Oh, I can smile for you, and tilt my head,
And drink your rushing words with eager lips,
And paint my mouth for you a fragrant red,
And trace your brows with tutored finger-tips.
When you rehearse your list of loves to me,
Oh, I can laugh and marvel, rapturous-eyed.
And you laugh back, nor can you ever see
The thousand little deaths my heart has died.
And you believe, so well I know my part,
That I am gay as morning, light as snow,
And all the straining things within my heart
You'll never know.
Oh, I can laugh and listen, when we meet,
And you bring tales of fresh adventurings, —
Of ladies delicately indiscreet,
Of lingering hands, and gently whispered things.
And you are pleased with me, and strive anew
To sing me sagas of your late delights.
Thus do you want me — marveling, gay, and true,
Nor do you see my staring eyes of nights.
And when, in search of novelty, you stray,
Oh, I can kiss you blithely as you go….
And what goes on, my love, while you're away,
You'll never know.
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This poem is... wonderful!
I think that the speaker is actually in love, but she very cynical about the concept of love and her role in the man's life. She is simply supposed to sit there, listen and nod, smile a lot, and make tea, while the inside of her, the true person she is, is dying because it's not being put to any use. It's one of the greatest problems the late 1800s female role, where women were just treated as porcelain, 2D dolls, and had to sit there and smile and accept it, while all the while they were screaming inside. dunno, i just love this poem.
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This poem is wonderful. She is in love and she wants him to know what she can do, yet at the same time she does not want commitment. Because when his back is turned, well... " You'll never know.".
Edited on Apr 07, 1:09 p.m. because 'typo'. -
what kind of poem is this???????????
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I just don't understand the hatred...nor truly philophant's comment. Perhaps I'm just not well enough versed in Browning to catch her drift. However again I can relate with the poet. What I gather her to be saying, is that she can pretend to be this happy, witty charming creature for this man...who'll never know the pains she feels or the sorrow she experiences, she merely plays a role for him, the role he perfers...so as to keep him with her as long as she can...but that she knows he'll soon tire of her, and go off on other adventures or out with other women...but he'll never know all the things that exist inside her heart and mind.
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philophant, I feel you have a somewhat passionate hatred for this woman. Which tells me in a past life she must have been a love, and then she just stepped all over you and now you are paying her back for your heartbreak.
I don't know, i feel she is accurate in this in the viewing of what she perceives it on her part. Tho, the above stanza you mention may be a bit in-accurate, but the rest of the piece is a standpoint and standstill I feel.
Another good piece, and in my opinion I feel philophant is in love. lol!
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"Oh, I can laugh and marvel, rapturous-eyed.
And you laugh back, nor can you ever see
The thousand little deaths my heart has died."
Not true. She may know sometime. Stephen Crane, though an atheist, was more accurate than you about this, milady.
"And when, in search of novelty, you stray,
Oh, I can kiss you blithely as you go ....
And what goes on, my love, while you're away,
You'll never know."
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