Lo! Were I a woman bottled and kept,
written of as battles bloodied and blessed.
I, whose countenance at le Louvre impressed,
One elegiac bard of shreds,[1] reject.
Vestiges of his touch, I disinfect.
Favoring the arms of a breeze or banyan tree.
From chirping mouths of domesticity I flee.
Spinsters promenading upper decks I respect.
Cross the bridge[2] to your best and gentlest lady,[3]
I am no one’s star[4] but my own hunted moon.
In desperate correspondence I’m afraid he
May ether this radiant maw as tea to spoon.
I’d rather blaze in silken flames[5] than fall to his subduction.
Better some tomb couture than brig of my own construction.
***
[1] Fanny’s reaction to Longfellow’s Hyperion, a Romance, written about and for her by Wadsworth Longellow, “She assessed the book overall as, “desultory, objectless, a thing of shreds and patches like the Author’s mind.”(NPS.gov)
[2] “During the [unsuccessful] courtship, Longfellow frequently walked from Cambridge to the Appleton home in Beacon Hill in Boston by crossing the Boston Bridge. That bridge was replaced in 1906 by a new bridge which was later renamed the Longfellow Bridge.”(Wikipedia)
[3] My best and gentlest lady! From Longfellow’s “The Evening Star,” 1846
[4] My morning and my evening star of love! From Longfellow’s “The Evening Star,” 1846
[5] “Frances was putting locks of her children’s hair into an envelope on July 9, 1861 and attempting to seal it with hot sealing wax while Longfellow took a nap. Her dress suddenly caught fire, but it is unclear exactly how; burning wax or a lighted candle may have fallen onto it. She died of her injuries the next morning. He sustained serious burns, and was unable to attend her funeral on July 13, 1861–their eighteenth wedding anniversary.”(Wikipedia)
Photo by Sahaj Bedi on Unsplash
