 | English Roses |  |
NEBULAR ENGLISH.
They talked for full an hour by Greenwich time,
The poet and the high debater;
They heard the great clock strike the quarters chime
And made a feast of reason and of rhyme,
But still the mental fog grew greater;
For words had lost their leaning and their use,
And come to have a meaning so profuse
That not a mortal now could tell
What others said with all the clearest aid
Of dictionaries' learnèd spell;
One might be playing golf, one at the wicket,
But each alike was in a hopeless thicket.
The poet and the high debater;
They heard the great clock strike the quarters chime
And made a feast of reason and of rhyme,
But still the mental fog grew greater;
For words had lost their leaning and their use,
And come to have a meaning so profuse
That not a mortal now could tell
What others said with all the clearest aid
Of dictionaries' learnèd spell;
One might be playing golf, one at the wicket,
But each alike was in a hopeless thicket.
The Poet murmured on in misty flowers
Of speech, and worlds with golden axes
Refulgent rose and trembled into towers,
Where giant creeds had carved their deathless dowers;
The Statesman dealt on tolls and taxes,
Imperial needs that present were and asked
New policies or pleasant issues masked,
In diplomatic doubtful style;
And either hoped the other also coped
With the same cause, with cultured smile.
Though one trod earth and one tried eagle pinions,
Both looked through clouds that darkened both dominions.
Of speech, and worlds with golden axes
Refulgent rose and trembled into towers,
Where giant creeds had carved their deathless dowers;
The Statesman dealt on tolls and taxes,
Imperial needs that present were and asked
New policies or pleasant issues masked,
290
And either hoped the other also coped
With the same cause, with cultured smile.
Though one trod earth and one tried eagle pinions,
Both looked through clouds that darkened both dominions.
In spacious terms that might have covered all
The widest truths or simply nothing,
The Statesman with the webs that flocked at call
Strove now for triumph, now a splendid fall,
And buried facts in gorgeous clothing;
The Poet proudly travelled through the air,
Which at his touch unravelled columns fair
And classic courts of sudden light,
With purple bloom that shadowed every room
Insufferable to the sight;
But each, though miles and miles apart, was certain
Each meant the same thing from his dusky curtain.
The widest truths or simply nothing,
The Statesman with the webs that flocked at call
Strove now for triumph, now a splendid fall,
And buried facts in gorgeous clothing;
The Poet proudly travelled through the air,
Which at his touch unravelled columns fair
And classic courts of sudden light,
With purple bloom that shadowed every room
Insufferable to the sight;
But each, though miles and miles apart, was certain
Each meant the same thing from his dusky curtain.
And thus they babbled on in courteous lines,
Ambiguous words and empty phrases,
And laid in chaos grand foundation stones
For worlds of wind and insubstantial thrones,
And mingled precedents and daisies;
Till at the hour they parted blindly friends,
Who never met and started diverse ends,
Yet satisfied that both had won;
And then were fain to fight out yet again,
What still were fruitless and undone.
They went, one thought, to join in sweet transgression
That night—the other deemed, at sad Confession.
Ambiguous words and empty phrases,
And laid in chaos grand foundation stones
For worlds of wind and insubstantial thrones,
And mingled precedents and daisies;
Till at the hour they parted blindly friends,
Who never met and started diverse ends,
Yet satisfied that both had won;
And then were fain to fight out yet again,
What still were fruitless and undone.
They went, one thought, to join in sweet transgression
That night—the other deemed, at sad Confession.
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