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The Man against the Sky
by Edwin Arlington Robinson
A Book of Poems
To
the memory of
WILLIAM EDWARD BUTLER
Several of the poems included in this book are reprinted
from American periodicals； as follows： 〃The Gift of God〃；
〃Old King Cole〃； 〃Another Dark Lady〃； and 〃The Unforgiven〃；
〃Flammonde〃 and 〃The Poor Relation〃； 〃The Clinging Vine〃；
〃Eros Turannos〃 and 〃Bokardo〃； 〃The Voice of Age〃； 〃Cassandra〃；
〃The Burning Book〃； 〃Theophilus〃； 〃Ben Jonson Entertains
a Man from Stratford〃。
Contents
Flammonde
The Gift of God
The Clinging Vine
Cassandra
John Gorham
Stafford's Cabin
Hillcrest
Old King Cole
Ben Jonson Entertains a Man from Stratford
Eros Turannos
Old Trails
The Unforgiven
Theophilus
Veteran Sirens
Siege Perilous
Another Dark Lady
The Voice of Age
The Dark House
The Poor Relation
The Burning Book
Fragment
Lisette and Eileen
Llewellyn and the Tree
Bewick Finzer
Bokardo
The Man against the Sky
…
The Man against the Sky
…
Flammonde
The man Flammonde； from God knows where；
With firm address and foreign air；
With news of nations in his talk
And something royal in his walk；
With glint of iron in his eyes；
But never doubt； nor yet surprise；
Appeared； and stayed； and held his head
As one by kings accredited。
Erect； with his alert repose
About him； and about his clothes；
He pictured all tradition hears
Of what we owe to fifty years。
His cleansing heritage of taste
Paraded neither want nor waste；
And what he needed for his fee
To live； he borrowed graciously。
He never told us what he was；
Or what mischance； or other cause；
Had banished him from better days
To play the Prince of Castaways。
Meanwhile he played surpassing well
A part； for most； unplayable；
In fine； one pauses； half afraid
To say for certain that he played。
For that； one may as well forego
Conviction as to yes or no；
Nor can I say just how intense
Would then have been the difference
To several； who； having striven
In vain to get what he was given；
Would see the stranger taken on
By friends not easy to be won。
Moreover； many a malcontent
He soothed and found munificent；
His courtesy beguiled and foiled
Suspicion that his years were soiled；
His mien distinguished any crowd；
His credit strengthened when he bowed；
And women； young and old； were fond
Of looking at the man Flammonde。
There was a woman in our town
On whom the fashion was to frown；
But while our talk renewed the tinge
Of a long…faded scarlet fringe；
The man Flammonde saw none of that；
And what he saw we wondered at
That none of us； in her distress；
Could hide or find our littleness。
There was a boy that all agreed
Had shut within him the rare seed
Of learning。 We could understand；
But none of us could lift a hand。
The man Flammonde appraised the youth；
And told a few of us the truth；
And thereby； for a little gold；
A flowered future was unrolled。
There were two citizens who fought
For years and years； and over nought；
They made life awkward for their friends；
And shortened their own dividends。
The man Flammonde said what was wrong
Should be made right； nor was it long
Before they were again in line；
And had each other in to dine。
And these I mention are but four
Of many out of many more。
So much for them。 But what of him
So firm in every look and limb？
What small satanic sort of kink
Was in his brain？ What broken link
Withheld him from the destinies
That came so near to being his？
What was he； when we came to sift
His meaning； and to note the drift
Of incommunicable ways
That make us ponder while we praise？
Why was it that his charm revealed
Somehow the surface of a shield？
What was it that we never caught？
What was he； and what was he not？
How much it was of him we met
We cannot ever know； nor yet
Shall all he gave us quite atone
For what was his； and his alone；
Nor need we now； since he knew best；
Nourish an ethical unrest：
Rarely at once will nature give
The power to be Flammonde and live。
We cannot know how much we learn
From those who never will return；
Until a flash of unforeseen
Remembrance falls on what has been。
We've each a darkening hill to climb；
