So Sayeth Fitzwilliam Darcy Upon The Occasion
Of Observing Elizabeth Bennet
"Well, they are fine eyes, fine indeed, I say,
full of fire and shining in the glow
of embers smoldering at the close of day.
I shall remember long, and this I know
Fine eyes shall haunt me all my moments now,
that haughty look, and mouth set firm and straight.
And to her curtsey, make my sweeping bow
to leave at once and close the garden gate.
Should I but see her one more time, I pledge
to take her in my arms and end this feud.
She's brought me to the rim, the very edge
of wild madness and desire, my mood
has changed from lofty pride and prejudice
to teeter at the brink, love's precipice."
Miss Bennet's Response
"Kind sir, you do me honor with such praise
I know not words in answer to your plight.
The eyes that you call fine, are not so bright
when in their mirrored image, lies your gaze.
Before me stands a man, in many ways
mysterious as the moors in dark of night
where I would venture not, nor find delight
in running through such convoluted maze.
And thus I do beseech you, leave me be!
I turn my head from everything you do
and will not further play your game for sport.
Your arrogance and pride are plain to see,
my thoughts I'll put on hold, so I'll not rue
the giving of my heart, which thus you court."
From Darcy to Elizabeth
"So say you, fair Elizabeth, your words
do cut me to the bone, in truth, I find
my beating heart, once soaring with the birds,
has now become entangled and entwined.
Torn between desire and duty bound,
yet everywhere I turn, I see your face.
Within my head and heart my blood doth pound
nor any memory of you can I erase.
My station such in life, I cannot bend
to marry far beneath my class and rank.
I see no future here, and needs must end
this quest for love, my mind must come a blank.
Only know this, my sweet, you will remain
locked in my heart, your key upon my chain."
From Jane to Lizzy-
"I heard you weeping in your room this eve
and knowing what it was you're weeping for,
I paused but did not tap upon the door
but left you to your thoughts. This I believe,
You seek to give your aching heart reprieve
from all the sorrow and, indeed, from more.
Your wounds are deep, he's cut you to the core,
You cry within and let your bosom heave.
My dear, sweet sister, I know love as well,
for I love one whose passion's not returned
To bathe me in its light. I'm filled with tears.
'Tis true, I weep as daylight tolls its knell,
the fire of love which once within me burned
Is quickly smothered by my dread and fears."
Words of Wisdom from Mrs. Bennet
"You silly girls, to weep and moan in vain,
be like my Lydia, full of youth and fire.
If you become old maids, I'll go insane
for marrying you off is my desire.
A regimental man is what you need
all spit and polish with his sword in hand.
Or else a man with property and deed,
ten thousand pounds would be so very grand.
I'll never understand you, Lizzy dear,
now my sweet Jane, she stands a better chance
for capturing that Bingley heart. 'Tis clear
she far outshines you at the local dance.
Oh, my poor nerves, yes, my poor nerves, 'tis true,
the grave will claim me, err a man claims you!"
From Mr. Bennet - I'm not a poetic man
I'm not a poetic man by nature, more
a lover of books. My choice is to peruse
my library and select an old friend.
What rapture, to shut out the confusion
of the world, to insulate myself against
the chatter of silly girls, and the incessant
banter of my wife,
whom I once loved,
though it was long ago, so long ago.
Ah, old friend, what say you to me,
upon the printed page?
A tonic for my soul.
How dare you, sir, lay claim to interfere
between my sweetest sister and her love!
She is the gentlest angel, a white dove
compared to your black heart. I'd venture here
to tell you what I think, that you besmear
a lady of such kindness and above
all else, sir, were I male, you'd take my glove
across your cheek, were I a musketeer!
It grieves me when I see my sister cry,
and oh, it irks me when I see your face
the smugness of your tone which does belie
the blackness of your soul, which is so base.
But oh, I am a lady, more's the pain,
'tis clear to me, I'll not see you again!
- Mistress Mary
Mistress Mary, quite contrary,
her nose within a book.
