The Complete Poems of Robert Browning - 22 Poetry Collections in One Edition. Robert Browning

The Complete Poems of Robert Browning - 22 Poetry Collections in One Edition - Robert  Browning


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Or in the thick dust

       On the path, or straight out of the rock-side,

       Wherever could thrust

       Some burnt sprig of bold hardy rock-flower

       Its yellow face up,

       For the prize were great butterflies fighting,

       Some five for one cup.

       So, I guessed, ere I got up this morning,

       What change was in store,

       By the quick rustle-down of the quail-nets

       Which woke me before

       I could open my shutter, made fast

       With a bough and a stone,

       And look thro’ the twisted dead vine-twigs,

       Sole lattice that’s known!

       Quick and sharp rang the rings down the net-poles,

       While, busy beneath,

       Your priest and his brother tugged at them,

       The rain in their teeth:

       And out upon all the flat houseroofs

       Where split figs lay drying,

       The girls took the frails under cover:

       Nor use seemed in trying

       To get out the boats and go fishing,

       For, under the cliff,

       Fierce the black water frothed o’er the blind-rock.

       No seeing our skiff

       Arrive about noon from Amalfi,

       — Our fisher arrive

       And pitch down his basket before us,

       All trembling alive

       With pink and grey jellies, your sea-fruit;

       — You touch the strange lumps,

       And mouths gape there, eyes open, all manner

       Of horns and of humps,

       Which only the fisher looks grave at,

       While round him like imps

       Cling screaming the children as naked

       And brown as his shrimps;

       Himself too as bare to the middle —

       — You see round his neck

       The string and its brass coin suspended,

       That saves him from wreck.

       But to-day not a boat reached Salerno,

       So back, to a man,

       Came our friends, with whose help in the vineyards

       Grape-harvest began:

       In the vat, halfway up in our house-side,

       Like blood the juice spins,

       While your brother all bare-legged is dancing

       Till breathless he grins

       Dead-beaten in effort on effort

       To keep the grapes under,

       Since still when he seems all but master,

       In pours the fresh plunder

       From girls who keep coming and going

       With basket on shoulder,

       And eyes shut against the rain’s driving;

       Your girls that are older, —

       For under the hedges of aloe,

       And where, on its bed

       Of the orchard’s black mould, the love-apple

       Lies pulpy and red,

       All the young ones are kneeling and filling

       Their laps with the snails

       Tempted out by this first rainy weather, —

       Your best of regales,

       As tonight will be proved to my sorrow,

       When, supping in state,

       We shall feast our grape-gleaners (two dozen,

       Three over one plate)

       With lasagne so tempting to swallow

       In slippery ropes,

       And gourds fried in great purple slices,

       That colour of popes.

       Meantime, see the grape bunch they’ve brought you, —

       The rainwater slips

       O’er the heavy blue bloom on each globe

       Which the wasp to your lips

       Still follows with fretful persistence —

       Nay, taste, while awake,

       This half of a curd-white smooth cheese-ball

       That peels, flake by flake,

       Like an onion, each smoother and whiter;

       Next, sip this weak wine

       From the thin green glass flask, with its stopper,

       A leaf of the vine, —

       And end with the prickly-pear’s red flesh

       That leaves thro’ its juice

       The stony black seeds on your pearl-teeth.

       … Scirocco is loose!

       Hark, the quick, whistling pelt of the olives

       Which, thick in one’s track,

       Tempt the stranger to pick up and bite them,

       Tho’ not yet half black!

       How the old twisted olive trunks shudder,

       The medlars let fall

       Their hard fruit, and the brittle great figtrees

       Snap off, figs and all, —

       For here comes the whole of the tempest!

       No refuge, but creep

       Back again to my side and my shoulder,

       And listen or sleep.

       O how will your country show next week,

       When all the vine-boughs

       Have been stripped of their foliage to pasture

       The mules and the cows?

       Last eve, I rode over the mountains;

       Your brother, my guide,

       Soon left me, to feast on the myrtles

       That offered, each side,

       Their fruit-balls, black, glossy and luscious, —

       Or strip from the sorbs

       A treasure, so rosy and wondrous,

       Those hairy gold orbs!

       But my mule picked his sure sober path out,

       Just stopping to neigh

       When he recognized down in the valley

       His mates on their way

       With the faggots and barrels of water;

       And soon we emerged

       From the plain, where the woods could scarce follow;

       And still as we urged

       Our way, the woods wondered, and left us,

       As up still we trudged

       Though the wild path grew wilder each instant,

       And place was e’en grudged

       ‘Mid the rock-chasms and piles of loose stones

       (Like the loose broken teeth

       Of some monster which climbed there to die

      


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