And this is why； from time to time
In Tilbury Town； we look beyond
Horizons for the man Flammonde。
The Gift of God
Blessed with a joy that only she
Of all alive shall ever know；
She wears a proud humility
For what it was that willed it so；
That her degree should be so great
Among the favored of the Lord
That she may scarcely bear the weight
Of her bewildering reward。
As one apart； immune； alone；
Or featured for the shining ones；
And like to none that she has known
Of other women's other sons；
The firm fruition of her need；
He shines anointed； and he blurs
Her vision； till it seems indeed
A sacrilege to call him hers。
She fears a little for so much
Of what is best； and hardly dares
To think of him as one to touch
With aches； indignities； and cares；
She sees him rather at the goal；
Still shining； and her dream foretells
The proper shining of a soul
Where nothing ordinary dwells。
Perchance a canvass of the town
Would find him far from flags and shouts；
And leave him only the renown
Of many smiles and many doubts；
Perchance the crude and common tongue
Would havoc strangely with his worth；
But she； with innocence unwrung；
Would read his name around the earth。
And others； knowing how this youth
Would shine； if love could make him great；
When caught and tortured for the truth
Would only writhe and hesitate；
While she； arranging for his days
What centuries could not fulfill；
Transmutes him with her faith and praise；
And has him shining where she will。
She crowns him with her gratefulness；
And says again that life is good；
And should the gift of God be less
In him than in her motherhood；
His fame； though vague； will not be small；
As upward through her dream he fares；
Half clouded with a crimson fall
Of roses thrown on marble stairs。
The Clinging Vine
〃Be calm？ And was I frantic？
You'll have me laughing soon。
I'm calm as this Atlantic；
And quiet as the moon；
I may have spoken faster
Than once； in other days；
For I've no more a master；
And now ‘Be calm；' he says。
〃Fear not； fear no commotion；
I'll be as rocks and sand；
The moon and stars and ocean
Will envy my command；
No creature could be stiller
In any kind of place
Than I 。 。 。 No； I'll not kill her；
Her death is in her face。
〃Be happy while she has it；
For she'll not have it long；
A year； and then you'll pass it；
Preparing a new song。
And I'm a fool for prating
Of what a year may bring；
When more like her are waiting
For more like you to sing。
〃You mock me with denial；
You mean to call me hard？
You see no room for trial
When all my doors are barred？
You say； and you'd say dying；
That I dream what I know；
And sighing； and denying；
You'd hold my hand and go。
〃You scowl and I don't wonder；
I spoke too fast again；
But you'll forgive one blunder；
For you are like most men：
You are； or so you've told me；
So many mortal times；
That heaven ought not to hold me
Accountable for crimes。
〃Be calm？ Was I unpleasant？
Then I'll be more discreet；
And grant you； for the present；
The balm of my defeat：
What she； with all her striving；
Could not have brought about；
You've done。 Your own contriving
Has put the last light out。
〃If she were the whole story；
If worse were not behind；
I'd creep with you to glory；
Believing I was blind；
I'd creep； and go on seeming
To be what I despise。
You laugh； and say I'm dreaming；
And all your laughs are lies。
〃Are women mad？ A few are；
And if it's true you say
If most men are as you are
We'll all be mad some day。
Be calm and let me finish；
There's more for you to know。
I'll talk while you diminish；
And listen while you grow。
〃There was a man who married
Because he couldn't see；
And all his days he carried
The mark of his degree。
But you you came clear…sighted；
And found truth in my eyes；
And all my wrongs you've righted
With lies； and lies； and lies。
〃You've killed the last assurance
That once would have me strive
To rouse an old endurance
That is no more alive。
It makes two people chilly
To say what we have said；
But you you'll not be silly
And wrangle for the dead。
〃You don't？ You never wrangle？
Why scold then； or complain？
More words
