“They called it Annandale—and I was there 
To flourish, to find words, and to attend: 
Liar, physician, hypocrite, and friend, 
I watched him; and the sight was not so fair 
As one or two that I have seen elsewhere:
An apparatus not for me to mend— 
A wreck, with hell between him and the end, 
Remained of Annandale; and I was there. 

“I knew the ruin as I knew the man; 
So put the two together, if you can,
Remembering the worst you know of me. 
Now view yourself as I was, on the spot— 
With a slight kind of engine. Do you see? 
Like this … You wouldn’t hang me? I thought not.” 

Poet: Edwin Arlington Robinson
Poem: How Annandale Went Out
Poem of the Day: May 11 2009

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