The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Angel in the House

This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.

Title: The Angel in the House

Author: Coventry Patmore

Release date: May 1, 2003 [eBook #4099]
Most recently updated: August 10, 2014

Language: English

Credits: Transcribed from the 1891 Cassell & Company edition by David Price

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ANGEL IN THE HOUSE ***

Transcribed from the 1891 Cassell & Company edition by David Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org

CASSELL’S NATIONAL LIBRARY

THE
Angel in the House.

BY
COVENTRY PATMORE.

“Par la grace infinie, Dieu les mist au monde ensemble.”

Rousier des Dames.

CASSELL & COMPANY, Limited:
LONDON, PARIS & MELBOURNE.
1891.

THIS POEM
IS INSCRIBED
TO
THE MEMORY OF HER
BY WHOM AND FOR WHOM I BECAME A POET.

INTRODUCTION.

There could be but one answer to the suggestion of Mr. Coventry Patmore that his “Angel in the House” might usefully have a place in this “National Library.” The suggestion was made with the belief that wide and cheap diffusion would not take from the value of a copyright library edition, while the best use of writing is fulfilled by the spreading of verse dedicated to the sacred love of home. The two parts of the Poem appeared in 1854 and 1856, were afterwards elaborately revised, and have since obtained a permanent place among the Home Books of the English People. Our readers will join, surely, in thanks to the author for the present he has made us.

H. M.

BOOK I.
			PAGE
		THE PROLOGUE.	13
CANTO
I.	THE CATHEDRAL CLOSE		17
	Preludes:
	1.	The Impossibility	17
	2.	Love’s Really	17
	3.	The Poet’s Confidence	18
	The Cathedral Close		19
II.	MARY AND MILDRED		24
	Preludes:
	1.	The Paragon	24
	2.	Love at Large	26
	3.	Love and Duty	27
	4.	A Distinction	28
	Mary and Mildred		28
III.	HONORIA		32
	Preludes:
	1.	The Lover	32
	2.	Love a Virtue	34
	3.	The Attainment	34
	Honoria		35
IV.	THE MORNING CALL		39
	Preludes:
	1.	The Rose of the World	39
	2.	The Tribute	41
	3.	Compensation	42
	The Morning Call		42
V.	THE VIOLETS		46
	Preludes:
	1.	The Comparison	46
	2.	Love in Tears	48
	3.	Prospective Faith	48
	4.	Venus Victrix	49
	The Violets		49
VI.	THE DEAN		53
	Preludes:
	1.	Perfect Love rare	53
	2.	Love Justified	54
	3.	Love Serviceable	55
	4.	A Riddle Solved	56
	The Dean		56
VII.	ÆTNA AND THE MOON		60
	Preludes:
	1.	Love’s Immortality	60
	2.	Heaven and Earth	61
	Ætna and the Moon		62
VIII.	SARUM PLAIN		66
	Preludes:
	1.	Life of Life	66
	2.	The Revelation	67
	3.	The Spirit’s Epochs	67
	4.	The Prototype	68
	5.	The Praise of Love	68
	Sarum Plain		69
IX.	SAHARA		74
	Preludes:
	1.	The Wife’s Tragedy	74
	2.	Common Graces	75
	3.	The Zest of Life	76
	4.	Fool and Wise	76
	Sahara		77
X.	CHURCH TO CHURCH		81
	Preludes:
	1.	The Joyful Wisdom	81
	2.	The Devices	84
	Going to Church		84
XI.	THE DANCE		89
	Preludes:
	1.	The Daughter of Eve	89
	2.	Aurea Dicta	91
	The Dance		93
XII.	THE ABDICATION		97
	Preludes:
	1.	The Chace	97
	2.	Denied	100
	3.	The Churl	101
	The Abdication		102
BOOK II.
	THE PROLOGUE		105
I.	ACCEPTED		109
	Preludes:
	1.	The Song of Songs	109
	2.	The Kites	110
	3.	Orpheus	111
	4.	Nearest the Dearest	111
	5.	Perspective	112
	Accepted		112
II.	THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE		116
	Preludes:
	1.	The Changed Allegiance	116
	2.	Beauty	120
	3.	Lais and Lucretia	120
	The Course of True Love		121
III.	THE COUNTRY BALL		126
	Preludes:
	1.	Love Ceremonious	126
	2.	The Rainbow	127
	3.	A Paradox	127
	The County Ball		128
IV.	LOVE IN IDLENESS		132
	Preludes:
	1.	Honour and Desert	132
	2.	Love and Honour	133
	3.	Valour Misdirected	134
	Love in Idleness		134
V.	THE QUEEN’S ROOM		139
	Preludes:
	1.	Rejected	139
	2.	Rachel	140
	3.	The Heart’s Prophecies	141
	The Queen’s Room		141
VI.	THE LOVE-LETTERS		145
	Preludes:
	1.	Love’s Perversity	145
	2.	The Power of Love	147
	The Love-Letters		148
VII.	THE REVULSION		152
	Preludes:
	1.	Joy and Use	152
	2.	‘She was Mine’	153
	The Revulsion		153
VIII.	THE KOH-I-NOOR		158
	Preludes:
	1.	In Love	158
	2.	Love Thinking	160
	3.	The Kiss	161
	The Koh-i-noor		161
IX.	THE FRIENDS		165
	Preludes:
	1.	The Nursling of Civility	165
	2.	The Foreign Land	166
	3.	Disappointment	166
	The Friends		167
X.	THE EPITAPH		170
	Preludes:
	1.	Frost in Harvest	170
	2.	Felicity	171
	3.	Marriage Indissoluble	172
	The Epitaph		172
XI.	THE WEDDING		176
	Preludes:
	1.	Platonic Love	176
	2.	A Demonstration	177
	3.	The Symbol	178
	4.	Constancy Rewarded	178
	The Wedding		179
XII.	HUSBAND AND WIFE		183
	Preludes:
	1.	The Married Lover	183
	2.	The Amaranth	184
	Husband and Wife		185
	The Epilogue		189

Book I.

THE PROLOGUE.

1

‘Mine is no horse with wings, to gain
   The region of the spheral chime;
He does but drag a rumbling wain,
   Cheer’d by the coupled bells of rhyme;
And if at Fame’s bewitching note
   My homely Pegasus pricks an ear,
The world’s cart-collar hugs his throat,
   And he’s too wise to prance or rear.’

2

Thus ever answer’d Vaughan his Wife,
   Who, more than he, desired his fame;
But, in his heart, his thoughts were rife
   How for her sake to earn a name.
With bays poetic three times crown’d,
   And other college honours won,
He, if he chose, might be renown’d,
   He had but little doubt, she none;
And in a loftier phrase he talk’d
   With her, upon their Wedding-Day,
(The eighth), while through the fields they walk’d,
   Their children shouting by the way.

3

‘Not careless of the gift of song,
   Nor out of love with noble fame,
I, meditating much and long
   What I should sing, how win a name,
Considering well what theme unsung,
   What reason worth the cost of rhyme,
Remains to loose the poet’s tongue
   In these last days, the dregs of time,
Learn that to me, though born so late,
   There does, beyond desert, befall
(May my great fortune make me great!)
   The first of themes, sung last of all.
In green and undiscover’d ground,
   Yet near where many others sing,
I have the very well-head found
   Whence gushes the Pierian Spring.’

4

Then she: ‘What is it, Dear? The Life
   Of Arthur, or Jerusalem’s Fall?’
‘Neither: your gentle self, my Wife,
   And love, that grows from one to all.
And if I faithfully proclaim
   Of these the exceeding worthiness,
Surely the sweetest wreath of Fame
   Shall, to your hope, my brows caress;
And if, by virtue of my choice
   Of this, the most heart-touching theme
That ever tuned a poet’s voice,
   I live, as I am bold to dream,
To be delight to many days,
   And into silence only cease
When those are still, who shared their bays
   With Laura and with Beatrice,
Imagine, Love, how learned men
   Will deep-conceiv’d devices find,
Beyond my purpose and my ken,
   An ancient bard of simple mind.
You, Sweet, his Mistress, Wife, and Muse,
   Were you for mortal woman meant?
Your praises give a hundred clues
   To mythological intent!
And, severing thus the truth from trope,
   In you the Commentators see
Outlines occult of abstract scope,
   A future for philosophy!
Your arm’s on mine! these are the meads
   In which we pass our living days;
There Avon runs, now hid with reeds,
   Now brightly brimming pebbly bays;
Those are our children’s songs that come
   With bells and bleatings of the sheep;
And there, in yonder English home,
   We thrive on mortal food and sleep!’
She laugh’d. How proud she always was
   To feel how proud he was of her!
But he had grown distraught, because
   The Muse’s mood began to stir.

5

His purpose with performance crown’d,
He to his well-pleased Wife rehears’d,
When next their Wedding-Day came round,
His leisure’s labour, ‘Book the First.’

CANTO I
The Cathedral Close.

PRELUDES.

I.
The Impossibility.

Lo, love’s obey’d by all. ’Tis right
   That all should know what they obey,
Lest erring conscience damp delight,
   And folly laugh our joys away.
Thou Primal Love, who grantest wings
   And voices to the woodland birds,
Grant me the power of saying things
   Too simple and too sweet for words!

II.
Love’s Really.

I walk, I trust, with open eyes;
   I’ve travell’d half my worldly course;
And in the way behind me lies
   Much vanity and some remorse;
I’ve lived to feel how pride may part
   Spirits, tho’ match’d like hand and glove;
I’ve blush’d for love’s abode, the heart;
   But have not disbelieved in love;
Nor unto love, sole mortal thing
   Of worth immortal, done the wrong
To count it, with the rest that sing,
   Unworthy of a serious song;
And love is my reward; for now,
   When most of dead’ning time complain,
The myrtle blooms upon my brow,
   Its odour quickens all my brain.

III.
The Poet’s Confidence.

The richest realm of all the earth
   Is counted still a heathen land:
Lo, I, like Joshua, now go forth
   To give it into Israel’s hand.
I will not hearken blame or praise;
   For so should I dishonour do
To that sweet Power by which these Lays
   Alone are lovely, good, and true;
Nor credence to the world’s cries give,
   Which ever preach and still prevent
Pure passion’s high prerogative
   To make, not follow, precedent.
From love’s abysmal ether rare
   If I to men have here made known
New truths, they, like new stars, were there
   Before, though not yet written down.
Moving but as the feelings move,
   I run, or loiter with delight,
Or pause to mark where gentle Love
   Persuades the soul from height to height.
Yet, know ye, though my words are gay
   As David’s dance, which Michal scorn’d.
If kindly you receive the Lay,
   You shall be sweetly help’d and warn’d.

THE CATHEDRAL CLOSE.

CANTO II.
Mary And Mildred.

PRELUDES.

