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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=359176" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Angel In The House. Book II. Canto XI.</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Preludes.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I Platonic Love <br>Right art thou who wouldst rather be<br>A doorkeeper in Love's fair house,<br>Than lead the wretched revelry<br>Where fools at swinish troughs carouse.<br>But do not boast of being least;<br>And if to kiss thy Mistress' skirt<br>Amaze thy brain, scorn not the Priest<br>Whom greater honours do not hurt.<br>Stand off and gaze, if more than this<br>Be more than thou canst understand,<br>Revering him whose power of bliss,<br>Angelic, dares to seize her hand,<br>Or whose seraphic love makes flight<br>To the apprehension of her lips;<br>And think, the sun of such delight<br>From thine own darkness takes eclipse.<br>And, wouldst thou to the same aspire,<br>This is the art thou must employ,<br>Live greatly; so shalt thou acquire<br>Unknown capacities of joy.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>II A Demonstration <br>Nature, with endless being rife,<br>Parts each thing into ‘him’ and ‘her,’<br>And, in the arithmetic of life,<br>The smallest unit is a pair;<br>And thus, oh, strange, sweet half of me,<br>If I confess a loftier flame,<br>If more I love high Heaven than thee,<br>I more than love thee, thee I am;<br>And, if the world's not built of lies,<br>Nor all a cheat the Gospel tells,<br>If that which from the dead shall rise<br>Be I indeed, not something else,<br>There's no position more secure<br>In reason or in faith than this,<br>That those conditions must endure,<br>Which, wanting, I myself should miss.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">III The Symbol <br>As if I chafed the sparks from glass,<br>And said, ‘It lightens,’ hitherto<br>The songs I've made of love may pass<br>For all but for proportion true;<br>But likeness and proportion both<br>Now fail, as if a child in glee,<br>Catching the flakes of the salt froth,<br>Cried, ‘Look, my mother, here's the sea.’<br>Yet, by the help of what's so weak,<br>But not diverse, to those who know,<br>And only unto those I speak,<br>May far-inferring fancy show <br>Love's living sea by coasts uncurb'd,<br>Its depth, its mystery, and its might,<br>Its indignation if disturb'd,<br>The glittering peace of its delight.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">IV Constancy rewarded <br>I vow'd unvarying faith, and she,<br>To whom in full I pay that vow,<br>Rewards me with variety<br>Which men who change can never know.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>The Wedding.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I<br>Life smitten with a feverish chill,<br>The brain too tired to understand,<br>In apathy of heart and will,<br>I took the woman from the hand<br>Of him who stood for God, and heard<br>Of Christ, and of the Church his Bride;<br>The Feast, by presence of the Lord<br>And his first Wonder, beautified;<br>The mystic sense to Christian men;<br>The bonds in innocency made,<br>And gravely to be enter'd then<br>For children, godliness, and aid,<br>And honour'd, and kept free from smirch;<br>And how a man must love his wife<br>No less than Christ did love His Church,<br>If need be, giving her his life; <br>And, vowing then the mutual vow,<br>The tongue spoke, but intention slept.<br>'Tis well for us Heaven asks not how<br>We take this oath, but how 'tis kept.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">II<br>O, bold seal of a bashful bond,<br>Which makes the marriage-day to be,<br>To those before it and beyond,<br>An iceberg in an Indian sea!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">III<br>‘Now, while she's changing,’ said the Dean,<br>‘Her bridal for her travelling dress,<br>‘I'll preach allegiance to your queen!<br>‘Preaching's the thing which I profess;<br>‘And one more minute's mine! You know<br>‘I've paid my girl a father's debt,<br>‘And this last charge is all I owe.<br>‘She's your's; but I love more than yet<br>‘You can; such fondness only wakes<br>‘When time has raised the heart above<br>‘The prejudice of youth, which makes<br>‘Beauty conditional to love.<br>‘Prepare to meet the weak alarms<br>‘Of novel nearness: recollect<br>‘The eye which magnifies her charms<br>‘Is microscopic for defect.<br>‘Fear comes at first; but soon, rejoiced,<br>‘You'll find your strong and tender loves,<br>‘Like holy rocks by Druids poised,<br>‘The least force shakes, but none removes.<br>‘Her strength is your esteem; beware<br>‘Of finding fault; her will's unnerv'd<br>‘By blame; from you 'twould be despair;<br>‘But praise that is not quite deserv'd</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>‘Will all her noble nature move<br>‘To make your utmost wishes true.<br>‘Yet think, while mending thus your Love,<br>‘Of matching her ideal too!<br>‘The death of nuptial joy is sloth:<br>‘To keep your mistress in your wife,<br>‘Keep to the very height your oath,<br>‘And honour her with arduous life.<br>‘Lastly, no personal reverence doff.<br>‘Life's all externals unto those<br>‘Who pluck the blushing petals off,<br>‘To find the secret of the rose.—<br>‘How long she's tarrying! Green's Hotel<br>‘I'm sure you'll like. The charge is fair,<br>‘The wines good. I remember well<br>‘I stay'd once, with her Mother, there.<br>‘A tender conscience of her vow<br>‘That Mother had! She's so like her!’<br>But Mrs. Fife, much flurried, now<br>Whisper'd, ‘Miss Honor's ready, Sir.’</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>IV<br>Whirl'd off at last, for speech I sought,<br>To keep shy Love in countenance;<br>But, whilst I vainly tax'd my thought,<br>Her voice deliver'd mine from trance:<br>‘Look, is not this a pretty shawl,<br>‘Aunt's parting gift.’ ‘She's always kind,’<br>‘The new wing spoils Sir John's old Hall:<br>‘You'll see it, if you pull the blind.’</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>V<br>I drew the silk: in heaven the night<br>Was dawning; lovely Venus shone,<br>In languishment of tearful light,<br>Swathed by the red breath of the sun.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Coventry+Patmore">Coventry Patmore</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=359176" data-title="The Angel In The House. Book II. Canto XI. de Coventry Patmore" data-description="Preludes.

I Platonic Love 
Right art thou who wouldst rather be
A doorkeeper in Love's fair house,
Than lead the wretched revelry
Where fools at swinish troughs carouse.
But do not boast of being least;
And if to kiss thy Mistress' skirt
Amaze th..."></div>
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