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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE MISOGYNIST, by HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: When first he sought our haunts, he wore Last Line: Our course was clear, -- we banished him! Alternate Author Name(s): Dobson, Austin Subject(s): Misogyny | |||
'Il etait un jeune homme d'un bien beau passe.' WHEN first he sought our haunts, he wore His locks in Hamlet-style; His brow with thought was 'sicklied o'er,' -- We rarely saw him smile; And, e'en when none was looking on, His air was always woe-begone. He kept, I think, his bosom bare To imitate Jean Paul; His solitary topics were AEsthetics, Fate, and Soul; -- Although at times, but not for long, He bowed his Intellect to song. He served, he said, a Muse of Tears: I know his verses breathed A fine funereal air of biers, And objects cypress-wreathed; -- Indeed, his tried aquaintance fled An ode he named 'The Sheeted Dead.' In these light moods, I call to mind, He darkly would allude To some dread sorrow undefined, -- Some passion unsubdued; Then break into a ghastly laugh, And talk of Keats his epitaph. He railed at women's faith as Cant; We thought him grandest when He named them Siren-shapes that 'chant On blanching bones of Men'; -- Alas, not e'en the great go free From that insidious minstrelsy! His lot, he oft would gravely urge, Lay on a lone Rock where Around Time-beaten bases surge The Billows of Despair. We dreamed it true. We never knew What gentler ears he told it to. We, bound with him in common care, One-minded, celibate, Resolved to Thought and Diet spare Our lives to dedicate; -- We, truly, in no common sense, Deserved his closest confidence! But soon, and yet, though soon, too late, We, sorrowing, sighed to find A gradual softness enervate That all superior mind, Until, -- in full assembly met, He dared to speak of Etiquette. The verse that we severe had known, Assumed a wanton air, -- A fond effeminate monotone Of eyebrows, lips, and hair; Not inoos stirred him now or vous, He read 'The Angel in the House'! Nay worse. He, once sublime to chaff, Grew ludicrously sore If we but named a photograph We found him simpering o'er; Or told how in his chambers lurked A watch-guard intricately worked. Then worse again. He tried to dress; He trimmed his tragic mane; Announced at length (to our distress) He had not 'lived in vain'; -- Thenceforth his one prevailing mood Became a base beatitude. And O Jean Paul, and Fate, and Soul! We met him last, grown stout, His throat with wedlock's triple roll, 'All wool,' enwound about; His very hat had changed its brim; -- Our course was clear, -- WE BANISHED HIM! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EPITAPH FOR A WOMAN-HATER by HENRY HARRISON UPON SOME WOMEN by ROBERT HERRICK A WARNING by COVENTRY KERSEY DIGHTON PATMORE A FANCY FROM FONTENELLE by HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON A GAGE D'AMOUR by HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON A GARDEN SONG by HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON ARS VICTRIX (IMITATED FROM THEOPHILE GAUTIER) by HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON |
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