I.
The Paragon.

When I behold the skies aloft
   Passing the pageantry of dreams,
The cloud whose bosom, cygnet-soft,
   A couch for nuptial Juno seems,
The ocean broad, the mountains bright,
   The shadowy vales with feeding herds,
I from my lyre the music smite,
   Nor want for justly matching words.
All forces of the sea and air,
   All interests of hill and plain,
I so can sing, in seasons fair,
   That who hath felt may feel again.
Elated oft by such free songs,
   I think with utterance free to raise
That hymn for which the whole world longs,
   A worthy hymn in woman’s praise;
A hymn bright-noted like a bird’s,
   Arousing these song-sleepy times
With rhapsodies of perfect words,
   Ruled by returning kiss of rhymes.
But when I look on her and hope
   To tell with joy what I admire,
My thoughts lie cramp’d in narrow scope,
   Or in the feeble birth expire;
No mystery of well-woven speech,
   No simplest phrase of tenderest fall,
No liken’d excellence can reach
   Her, thee most excellent of all,
The best half of creation’s best,
   Its heart to feel, its eye to see,
The crown and complex of the rest,
   Its aim and its epitome.
Nay, might I utter my conceit,
   ’Twere after all a vulgar song,
For she’s so simply, subtly sweet,
   My deepest rapture does her wrong.
Yet is it now my chosen task
   To sing her worth as Maid and Wife;
Nor happier post than this I ask,
   To live her laureate all my life.
On wings of love uplifted free,
   And by her gentleness made great,
I’ll teach how noble man should be
   To match with such a lovely mate;
And then in her may move the more
   The woman’s wish to be desired,
(By praise increased), till both shall soar,
   With blissful emulations fired.
And, as geranium, pink, or rose
   Is thrice itself through power of art,
So may my happy skill disclose
   New fairness even in her fair heart;
Until that churl shall nowhere be
   Who bends not, awed, before the throne
Of her affecting majesty,
   So meek, so far unlike our own;
Until (for who may hope too much
   From her who wields the powers of love?)
Our lifted lives at last shall touch
   That happy goal to which they move;
Until we find, as darkness rolls
   Away, and evil mists dissolve,
That nuptial contrasts are the poles
   On which the heavenly spheres revolve.

II.
Love at Large.

Whene’er I come where ladies are,
   How sad soever I was before,
Though like a ship frost-bound and far
   Withheld in ice from the ocean’s roar,
Third-winter’d in that dreadful dock,
   With stiffen’d cordage, sails decay’d,
And crew that care for calm and shock
   Alike, too dull to be dismay’d,
Yet, if I come where ladies are,
   How sad soever I was before,
Then is my sadness banish’d far,
   And I am like that ship no more;
Or like that ship if the ice-field splits,
   Burst by the sudden polar Spring,
And all thank God with their warming wits,
   And kiss each other and dance and sing,
And hoist fresh sails, that make the breeze
   Blow them along the liquid sea,
Out of the North, where life did freeze,
   Into the haven where they would be.

III.
Love and Duty.

Anne lived so truly from above,
   She was so gentle and so good,
That duty bade me fall in love,
   And ‘but for that,’ thought I, ‘I should!’
I worshipp’d Kate with all my will,
   In idle moods you seem to see
A noble spirit in a hill,
   A human touch about a tree.

IV.
A Distinction.

The lack of lovely pride, in her
Who strives to please, my pleasure numbs,
And still the maid I most prefer
Whose care to please with pleasing comes.

MARY AND MILDRED.

1

One morning, after Church, I walk’d
   Alone with Mary on the lawn,
And felt myself, howe’er we talk’d,
   To grave themes delicately drawn.
When she, delighted, found I knew
   More of her peace than she supposed,
Our confidences heavenwards grew,
   Like fox-glove buds, in pairs disclosed.
Our former faults did we confess,
   Our ancient feud was more than heal’d,
And, with the woman’s eagerness
   For amity full-sign’d and seal’d,
She, offering up for sacrifice
   Her heart’s reserve, brought out to show
Some verses, made when she was ice
   To all but Heaven, six years ago;
Since happier grown! I took and read
   The neat-writ lines. She, void of guile,
Too late repenting, blush’d, and said,
   I must not think about the style.

2

‘Day after day, until to-day,
Imaged the others gone before,
The same dull task, the weary way,
The weakness pardon’d o’er and o’er,

‘The thwarted thirst, too faintly felt,
For joy’s well-nigh forgotten life,
The restless heart, which, when I knelt,
Made of my worship barren strife.

‘Ah, whence to-day’s so sweet release,
This clearance light of all my care,
This conscience free, this fertile peace,
These softly folded wings of prayer,

‘This calm and more than conquering love,
With which nought evil dares to cope,
This joy that lifts no glance above,
For faith too sure, too sweet for hope?

