They loved him more to know that he was mad, And called him "Aged Brother of the Birds" After the fitful manner that he had And his odd way of twittering his words. He was so old they half believed his age Gave him a mystic wisdom from the rest, And thought him priest of some strange heritage And, like the cloister rose-trees, held him blessed; But mad he was; he feared they tried to seize His share of food, and starve him, so he stored Olives and grapes and apricots and cheese In the small drawer beneath his place at board, And while the flying notion was forgot A brother bore the hidden bits away After the drawer was full, and come to rot, Yet he would start to hoard again next day. The brothers saw him often laboring late In the back courtyard where the wash-tubs stood, Bruising his fingers on a scrubbing-grate To cleanse his brown robe and its heavy hood; One evening after sundown when the bell Had chimed the final summons into prayer A brother found him still beside the well, Washing his garment with impassioned care, And said, "Rugino, wilt thou not come in? The chapel fills; now should thy labors wait, The sun is gone, and thou wilt sleep in sin To leave thy prayers unsaid, and time is late; "This is the third day I have passed thee here Scrubbing thy garments at a time for song; See -- thy hands bleed -- such work holds little cheer -- How long wilt wash thy brown robe? pray, how long?" "How long?" Rugino answered him, "Amen! -- Till it is white" -- and dipped the robe again. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FANTAISIES DECORATIVES: 2. LES BALLOONS by OSCAR WILDE SABBATH THOUGHTS by GRACE AGUILAR YOU MAY REMEMBER by LULU PIPER AIKEN INSTEAD OF TEARS by JOSEPH AUSLANDER HERMAN; OR, THE BROKEN SPEAR by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM THE WEE KNITTER by ABBIE FARWELL BROWN THE SWORD OF CASTRUCCIO CASTRACANI by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING |