Classic Poem

I have decided to marry:
I get fifteen dollars a week, teaching … prospects poor …
The future is dark: I almost believe I shall never be an artist …
I live in a tiny room on Park Avenue,
And am on the outs with my family …

But I shall marry nevertheless:
Some deep need, some sense that I must break with my adolescence,
That I must go through the common, the deep, the tragic experiences of all,
That I must taste to the roots the life of the generations,
That I must explore the biologic and human mysteries that darkly house the dumb millions,
That I must risk all on darkness and duty. . . .

Three or four times in life this “Must” hangs over me,
This inexorable demand to leave all and risk all I have …

So the family is reconciled, and I marry …
I am stirred religiously: it seems a sacrament to me …
The woman and I are holy beings unto each other …
With clear loud voice I answer the questions,
And with passion I kiss my new wife …

Then, off in the carriage, on the way to the hotel,
I say suddenly, with acrid mirth: “I hate you” …
The young wife is stung to the quick: I must make it up with her …
We forget that ominous beginning …

And the next day we are off on the Asbury Park boat
Floating away from the city: and peace comes to me …
The first relief since I ceased being a boy …

Down at the empty beach people laugh at us: we look like brother and sister:
We are naïve and innocent children …
Married? Surely I am playing house again …