Come between her and the page,
you'll surely get a look.
One wonders if Miss Mary B,
she who never smiles,
will win the heart of any man
plying female wiles.
Mistress Mary, plays her airy
tunes without a care.
Lest any question what she thinks
Miss Mary gives a stare.
She's not concerned with men or boys,
she reads to fill her mind,
and wonders why men pass her by
when she is so refined.
Georgiana smiles, oh, such a sweet sad smile,
but there is none to see it save the rose.
And he who saw it just a little while
has gone to court another, well she knows.
When you are young, you give your heart away
soft, like a butterfly upon a flower.
A lover's happiness will seldom stay
and thoughts of him will pass upon the hour.
Sweet love which claimed her heart, is now a thorn
a stain upon her bosom, red as blood.
It disappears as night fades into dawn
but memory remains, a small sweet bud.
Where once sprang hope, now loneliness takes root
and lover's words upon the air, are mute.
Mr. Hurst to Mrs. Hurst
Hrrrummph, what's that you say,
a visitor has come our way?
Well, my dear, please panic not
though others call me 'drunken sot,'
I sleep, perchance, only a little
and though you think me non-committal,
I snore, I start, I voice a word
of wisdom, on occasion heard.
The running of affairs I leave
to you, my dear, I can perceive
that with your sister, Caroline,
our ship sails on in fine design.
Just deal the cards, we'll play a game
I drink to our most glorious name!
Caroline Bingley to Jane
Dear Jane, your sweetness and your charming way
do us great honour in your visit here.
Your company is welcome, please do stay
we're glad of any news that is of cheer.
(Alas, Louisa, she is most distressed
to learn that brother Charles has since departed.
'Tis certain she will not stay long as our guest
see how she pales; indeed, is quite faint-hearted.)
And how is dear Eliza, and your mother,
your father, too, and all the Bennets fair?
(Might I insist we talk about my brother
Or would that be too much for her to bear?)
Why must you leave so soon, my dearest Jane?
(Louisa, dear, she has our message plain.)
Passion and Pain
I am out of favour, that is sure
and know not how to win the lady fair.
Perchance that I should love her less, not more,
though loving less I truly could not bear.
I walk a path and either way I turn
she stands before me, face so filled with scorn
that I must needs retreat. Or else I burn,
consumed by flames. Such pain cannot be borne.
'Tis best to offer coldness to her fire,
ice to chill my passion and my pain.
I sink within a quicksand full of mire,
nor any hand extended for my gain.
My heart will thus a frozen wasteland be
until my dearest lady sets me free.
Our Aunt Gardiner is a woman
who has her nieces' gratitude.
Though she's fond of the three youngest
Jane and Lizzy suit her mood.
When Auntie Gardiner comes to visit
What an uproar, what a fuss!
Lydia vying for attention,
Mary, quite oblivious.
Sister Kitty, always pouting,
"Because it's Lydia, you see,
getting all Mama's attention,
while surely nothing comes to me!"
Auntie Gardiner comes to visit
liking her two nieces so,
When Mrs. Bennet starts her whining,
Our dear Aunt just has to go.
And so, our Lizzy is invited
For some splendid country rides.
While Jane's content to do her sewing,
Lizzy to her aunt, confides
The Sad Tale of Wickham's Fortune
Our Darcy's off to London Town
To search for Wickham's lair.
His face is grim, his manner cold
will he find him there?
Up and down the cold damp streets
chilled right to the bone,
Darcy's spied by Lydia,
Wickham gives a groan.
Now that he's found out at last,
Lydia is all aglow
but our Wickham's blue.
For now he'll have to marry her
Oh, what an ill-timed fate!
Darcy stands right by his side
to set the wedding date.
Lydia's happy as a lark
but Wickham hardly smiles,
for our handsome gentleman
is trapped by his own wiles.
Darcy's paid off all his debts
his way is free and clear,
to marry silly Lydia
He should be of good cheer.
But Wickham frowns and curses fate
no dowry can he see,
just years of "endless" happiness.