‘O, happy time, too happy change,
It will not live, though fondly nurst!
Full soon the sun will seem as strange
As now the cloud which seems dispersed.’

3

She from a rose-tree shook the blight;
   And well she knew that I knew well
Her grace with silence to requite;
   And, answering now the luncheon bell,
I laugh’d at Mildred’s laugh, which made
   All melancholy wrong, its mood
Such sweet self-confidence display’d,
   So glad a sense of present good.

4

I laugh’d and sigh’d: for I confess
   I never went to Ball, or Fête,
Or Show, but in pursuit express
   Of my predestinated mate;
And thus to me, who had in sight
   The happy chance upon the cards,
Each beauty blossom’d in the light
   Of tender personal regards;
And, in the records of my breast,
   Red-letter’d, eminently fair,
Stood sixteen, who, beyond the rest,
   By turns till then had been my care:
At Berlin three, one at St. Cloud,
   At Chatteris, near Cambridge, one,
At Ely four, in London two,
   Two at Bowness, in Paris none,
And, last and best, in Sarum three;
   But dearest of the whole fair troop,
In judgment of the moment, she
   Whose daisy eyes had learn’d to droop.
Her very faults my fancy fired;
   My loving will, so thwarted, grew;
And, bent on worship, I admired
   Whate’er she was, with partial view.
And yet when, as to-day, her smile
   Was prettiest, I could not but note
Honoria, less admired the while,
   Was lovelier, though from love remote.

CANTO III.
Honoria

PRELUDES.

I.
The Lover.

He meets, by heavenly chance express,
   The destined maid; some hidden hand
Unveils to him that loveliness
   Which others cannot understand.
His merits in her presence grow,
   To match the promise in her eyes,
And round her happy footsteps blow
   The authentic airs of Paradise.
For joy of her he cannot sleep;
   Her beauty haunts him all the night;
It melts his heart, it makes him weep
   For wonder, worship, and delight.
O, paradox of love, he longs,
   Most humble when he most aspires,
To suffer scorn and cruel wrongs
   From her he honours and desires.
Her graces make him rich, and ask
   No guerdon; this imperial style
Affronts him; he disdains to bask,
   The pensioner of her priceless smile.
He prays for some hard thing to do,
   Some work of fame and labour immense,
To stretch the languid bulk and thew
   Of love’s fresh-born magnipotence.
No smallest boon were bought too dear,
   Though barter’d for his love-sick life;
Yet trusts he, with undaunted cheer,
   To vanquish heaven, and call her Wife
He notes how queens of sweetness still
   Neglect their crowns, and stoop to mate;
How, self-consign’d with lavish will,
   They ask but love proportionate;
How swift pursuit by small degrees,
   Love’s tactic, works like miracle;
How valour, clothed in courtesies,
   Brings down the haughtiest citadel;
And therefore, though he merits not
   To kiss the braid upon her skirt,
His hope, discouraged ne’er a jot,
   Out-soars all possible desert.

II.
Love a Virtue.

Strong passions mean weak will, and he
   Who truly knows the strength and bliss
Which are in love, will own with me
   No passion but a virtue ’tis.
Few hear my word; it soars above
   The subtlest senses of the swarm
Of wretched things which know not love,
   Their Psyche still a wingless worm.
Ice-cold seems heaven’s noble glow
   To spirits whose vital heat is hell;
And to corrupt hearts even so
   The songs I sing, the tale I tell.
These cannot see the robes of white
   In which I sing of love. Alack,
But darkness shows in heavenly light,
   Though whiteness, in the dark, is black!

III.
The Attainment.

You love? That’s high as you shall go;
For ’tis as true as Gospel text,
Not noble then is never so,
Either in this world or the next.

HONORIA.

