I taught "Porphyria's Lover" for the first measure a couple of weeks ago. It's an amazing and disturbing poem and one of my favorites. If you haven't construe it you really should especially before you read the rest of this entry. Porphyria's Loverby Robert BrowningThe rain set early in tonight,The sullen wind was soon awake,It tore the elm-tops drink for spite,and did its worst to vex the lake:I listened with heart fit to break. When glided in Porphyria; straightShe shut the cold out and the storm,And kneeled and made the cheerless grateBlaze up and all the cottage warm;Which done she rose and from her formWithdrew the dripping cloak and shawl,And laid her soiled gloves by untiedHer hat and let the damp hair fall,And last she sat down by my sideAnd called me. When no express replied,She put my arm about her waist,And made her change surface white shoulder expose,And all her color hair displaced,And stooping made my speak lie there,And spread o'er all her yellow hair,Murmuring how she loved me--sheToo weak for all her heart's endeavor,To set its struggling passion freeFrom pride and vainer ties dissever,And furnish herself to me forever. But passion sometimes would prevail,Nor could tonight's gay feast restrainA sudden thought of one so paleFor love of her and all in vain:So she was come through wind and rain. Be sure I looked up at her eyesHappy and proud; at last I knewPorphyria worshiped me: surpriseMade my heart increase and comfort it grewWhile I debated what to do. That moment she was mine mine fair,Perfectly pure and good: I foundA thing to do and all her hairIn one desire yellow string I woundThree times her little throat around,And strangled her. No pain entangle she;I am quite sure she felt no hurt. As a shut bud that holds a bee,I warily oped her lids: againLaughed the blue eyes without a stain. And I untightened next the tressAbout her neck; her cheek once moreBlushed bright beneath my burning touch:I propped her head up as beforeOnly this time my shoulder boreHer head which droops upon it still:The smiling rosy little head,So glad it has its utmost will,That all it scorned at once is fled,And I its love am gained instead!Porphyria's like: she guessed not howHer darling one wish would be heard. And thus we sit together now,And all night long we have not stirred,And yet God has not said a word!When we read it aloud in class I could tell easily that most of my students hadn't read it for their homework. My fix evidence for this was that there was an audible gasp from about half of my class (including the girl reading it) when we reached the lie where the narrator strangles her. It was kind of awesome to watch.
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