Oh, what joy 'twill be
married to sweet Lydia,
and who can ever guess
that Wickham in his fine red coat
has made an awful mess!
Mrs. Bennet, All A-Flutter
Oh, Mr. Wickham, I am so delighted
to meet you in your regimental fare.
My girls are all aglow and quite excited
just to see you smartly standing there.
What's that you say? The ladies are so pretty?
Indeed, to pick and choose might be great fun.
They think you very splendid and so witty
surely 'mongst my daughters there is one
who will catch your eye, and turn your head?
Perhaps our Kitty? No, you think it not?
Maybe Mary, she is so well read?
With whom, then, will you surely cast your lot?
Oh dear sir, turn not your glance away
to let another's dowry be your sway!
Lizzy, to Aunt Gardiner
Dear Aunt, perchance I'll ride with you today,
a very pleasant ride it well may be
and such an air of geniality
for surely here at Longbourn I can't stay.
No, not a moment longer shall delay
this lovely carriage ride, so let us three
depart. My Uncle, dearest Aunt, so we
can seek the harmony of nature's way.
Let us now view the rolling hills around,
this country air is pure and very sweet.
Nature, in its gladness, doth surround
and all is rhythm to my heart's own beat.
Dear Aunt, I seek a respite from the strife
and very latest turmoil in my life.
The Bennet Sisters
Sister Kitty runs away
when Mr. Collins comes their way
to offer solace plain and true-
the sisters stand, but he's not through.
He pities them and more's the pain,
he keeps repeating it again
while sister Mary, ever quoting
from her wounded breast emoting-
makes poor Lizzy roll her eyes
as sister Jane, in soft disguise,
sweetly smiles and leads the way
hoping he'll make haste this day
back to Rosings, where he will
give sharp report on every ill
that befalls the Bennet name,
enjoying his small bit of fame.
Kitty had the right idea
to keep herself completely clear
of Mr. Collins and his prattle,
how he loves to tell and tattle.
Lady Catherine, now sequestered,
seeks the answer she's requested,
are the Bennet girls contrite
at their sister Lydia's plight?
Our Darcy sees the pond and plunges in,
his passion to be surely tempered now.
The chilly water cools his flaming skin
and soothes the fever burning 'pon his brow.
Such thoughts of sweet Elizabeth are held
in careful check; so creeps an icy chill
with which he steels his heart and is compelled
to think upon her less. With iron will
he struggles to subdue all dreams of her,
to climb the bank and shiver in the cold.
Thus striding through the glade, such thoughts deter
his very heartbeat, making effort bold
to slow its beat and lo, he meets her there-
his ravaged heart is now in disrepair!
Colonel Fitzwilliam, Upon Revealing Darcy's Plan
What pleasure do I find in walking thus
with sweet Miss Lizzy Bennet; such delight
to see her smiling, and the slightest blush
of color in her cheek; thereupon I might
engage in conversation, spend this time
along these gay-clad paths where'pon we walk.
Her charming smile doth mirror nature's clime
of sweetness, and the easy way we talk.
What Darcy, in his manner, thus revealed
about his plan for Bingley and sweet Jane
to separate the two, which once concealed,
I tell her as we stroll this country lane.
Miss Lizzy Bennet's eyes no longer glow,
except with anger as she turns to go.
Lydia's so determined, bound
to have a husband and astound
her mother, father, sisters, too.
Upon this quest, she will pursue
all dashing military men,
or any handsome specimen
dressed in uniform of red.
Our Lydia's goal is to be wed.
she's off to Brighton, there to claim
a change of venue and of name,
and Wickham is upon the scene.
No matter that she's just fifteen,
a bride he'll have, a bride she'll be
and thus, with great audacity,
they run away to live in sin.
What Lydia lacks is discipline!
She gives no heed, but plays for fun
her sisters' chances now undone.
Her mother weeps, her father's stern
he seeks to make the two return.
