Browning's Indifference

"I never pretended to offer such literature as should be a substitute for a cigar or game of dominos to an idle man." -- Robert Browning, 1868.

Dead poet: I don't believe in God,
Or absolute truth, or love as broad
As you'd define it. Already in youth
You exuded the savor of fine vermouth.
Stand still! You waver like the air
That in the desert mirages bear.
It won't suffice to paint your hue,
I must be bold and channel you.
Oh Robert, Robert, sensitive lad!
A liberal torch in Victorian plaid.
First thought: you lived in every word,
A bard of beauty and modes absurd,
Raised in leather-bound company--
Three hundred score books for empathy
Whenever human companionship waned,
A brainy retreat for the lion-maned.
"Incondita" shamed you, but tell me, why?
The lark flutters trimly before it can fly.
You liked a plush, protracted theme,
With lines compounded ream upon ream.
"Sordello" left readers scratching heads;
Such works of particolored threads
Were not yet in fashion, but in later days
Critics smothered you with praise.
You turned your cheek, reshaped your quill,
And went on writing what you will.
Scornful of meat, you browsed the lea,
Plucked pomegranates, sipped Pippamint tea.
Our modern slackers can proudly proclaim
Emulation of Robbie, no blot on one's name
Should one lodge with parents till middle age;
How better to ripen the fruit of the sage?
You wooed Miss Barrett despite her dad,
A rager straight out of the "Iliad."
The Brownings soon moved to Italian rooms,
And in that kind climate burst into blooms.
Your wife made her mark while your sun was half-risen;
Enduring love nixed any ego-collision.
Your writings posed riddles without solutions;
When questioned, you hid within mystic volutions.
The crude and divine, how closely they mingle
In verses of yours; you make spines tingle,
Upsetting some, delighting many;
In the human coin market, you paid pounds for one penny.
Indifferent to life? That's antipoetical,
Contumely bordering on the heretical;
Indifferent to fame? Yes, and yet you achieved it
While we duller Donnes have barely conceived it.