Poets | Poem of the Day | Top 40 | Search | Comments | Privacy
May 4th, 2016 - we have 234 poets, 8,025 poems and 313,730 comments.
Edwin Arlington Robinson - Mr Flood's Party

Old Eben Flood, climbing alone one night
Over the hill between the town below
And the forsaken upland hermitage
That held as much as he should ever know
On earth again of home, paused warily.
The road was his with not a native near;
And Eben, having leisure, said aloud,
For no man else in Tilbury Town to hear:

"Well, Mr. Flood, we have the harvest moon
Again, and we may not have many more;
The bird is on the wing, the poet says,
And you and I have said it here before.
Drink to the bird." He raised up to the light
The jug that he had gone so far to fill,
And answered huskily: "Well, Mr. Flood,
Since you propose it, I believe I will." 

Alone, as if enduring to the end
A valiant armor of scarred hopes outworn,
He stood there in the middle of the road
Like Roland's ghost winding a silent horn.
Below him, in the town among the trees,
Where friends of other days had honored him,
A phantom salutation of the dead
Rang thinly till old Eben's eyes were dim.

Then, as a mother lays her sleeping child
Down tenderly, fearing it may awake,
He set the jug down slowly at his feet
With trembling care, knowing that most things break;
And only when assured that on firm earth
It stood, as the uncertain lives of men
Assuredly did not, he paced away,
And with his hand extended paused again:

"Well, Mr. Flood, we have not met like this
In a long time; and many a change has come
To both of us, I fear, since last it was
We had a drop together. Welcome home!"
Convivially returning with himself,
Again he raised the jug up to the light;
And with an acquiescent quaver said:
"Well, Mr. Flood, if you insist, I might.

"Only a very little, Mr. Flood --
For auld lang syne. No more, sir; that will do."
So, for the time, apparently it did,
And Eben evidently thought so too;
For soon amid the silver loneliness
Of night he lifted up his voice and sang,
Secure, with only two moons listening,
Until the whole harmonious landscape rang --

"For auld lang syne." The weary throat gave out,
The last word wavered; and the song being done,
He raised again the jug regretfully
And shook his head, and was again alone.
There was not much that was ahead of him,
And there was nothing in the town below --
Where strangers would have shut the many doors
That many friends had opened long ago.

Share |

Added: Feb 4 2004 | Viewed: 37812 times | Comments and analysis of Mr Flood's Party by Edwin Arlington Robinson Comments (51)

Mr Flood's Party - Comments and Information

Poet: Edwin Arlington Robinson
Poem: Mr Flood's Party
Poem of the Day: Jul 20 2000

Comment 51 of 51, added on April 6th, 2016 at 5:05 AM.
lGCCtULnUBGk

kuXpTu Real fantastic information can be found on site. I can think of nothing less pleasurable than a life devoted to pleasure. by John D. Rockefeller.

fiverr editor from Russia
Comment 50 of 51, added on April 5th, 2016 at 8:53 PM.
gyKGeEqYyAI

vr717a We stumbled over here by a different web page and thought I might check things out. I like what I see so i am just following you. Look forward to checking out your web page repeatedly.

photo editor from Sweden
Comment 49 of 51, added on February 29th, 2016 at 1:50 PM.
pALwiUhFoEVZm

TARmZM I used to be recommended this blog by way of my cousin.

cocoservice from Costa Rica

Are you looking for more information on this poem? Perhaps you are trying to analyze it? The poem, Mr Flood's Party, has received 51 comments. Click here to read them, and perhaps post a comment of your own.

Poem Info

Robinson Info
Copyright © 2000-2015 Gunnar Bengtsson. All Rights Reserved. Links