Lydia, foolish, insincere,
has wrecked her sisters' fortunes here,
for who will ever lay a claim
to girls who sport the Bennet name?
The story of five daughters, ever fair,
who grace the Bennet name, is now well-known.
From eldest down to youngest, I'll not spare
a wit of circumstance, dear reader. On your own
might you determine who is most deserving
and who the least, when my tale's finally done.
Who always seeks to have those things self-serving,
yet by whom the ultimate joy is won.
Five daughters which to raise, no easy task,
but Mrs. Bennet revels in the glory.
Thus, in dear Lydia's wedding, does she bask
and so delights to tell the world her story,
whilst Mary, Kitty, Lizzy and sweet Jane
must listen to dear Mrs. B complain!
Sister Mary, sister Mary,
play your songs for me.
A happy tune so we can dance
to show our gaiety.
We don't want your dirges sad
with movements two and three,
but merry tunes so we can dance
in light frivolity.
Sister Mary, sister mine,
don't frown so all can see
but give us now a joyful song
in happy harmony!
From Anne de Bourgh to Fitzwilliam Darcy
If I may say a word, no, let me speak,
do I surprise you, sir, to find my tongue?
You note that there's a colour to my cheek
and to the winds, all caution have I flung.
I tremble at the thought of marrying you,
I am but faintest shadow to your shade.
Though 'tis my mother's wish, and this be true,
my spirit is not strong, it needs must fade
to pale against the shining of your light,
The strength you radiate is yours alone.
Whene're I see you near, I think of flight,
the thoughts of marriage, sir, are not my own.
The wishes of my mother overpower,
Against her stern demands, I weakly cower.
Darcy, come, for certain you can claim
a lady fair 'midst all this pulchritude.
Miss Lizzy Bennet, lovely face and name,
who's seated over there, and sweetly viewed.
Surely you might choose her for a dance,
Next to Jane, her countenance is fair,
most pleasing to the eye. So take a chance!
It suits you ill to suffer such an air
of arrogance and pride.... My friend, enough!
'Tis nothing tempts me here, and though you meant
to move me so, you must not call my bluff
for time this night is not my time well spent.
Miss Bennet holds her head in high conceit,
I need not play a game of such deceit.
Darcy Goes To London
That Wickham is a scoundrel, well I know,
so in our younger years, his pattern laid.
With Georgiana, he became a foe
when, upon her innocence, he preyed.
And now I see another in his spell,
Lydia - foolish, silly and quite blind.
She's drawn to him as to a cockerel,
thus, must I leave all business far behind
to search the streets of London for this man,
above all else, to make her soon a wife.
Let Wickham do whatever Wickham can,
he'll not be wanton with this youthful life.
Indeed, must I set right this sad affair
and gather all loose ends, to make repair.
Kitty Walks in Shadow
Mother thinks quite ill of me, I fear,
and Father views me foolish, this I know.
That I walk in shadow is quite clear
my sisters, young and older, catch the glow
of Mother's admiration; yet not I,
she thinks I am no consequence at all.
And I am silly in my Father's eye,
nor can I play like Mary at a ball.
And as for reading, how I do despise
the printed word which leaves me flat and cold.
I know my Father surely must surmise
that I am hopeless. This he's often told.
I walk in shadow, though I well may try
to shine a little brighter in the sky.
Mrs. Bennet's Main Concern
Oh, Mr. Bennet, Mr. Bennet, please,
must we now be murdered in our bed?
Give me my smelling salts to quickly ease
this awful, frightful pounding in my head.
My Lydia, dear sweet girl, has run away
with Wickham, off to London, more's the pity!
And who may know what dangers, who can say
what might befall her in that wicked city?
For certain you must go to London Town
and seek them out, to learn of Wickham's plan
or else, in my own tears, I'll surely drown.
That scoundrel, Wickham's not a gentleman!
Oh, Mr. Bennet, what a dreadful mess!
I must be there to choose her wedding dress.
For those of you who read my poems
and laughed, or gave a sigh
I thank you for your fine support
and here's the reason why.
