Phantasmagoria and Other Poems | Page 5

many a puff and pant:?Who still, as rises the ascent,?In language grows more violent,?Although in breath more scant:
Who, climbing, gains at length the place?That crowns the upward track.?And, entering with unsteady pace,?Receives a buffet in the face?That lands him on his back:
And feels himself, like one in sleep,?Glide swiftly down again,?A helpless weight, from steep to steep,?Till, with a headlong giddy sweep,?He drops upon the plain -
So I, that had resolved to bring?Conviction to a ghost,?And found it quite a different thing?From any human arguing,?Yet dared not quit my post
But, keeping still the end in view?To which I hoped to come,?I strove to prove the matter true?By putting everything I knew?Into an axiom:
Commencing every single phrase?With 'therefore' or 'because,'?I blindly reeled, a hundred ways,?About the syllogistic maze,?Unconscious where I was.
Quoth he "That's regular clap-trap:?Don't bluster any more.?Now DO be cool and take a nap!?Such a ridiculous old chap?Was never seen before!
"You're like a man I used to meet,?Who got one day so furious?In arguing, the simple heat?Scorched both his slippers off his feet!"?I said "THAT'S VERY CURIOUS!"
"Well, it IS curious, I agree,?And sounds perhaps like fibs:?But still it's true as true can be -?As sure as your name's Tibbs," said he.?I said "My name's NOT Tibbs."
"NOT Tibbs!" he cried--his tone became?A shade or two less hearty -?"Why, no," said I. "My proper name?Is Tibbets--" "Tibbets?" "Aye, the same."?"Why, then YOU'RE NOT THE PARTY!"
With that he struck the board a blow?That shivered half the glasses.?"Why couldn't you have told me so?Three quarters of an hour ago,?You prince of all the asses?
"To walk four miles through mud and rain,?To spend the night in smoking,?And then to find that it's in vain -?And I've to do it all again -?It's really TOO provoking!
"Don't talk!" he cried, as I began?To mutter some excuse.?"Who can have patience with a man?That's got no more discretion than?An idiotic goose?
"To keep me waiting here, instead?Of telling me at once?That this was not the house!" he said.?"There, that'll do--be off to bed!?Don't gape like that, you dunce!"
"It's very fine to throw the blame?On ME in such a fashion!?Why didn't you enquire my name?The very minute that you came?"?I answered in a passion.
"Of course it worries you a bit?To come so far on foot -?But how was _I_ to blame for it?"?"Well, well!" said he. "I must admit?That isn't badly put.
"And certainly you've given me?The best of wine and victual -?Excuse my violence," said he,?"But accidents like this, you see,?They put one out a little.
"'Twas MY fault after all, I find -?Shake hands, old Turnip-top!"?The name was hardly to my mind,?But, as no doubt he meant it kind,?I let the matter drop.
"Good-night, old Turnip-top, good-night!?When I am gone, perhaps?They'll send you some inferior Sprite,?Who'll keep you in a constant fright?And spoil your soundest naps.
"Tell him you'll stand no sort of trick;?Then, if he leers and chuckles,?You just be handy with a stick?(Mind that it's pretty hard and thick)?And rap him on the knuckles!
"Then carelessly remark 'Old coon!?Perhaps you're not aware?That, if you don't behave, you'll soon?Be chuckling to another tune -?And so you'd best take care!'
"That's the right way to cure a Sprite?Of such like goings-on -?But gracious me! It's getting light!?Good-night, old Turnip-top, good-night!"?A nod, and he was gone.
CANTO VII--Sad Souvenaunce
"What's this?" I pondered. "Have I slept??Or can I have been drinking?"?But soon a gentler feeling crept?Upon me, and I sat and wept?An hour or so, like winking.
"No need for Bones to hurry so!"?I sobbed. "In fact, I doubt?If it was worth his while to go -?And who is Tibbs, I'd like to know,?To make such work about?
"If Tibbs is anything like me,?It's POSSIBLE," I said,?"He won't be over-pleased to be?Dropped in upon at half-past three,?After he's snug in bed.
"And if Bones plagues him anyhow -?Squeaking and all the rest of it,?As he was doing here just now -?_I_ prophesy there'll be a row,?And Tibbs will have the best of it!"
Then, as my tears could never bring?The friendly Phantom back,?It seemed to me the proper thing?To mix another glass, and sing?The following Coronach.
'AND ART THOU GONE, BELOVED GHOST??BEST OF FAMILIARS!?NAY THEN, FAREWELL, MY DUCKLING ROAST,?FAREWELL, FAREWELL, MY TEA AND TOAST,?MY MEERSCHAUM AND CIGARS!
THE HUES OF LIFE ARE DULL AND GRAY,?THE SWEETS OF LIFE INSIPID,?WHEN thou, MY CHARMER, ART AWAY -?OLD BRICK, OR RATHER, LET ME SAY,?OLD PARALLELEPIPED!'
Instead of singing Verse the Third,?I ceased--abruptly, rather:?But, after such a splendid word?I felt that it would be absurd?To try it any farther.
So with a yawn I went my way?To seek the welcome downy,?And slept, and dreamed till break of day?Of Poltergeist and Fetch and Fay?And Leprechaun and Brownie!
For year I've not been visited?By any kind of Sprite;?Yet still they echo in my head,?Those parting words, so kindly said,?"Old Turnip-top, good-night!"
ECHOES
Lady Clara Vere de Vere?Was eight years old, she said:?Every ringlet, lightly shaken,