Robert Browning - Pomegranates from an English Garden

How spake the Oracle? “Care for no name at all!
Say but just this: We praise one helpful whom we call
The Holder of the Ploughshare. The great deed ne’er grows small.”

Not the great name! Sing – woe for the great name Míltiadés,
And its end at Paros isle! Woe for Themistokles —
Satrap in Sardis court! Name not the clown like these!

Who hears of Helen’s Tower, may dream perchance,
How the Greek Beauty from the Scæan Gate
Gazed on old friends unanimous in hate,
Death-doom’d because of her fair countenance.

Hearts would leap otherwise, at thy advance,
Lady, to whom this Tower is consecrate:
Like hers, thy face once made all eyes elate,
Yet, unlike hers, was bless’d by every glance.

The Tower of Hate is outworn, far and strange:
A transitory shame of long ago,
It dies into the sand from which it sprang:
But thine, Love’s rock-built Tower, shall fear no change:
God’s self laid stable Earth’s foundations so,
When all the morning-stars together sang.

“E il sol montava in su con quelle stelle
Ch’eran con lui, quando l’Amor Divino
Mosse da prima quelle cose belle.”

“Aloft the sun ascended with those stars
That with him rose, when Love Divine first moved
Those its fair works.”
– Inferno I. 38-40.

So, friend, your shop was all your house!
Its front, astonishing the street,
Invited view from man and mouse
To what diversity of treat
Behind its glass – the single sheet!

What gimcracks, genuine Japanese:
Gape-jaw and goggle-eye, the frog;
Dragons, owls, monkeys, beetles, geese;
Some crush-nosed human-hearted dog:
Queer names, too, such a catalogue!

I thought “And he who owns the wealth
“Which blocks the window’s vastitude,
“ – Ah, could I peep at him by stealth
“Behind his ware, pass shop, intrude
“On house itself, what scenes were viewed!

“If wide and showy thus the shop,
“What must the habitation prove?
“The true house with no name a-top —
“The mansion, distant one remove,
“Once get him off his traffic groove!

“Pictures he likes, or books perhaps;
“And as for buying most and best,
“Commend me to these city chaps.
“Or else he’s social, takes his rest
“On Sundays, with a Lord for guest.

“Some suburb-palace, parked about
“And gated grandly, built last year:
“The four-mile walk to keep off gout;
“Or big seat sold by bankrupt peer:
“But then he takes the rail, that’s clear.

“Or, stop! I wager, taste selects
“Some out o’ the way, some all-unknown
“Retreat: the neighbourhood suspects
“Little that he who rambles lone
“Makes Rothschild tremble on his throne!”

Nowise! Nor Mayfair residence
Fit to receive and entertain, —
Nor Hampstead villa’s kind defence
From noise and crowd, from dust and drain, —
Nor country-box was soul’s domain!

Nowise! At back of all that spread
Of merchandize, woe’s me, I find
A hole i’ the wall where, heels by head,
The owner couched, his ware behind,
– In cupboard suited to his mind.

For, why? He saw no use of life
But, while he drove a roaring trade,
To chuckle “Customers are rife!”
To chafe “So much hard cash outlaid
“Yet zero in my profits made!

“This novelty costs pains, but – takes?
“Cumbers my counter! Stock no more!
“This article, no such great shakes,
“Fizzes like wild fire? Underscore
“The cheap thing – thousands to the fore!”

’Twas lodging best to live most nigh
(Cramp, coffinlike as crib might be)
Receipt of Custom; ear and eye
Wanted no outworld: “Hear and see
“The bustle in the shop!” quoth he.

My fancy of a merchant-prince
Was different. Through his wares we groped
Our darkling way to – not to mince
The matter – no black den where moped
The master if we interloped!

Shop was shop only: household-stuff?
What did he want with comforts there?
“Walls, ceiling, floor, stay blank and rough,
“So goods on sale show rich and rare!
“ Sell and scud home ,” be shop’s affair!

What might he deal in? Gems, suppose!
Since somehow business must be done
At cost of trouble, – see, he throws
You choice of jewels, everyone
Good, better, best, star, moon and sun!

Which lies within your power of purse?
This ruby that would tip aright
Solomon’s sceptre? Oh, your nurse
Wants simply coral, the delight
Of teething baby, – stuff to bite!

Howe’er your choice fell, straight you took
Your purchase, prompt your money rang
On counter, – scarce the man forsook
His study of the “Times,” just swang
Till-ward his hand that stopped the clang, —