Whene'er we write a storyline
our hearts we thus expose,
whether it be poetry
or several lines of prose.
We hope to leave upon the sands
more than just our name,
to strike a chord within each heart
so others can proclaim,
"You touched my soul and made me cry
these words I will remember,
to keep me warm when I am cold
upon a chill December."
What think you, then, of Mr. Bennet's choice
to let his Lydia go to Brighton Beach,
and disallow sweet Lizzy Bennet's voice
in such decision? Though she did beseech,
all logic failed, all reason flew apart.
Thus Lydia, most surely, had her way
to follow, without care, her foolish heart
letting her rash decisions rule the day.
Now Mrs. Bennet's taken to her bed
and Mr. Bennet's off to London Town.
Anxious to see her youngest daughter wed,
Mrs. B is thinking - wedding gown!
What will become of Lydia and her beau?
Will he be husband, or just gigolo?
Oh, Lydia, silly girl, you've run away
with Wickham, who will play you for a fool.
How quickly will he tire of you and say
that he was thus coerced. So ridicule
will surely be your lot in this sad life.
You vain, impetuous child who tried so hard
to beat your sisters in the role of wife,
to now be held in shabbiest regard.
Our Lady Catherine turns her back on you,
and Mr. Collins talks so very ill.
One wonders if you now have come to rue
the choices that you made with hasty will?
Your sisters shake their heads, except for Kitty,
who wishes she were you; well, more's the pity!
Words from Mrs. Reynolds
There never was a kinder man, for sure,
a sweet, good-natured child, and as he grew
he was, indeed, most caring of the poor
though some might say my words do seem untrue.
And never would a single angry word
e'er cross his lips since he has been but four.
To think him proud is simply quite absurd,
his tenants could not wish for any more
than have a master such as he has been,
the best of landlords, unlike wild young men.
No, never has he been a libertine,
he is most perfect of all gentlemen...
...and in what amiable light is he now placed?
said Lizzy as her heart began to race.
An Unhappy Alternative
Come here, child, as well I understand
that Mr. Collins wishes you to wed.
Perhaps upon this news you can expand
or could it be that I have been mis-led?
I hear that you have recently refused
and that your dearest mother is distraught?
By this whole matter I am quite amused,
come now, I needs must have the full report.
We now come to the point. 'Tis her desire
to have you thus accept him right away.
Or else, you'll surely raise your mother's ire
and I will not have peace in any way.
For if you do not marry Mr. C.
Tears will she shed, though not a tear from me!
Mr. Bennet, Upon Reading Uncle Gardiner's Letter
Come, sweet Jane and Lizzy, please read on
Come now, come, there's much more to be read
and many thoughts that I must dwell upon,
decisions to be made. For what's been said
is that I must, in all due speed and haste,
relieve our Mr. Wickham of his debt.
Until such time, to keep our Lydia chaste,
the day and hour of marriage will be set.
Thus are the words your uncle writes to me
their message clear; can there be any doubt?
No dagger to the heart could ever be
more pointed, no indeed, life's turned about
questioning how, perchance, I can expect
to pay him back and keep my self-respect?
Lydia, Lydia, silly young thing
flirts with the boys, having her fling.
Loves regimentals, just like her mother
would gladly trade Mary for a much older brother.
Kitty, sweet Kitty, always left out,
scolded by Mother, leaves with a pout.
Wants to be treated just like her sisters
and is often o'erlooked by most of the misters.
Mary, dour Mary, never a smile
spends most of her time reading books all the while.
Constantly walks with her nose in the air
but Mary, ah Mary, has nary a care.
Jane, oh so lovely, is kind and delightful,
she never gets angry, she never is spiteful.
Gracious and charming, our Jane is a pleasure
it's clear that dear Jane is a true Bennet treasure.
Now that just leaves Lizzy, tempestuous girl,
who thinks Mr. Darcy is really a churl.
It takes but a short time before she discovers
that arrogant men can soon become lovers.
