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Poem by Rudyard Kipling Lady Geraldine's Hardship E.B. Browning I turned -- Heaven knows we women turn too much To broken reeds, mistaken so for pine That shame forbids confession -- a handle I turned (The wrong one, said the agent afterwards) And so flung clean across your English street Through the shrill-tinkling glass of the shop-front-paused, Artemis mazed 'mid gauds to catch a man, And piteous baby-caps and christening-gowns, The worse for being worn on the radiator. . . . . . . . My cousin Romney judged me from the bench: Propounding one sleek forty-shillinged law That takes no count of the Woman's oversoul. I should have entered, purred he, by the door -- The man's retort -- the open obvious door -- And since I chose not, he -- not he -- could change The man's rule, not the Woman's, for the case. Ten pounds or seven days... Just that... I paid! Rudyard Kipling Rudyard Kipling's other poems: Warning: mysql_num_rows(): supplied argument is not a valid MySQL result resource in /home/geocafeana/eng-poetry.ru/docs/english/Poem.php on line 211 4763 Views |
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