Classic Poem

Dipsychus

O moon and stars forgive! And thou, clear heaven,
Look pureness back into me. O great God,
Why, why in wisdom and in grace's name,
And in the name of saints and saintly thoughts,
Of mothers, and of sisters, and chaste wives,
And angel woman-faces we have seen,
And angel woman-spirits we have guessed,
And innocent sweet children, and pure love,
Why did I ever one brief moment's space
To this insidious lewdness lend chaste ears,
Or parley with this filthy Belial?

*****

Spirit

O yes, you dream of sin and shame—
Trust me, it leaves one much the same.
'Tisn't Elysium any more
Than what comes after or before:
But heavens! as innocent a thing
As picking strawberries in spring.
You think I'm anxious to allure you—
My object is much more to cure you.

*****

I know it's mainly your temptation
To think the thing a revelation,
A mystic mouthful that will give
Knowledge and death—none know and live!
I tell you plainly that it brings
Some ease; but the emptiness of things
(That one old sermon Earth still preaches
Until we practise what she teaches)
Is the sole lesson you'll learn by it—
Still you undoubtedly should try it.
‘Try all things’—bad and good, no matter;
You can't till then hold fast the latter.
If not, this itch will stick and vex you
Your live long days till death unsex you—
Hide in your bones, for aught I know,
And with you to the next world go.
Briefly—you cannot rest, I'm certain,
Until your hand has drawn the curtain.
Once known the little lies behind it,
You'll go your way and never mind it.
Ill's only cure is, never doubt it,
To do—and think no more about it.

*****

Dipsychus

Could I believe that any child of Eve
Were formed and fashioned, raised and reared for nought
But to be swilled with animal delight
And yield five minutes' pleasure to the male—

*****

Spirit

It was a lover and his lass,
 With a hey and a ho, and a hey nonino!
Betwixt the acres of the rye,
 With a hey and a ho, and a hey nonino!
These pretty country folks would lie—
 In the spring time, the pretty spring time.

Dipsychus

And could I think I owed it not to her,
In virtue of our manhood's stronger sight,
Even against entreaty to forbear—

Spirit

O Joseph and Don Quixote! This
A chivalry of chasteness is,
That turns to nothing all, that story
Has made out of your ancient glory!

*****

Dipsychus

Or could I think that it had been for nought
That from my boyhood until now, in spite
Of most misguiding theories, at the moment
Somewhat has ever stepped in to arrest
My ingress at the fatal-closing door,
That many and many a time my foolish foot
O'ertreading the dim sill, spite of itself
And spite of me, instinctively fell back.

Spirit

Like Balaam's ass, in spite of thwacking,
Against the wall his master backing,
Because of something hazy stalking
Just in the way they should be walking—
Soon after too, he took to talking!

Dipsychus

Backed, and refused my bidding—Could I think,
In spite of carnal understanding's sneers,
All this fortuitous only—all a chance?

Spirit

Ah, just what I was going to say;
An Angel met you in the way!
Cry mercy of his heavenly highness—
I took him for that cunning shyness.

*****

Dipsychus

O welcome then, the sweet domestic bonds,
The matrimonial sanctities; the hopes
And cares of wedded life; parental thoughts,
The prattle of young children, the good word
Of fellow men, the sanction of the law,
And permanence and habit, that transmute
Grossness itself to crystal. O, why, why,
Why ever let this speculating brain
Rest upon other objects than on this?

Spirit

Well, well—if you must stick perforce
Unto the ancient holy course,
And map your life out on the plan
Of the connubial puritan,
For God's sake carry out your creed,
Go home and marry—and be d——d.
I'll help you.

Dipsychus

You!

Spirit

O never scout me;
I know you'll ne'er propose without me.

Dipsychus

I have talked o'ermuch. The Spirit passes from me.
O folly, folly, what have I done? Ah me!

Spirit

You'd like another turn, I see.
Yes, yes, a little quiet turn.
By all means let us live and learn.
Here's many a lady still waylaying,
And sundry gentlemen purveying.
And if 'twere only just to see
The room of an Italian fille ,
'Twere worth the trouble and the money.
You'll like to find—I found it funny—
The chamber où vous faites votre affaire
Stand nicely fitted up for prayer;
While dim you trace along one end
The Sacred Supper's length extend.
The calm Madonna o'er your head
Smiles, col bambino , on the bed
Where—but your chaste ears I must spare—
Where, as we said, vous faites votre affaire .
They'll suit you, these Venetian pets!
So natural, not the least coquettes—
Really at times one quite forgets—
Well, would you like perhaps to arrive at
A pretty creature's home in private?
We can look in, just say goodnight,
And, if you like to stay, all right.
Just as you fancy—is it well?

Dipsychus

O folly, folly, folly! To the Hotel!