers,
Proving Darwin's belle of whethers,
How the less becomes the more:
Pansy-parrot, flower of yore.
No such bird had ever met you
Though in the Brazils they set you
Plump upon that parrot shore:
Blazing brilliant in his plumage,
That had surely devil-groomage,
Like a Jap in it's first bloomage,
Stamp'd. wlth colours, three or four.
Like a pansy grown to feathers
So that it might live all weathers,
Proving Darwin's belle of whethers,
How the less becomes the more:
Pansy-parrot, flower of yore.
Why, my last new Sunday bonnet
Has not finer feathers on it,
Though for taste — my word upon it!
Better than a bird e'er wore:
French, surpassing parrot fashion:
It would move a saint's compassion
(Though indeed I may be rash on
Saints, I 've known but three or four)
For such feathers to be worn on
Parrot bodies. Well, no more!
But they were feathers at the door.
Has not finer feathers on it,
Though for taste — my word upon it!
Better than a bird e'er wore:
French, surpassing parrot fashion:
It would move a saint's compassion
(Though indeed I may be rash on
Saints, I 've known but three or four)
For such feathers to be worn on
24
But they were feathers at the door.
Such this Parrot was that, screeching
Of his gentlest, hung beseeching,
Sucking-dove-like, and outreaching
For the handle of my door:
Till my heart; to all things tender,
Made to him complete surrender,
And I said — I can but lend or
Give the entrance you implore;
Pray, Sir! enter, screech and feathers!
Then I open'd wide the door,
And I gave my guest the floor.
Of his gentlest, hung beseeching,
Sucking-dove-like, and outreaching
For the handle of my door:
Till my heart; to all things tender,
Made to him complete surrender,
And I said — I can but lend or
Give the entrance you implore;
Pray, Sir! enter, screech and feathers!
Then I open'd wide the door,
And I gave my guest the floor.
Though I held the door wide open,
This strange bird would sidle, slope in,
Just as if he wanted scope in
Getting through the chamber door;
Then, O Babel, Babelmandel!
The wild beast flew in the candle,
And then hung on to the handle
Of my, — a Lady's chamber door,
Claw'd and whirl'd nine times around it,
Round the knob inside the door:
'Twill unscrew, a little more.
This strange bird would sidle, slope in,
Just as if he wanted scope in
Getting through the chamber door;
Then, O Babel, Babelmandel!
The wild beast flew in the candle,
And then hung on to the handle
Of my, — a Lady's chamber door,
Claw'd and whirl'd nine times around it,
Round the knob inside the door:
'Twill unscrew, a little more.
Now I 'm fond of all dumb critturs,
Beast or bird, crawls, flies or flitters,
Cat whose glaring eyeball glitters,
Pig, or puppy blind no more;
But a dumb thing that still screeches
With an echo that outreaches,
I would say to Plymouth beach, is
Worse than even the dumbest bore:
And he screech'd and stopp'd not screeching
And I stopp'd my ears before—
Dear! no! he took breath, and swore.
Beast or bird, crawls, flies or flitters,
Cat whose glaring eyeball glitters,
25
But a dumb thing that still screeches
With an echo that outreaches,
I would say to Plymouth beach, is
Worse than even the dumbest bore:
And he screech'd and stopp'd not screeching
And I stopp'd my ears before—
Dear! no! he took breath, and swore.
I had dropp'd down in my rocking
Chair, in hope to mend a stocking
While he stay'd, when such a shocking
Word came from his repertoire;
Swiftly then as thought allow'd me,
Fears and feelings getting crowdy,
I at him the stocking throw'd; he
Never winced, but from the door,
From the knob he whirl'd on leaning,
Snatch'd it, and again he swore:
Darn'd, he said, and nothing more.
Chair, in hope to mend a stocking
While he stay'd, when such a shocking
Word came from his repertoire;
Swiftly then as thought allow'd me,
Fears and feelings getting crowdy,
I at him the stocking throw'd; he
Never winced, but from the door,
From the knob he whirl'd on leaning,
Snatch'd it, and again he swore:
Darn'd, he said, and nothing more.
And since then, since when I threw it
(I 'm so sorry I could do it),
Nothing I can say unto it
Takes this creature from my door:
On the door-knob he sits rocking,
Whirling, with his beak i' the stocking,
Muffling screeches, and half mocking
Screeches, swearing, Darn'd! no more.
But meseems that 's very shocking:
Darn'd! darn'd! darn'd! and evermore
That word flung in at my door.
(I 'm so sorry I could do it),
Nothing I can say unto it
Takes this creature from my door:
On the door-knob he sits rocking,
Whirling, with his beak i' the stocking,
Muffling screeches, and half mocking
Screeches, swearing, Darn'd! no more.
But meseems that 's very shocking:
26
That word flung in at my door.
There this Parrot, ever whirling
Still is swirling, still is twirling,
Till my hair forgets its curling,
Horrent at the foul uproar;
And he hurls his screeches shocking
Through a big hole in the stocking,
Screeching in his parrot mocking
Just the oath I said before.
There he hangs from night till morning,
My unhappy door adorning—
If the landlord gives me warning
He 'll not let me pass the door:
Darn'd! darn'd! darn'd! for evermore.
Still is swirling, still is twirling,
Till my hair forgets its curling,
Horrent at the foul uproar;
And he hurls his screeches shocking
Through a big hole in the stocking,
Screeching in his parrot mocking
Just the oath I said before.
There he hangs from night till morning,
My unhappy door adorning—
If the landlord gives me warning
He 'll not let me pass the door:
Darn'd! darn'd! darn'd! for evermore.
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