1

Grown weary with a week’s exile
   From those fair friends, I rode to see
The church-restorings; lounged awhile,
   And met the Dean; was ask’d to tea,
And found their cousin, Frederick Graham
   At Honor’s side. Was I concern’d,
If, when she sang, his colour came,
   That mine, as with a buffet, burn’d?
A man to please a girl! thought I,
   Retorting his forced smiles, the shrouds
Of wrath, so hid as she was by,
   Sweet moon between her lighted clouds!

2

Whether this Cousin was the cause
   I know not, but I seem’d to see,
The first time then, how fair she was,
   How much the fairest of the three.
Each stopp’d to let the other go;
   But, time-bound, he arose the first.
Stay’d he in Sarum long? If so
   I hoped to see him at the Hurst.
No: he had call’d here, on his way
   To Portsmouth, where the Arrogant,
His ship, was; he should leave next day,
   For two years’ cruise in the Levant.

3

Had love in her yet struck its germs?
   I watch’d. Her farewell show’d me plain
She loved, on the majestic terms
   That she should not be loved again;
And so her cousin, parting, felt.
   Hope in his voice and eye was dead.
Compassion did my malice melt;
   Then went I home to a restless bed.
I, who admired her too, could see
   His infinite remorse at this
Great mystery, that she should be
   So beautiful, yet not be his,
And, pitying, long’d to plead his part;
   But scarce could tell, so strange my whim,
Whether the weight upon my heart
   Was sorrow for myself or him.

4

She was all mildness; yet ’twas writ
   In all her grace, most legibly,
‘He that’s for heaven itself unfit,
   Let him not hope to merit me.’
And such a challenge, quite apart
   From thoughts of love, humbled, and thus
To sweet repentance moved my heart,
   And made me more magnanimous,
And led me to review my life,
   Inquiring where in aught the least,
If question were of her for wife,
   Ill might be mended, hope increas’d.
Not that I soar’d so far above
   Myself, as this great hope to dare;
And yet I well foresaw that love
   Might hope where reason must despair;
And, half-resenting the sweet pride
   Which would not ask me to admire,
‘Oh,’ to my secret heart I sigh’d,
   ‘That I were worthy to desire!’

5

As drowsiness my brain reliev’d,
   A shrill defiance of all to arms,
Shriek’d by the stable-cock, receiv’d
   An angry answer from three farms.
And, then, I dream’d that I, her knight,
   A clarion’s haughty pathos heard,
And rode securely to the fight,
   Cased in the scarf she had conferr’d;
And there, the bristling lists behind,
   Saw many, and vanquish’d all I saw
Of her unnumber’d cousin-kind,
   In Navy, Army, Church, and Law;
Smitten, the warriors somehow turn’d
   To Sarum choristers, whose song,
Mix’d with celestial sorrow, yearn’d
   With joy no memory can prolong;
And phantasms as absurd and sweet
   Merged each in each in endless chace,
And everywhere I seem’d to meet
   The haunting fairness of her face.

CANTO IV.
The Morning Call.

PRELUDES.

I.
The Rose of the World.

Lo, when the Lord made North and South
   And sun and moon ordained, He,
Forthbringing each by word of mouth
   In order of its dignity,
Did man from the crude clay express
   By sequence, and, all else decreed,
He form’d the woman; nor might less
   Than Sabbath such a work succeed.
And still with favour singled out,
   Marr’d less than man by mortal fall,
Her disposition is devout,
   Her countenance angelical;
The best things that the best believe
   Are in her face so kindly writ
The faithless, seeing her, conceive
   Not only heaven, but hope of it;
No idle thought her instinct shrouds,
   But fancy chequers settled sense,
Like alteration of the clouds
   On noonday’s azure permanence;
Pure dignity, composure, ease
   Declare affections nobly fix’d,
And impulse sprung from due degrees
   Of sense and spirit sweetly mix’d.
Her modesty, her chiefest grace,
   The cestus clasping Venus’ side,
How potent to deject the face
   Of him who would affront its pride!
Wrong dares not in her presence speak,
   Nor spotted thought its taint disclose
Under the protest of a cheek
   Outbragging Nature’s boast the rose.
In mind and manners how discreet;
   How artless in her very art;
How candid in discourse; how sweet
   The concord of her lips and heart;
How simple and how circumspect;
   How subtle and how fancy-free;
Though sacred to her love, how deck’d
   With unexclusive courtesy;
How quick in talk to see from far
   The way to vanquish or evade;
How able her persuasions are
   To prove, her reasons to persuade;
How (not to call true instinct’s bent
   And woman’s very nature, harm),
How amiable and innocent
   Her pleasure in her power to charm;
How humbly careful to attract,
   Though crown’d with all the soul desires,
Connubial aptitude exact,
   Diversity that never tires.

