Classic Poem

You in the flesh and here —
Your very self! Now wait!
One word! May I hope or fear?
Must I speak in love or hate?
Stay while I ruminate!

The fact and each circumstance
Dare you disown? Not you!
That vast dome, that huge dance,
And the gloom which overgrew
A — possibly festive crew!

For why should men dance at all —
Why women — a crowd of both —
Unless they are gay? Strange ball —
Hands and feet plighting troth,
Yet partners enforced and loth!

Of who danced there, no shape
Did I recognize: thwart, perverse,
Each grasped each, past escape
In a whirl or weary or worse:
Man's sneer met woman's curse,

While he and she toiled as if
Their guardian set galley-slaves
To supple chained limbs grown stiff:
Unmanacled trulls and knaves —
The lash for who misbehaves!

And a gloom was, all the while,
Deeper and deeper yet
O'ergrowing the rank and file
Of that army of haters — set
To mimic love's fever-fret.

By the wall-side close I crept,
Avoiding the livid maze,
And, safely so far, outstepped
On a chamber — a chapel, says
My memory or betrays —

Closet-like, kept aloof
From unseemly witnessing
What sport made floor and roof
Of the Devil's palace ring
While his Damned amused their king.

Ay, for a low lamp burned,
And a silence lay about
What I, in the midst, discerned
Though dimly till, past doubt,
'Twas a sort of throne stood out —

High seat with steps, at least:
And the topmost step was filled
By — whom? What vestured priest?
A stranger to me, — his guild,
His cult, unreconciled

To my knowledge how guild and cult
Are clothed in this world of ours:
I pondered, but no result
Came to — unless that Giaours
So worship the Lower Powers.

When suddenly who entered?
Who knelt — did you guess I saw?
Who — raising that face where centred
Allegiance to love and law
So lately — off-casting awe,

Down-treading reserve, away
Thrusting respect . . . but mine
Stands firm — firm still shall stay!
Ask Satan! for I decline
To tell — what I saw, in fine!

Yet here in the flesh you come —
Your same self, form and face, —
In the eyes, mirth still at home!
On the lips, that commonplace
Perfection of honest grace!

Yet your errand is — needs must be —
To palliate — well, explain,
Expurgate in some degree
Your soul of its ugly stain.
Oh, you — the good in grain —

How was it your white took tinge?
" A mere dream" — never object!
Sleep leaves a door on hinge
Whence soul, ere our flesh suspect,
Is off and away: detect

Her vagaries when loose, who can!
Be she pranksome, be she prude,
Disguise with the day began:
With the night — ah, what ensued
From draughts of a drink hell-brewed?

Then She: " What a queer wild dream!
And perhaps the best fun is —
Myself had its fellow — I seem
Scarce awake from yet. 'Twas this —
Shall I tell you? First, a kiss!

" For the fault was just your own, —
'Tis myself expect apology:
You warned me to let alone
(Since our studies were mere philology)
That ticklish (you said) Anthology.

" So, I dreamed that I passed exam
Till a question posed me sore:
" Who translated this epigram
By — an author we best ignore? "
And I answered " Hannah More " !"