II.
The Tribute.

Boon Nature to the woman bows;
   She walks in earth’s whole glory clad,
And, chiefest far herself of shows,
   All others help her, and are glad:
No splendour ’neath the sky’s proud dome
   But serves for her familiar wear;
The far-fetch’d diamond finds its home
   Flashing and smouldering in her hair;
For her the seas their pearls reveal;
   Art and strange lands her pomp supply
With purple, chrome, and cochineal,
   Ochre, and lapis lazuli;
The worm its golden woof presents;
   Whatever runs, flies, dives, or delves,
All doff for her their ornaments,
   Which suit her better than themselves;
And all, by this their power to give,
   Proving her right to take, proclaim
Her beauty’s clear prerogative
   To profit so by Eden’s blame.

III.
Compensation.

That nothing here may want its praise,
Know, she who in her dress reveals
A fine and modest taste, displays
More loveliness than she conceals.

THE MORNING CALL.

1

‘By meekness charm’d, or proud to allow
   A queenly claim to live admired,
Full many a lady has ere now
   My apprehensive fancy fired,
And woven many a transient chain;
   But never lady like to this,
Who holds me as the weather-vane
   Is held by yonder clematis.
She seems the life of nature’s powers;
   Her beauty is the genial thought
Which makes the sunshine bright; the flowers,
   But for their hint of her, were nought.’

2

A voice, the sweeter for the grace
   Of suddenness, while thus I dream’d,
‘Good morning!’ said or sang. Her face
   The mirror of the morning seem’d.
Her sisters in the garden walk’d,
   And would I come? Across the Hall
She led me; and we laugh’d and talk’d,
   And praised the Flower-show and the Ball;
And Mildred’s pinks had gain’d the Prize;
   And, stepping like the light-foot fawn,
She brought me ‘Wiltshire Butterflies,’
   The Prize-book; then we paced the lawn,
Close-cut, and with geranium-plots,
   A rival glow of green and red;
Than counted sixty apricots
   On one small tree; the gold-fish fed;
And watch’d where, black with scarlet tans,
   Proud Psyche stood and flash’d like flame,
Showing and shutting splendid fans;
   And in the prize we found its name.

The Angel in the House

About This Book

The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Angel in the House

THE Angel in the House.

THE PROLOGUE.

1

2

3

5

PRELUDES.

I. The Impossibility.

II. Love’s Really.

III. The Poet’s Confidence.

THE CATHEDRAL CLOSE.

1

2

4

5

PRELUDES.

I. The Paragon.

II. Love at Large.

III. Love and Duty.

MARY AND MILDRED.

1

2

4

PRELUDES.

I. The Lover.

III. The Attainment.

1

2

3

4

5

PRELUDES.

I. The Rose of the World.

II. The Tribute.

III. Compensation.

THE MORNING CALL.

1

3

THE
Angel in the House.

I.
The Impossibility.

II.
Love’s Really.

III.
The Poet’s Confidence.

I.
The Paragon.

II.
Love at Large.

III.
Love and Duty.

I.
The Lover.

III.
The Attainment.

I.
The Rose of the World.

II.
The Tribute.

III.
Compensation.