Christmas Roses and Thorns
Jingly Bells (not one of my best)
Dashing through the snow
to Longbourn we will go.
Hear those sleigh bells ring
presents will we bring.
For Jane, some sewing thread
and Mary, who's well read
a book will surely be
what suits her to a "T"
Let's not forget our Kitty
who's really very pretty
She needs to smile more,
then she'd have beaux galore!
Give Lydia a man,
to catch him, if she can.
And once she's caught him, then,
she'll "catch" some other men.
And finally, there's Lizzy
who keeps herself quite busy
from all latest reports,
having "Darcy" thoughts.
Mr. B and Mrs,
who've long outgrown their kisses
when all is done and said
have three daughters wed!
So Christmas will be jolly
with mistletoe and holly,
from Darcy and the rest
we wish you THE VERY BEST!
Grief as Art
Dearest sister Jane, who sits at home
reflecting on her love and how she's missed
expressions of sweet joy, nor e'er been kissed
by the one she loves, who needs must roam.
Her love is lost, within a catacomb,
a twisted maze of words, surely dismissed.
Heaped high with thoughts which are so prejudiced
and quickly buried, as within a tome.
She neatly sews, and while her heart is pining
reflects once more upon her saddened state.
While to her credit, n'er to be maligning,
she will not say a word, accepting fate.
Oh, sweetest Jane, to be so pure of heart!
She takes her grief and renders it as art.
A Woodland Walk
I think I've stayed too long indoors, said she,
these Rosings woods are beautiful, I hear.
Especially at this lovely time of year
to walk these hills will bring great joy to me.
Within this cloistered house, I must not be
caged like a bird, my life so grey and drear.
It may suit Charlotte, and might give her cheer,
but Lizzy Bennet seeks her soul set free.
Thus to this woodland path I quickly run,
breathing the air of freedom and of change.
To feel upon my face the gentle sun
and my sad thoughts so willingly exchange.
This joyful day and its bright colors blind,
I leave all thoughts of Darcy far behind!
He talks of me as if I were not here,
his manner supercilious and proud.
I would not think to speak such thoughts aloud
nor utter words so ill, my soul to sear.
His motives, so apparent and quite clear
to speak of rank and class, within this crowd
thinking to make me trembling and cowed,
'twill never happen, not in this good year!
I shall ignore his deeds and words unkind,
let him lose face, as very well he should.
Were he to pursue me now, he'd find
a partner less than willing, and he would
know that within the very scheme of life
he'd not have Lizzy Bennet as his wife!
Lydia leans her head on Wickham's shoulder,
while Wickham thinks he's growing so much older
than when he was a regimental man
without a single care, and just one plan
to see himself conveniently wed
to money. Such a way to get ahead;
and now he's stuck with Lydia by his side
a simpering, vacant, silly little bride.
Oh, where's the justice in this world of ours?
Surely there's more to marriage than just flowers?
For now there is a lifetime full of debt,
this wasn't all that Wickham wished to get.
Can you feel sorrow for our Wickham here?
He was an opportunist, that is clear.
When Fortune spun its wheel, he fell from grace
to wake each morn to Lydia's foolish face!
The Lady Catherine holds her court in sway,
imperious ruler, though she is sans crown.
Sending all usurpers on their way
she watches Mr. Collins with a frown.
He is obsequious to a very fault.
She brushes off his statements with a nod,
and to his verbose adage calls a halt
thinking, "He has the manners of a clod!"
Our Lady Catherine rules with iron hand
delighting in subservience as her due.
Rosings Park becomes her feudal land
where Mr. Collins always takes his cue.
If Lady Catherine is the Queen in Charge,
our Collins is Ambassador-at-Large.
Our Darcy thought about her lovely hair,
her flashing eyes were also on his mind.
But then he said, "I really do not care
to paint her portrait thus, with words that bind.
I'd rather meet within a woodland glen
to breathe the air she breathes, and hope a smile
she'll send my way and then... perhaps... and then
to linger there for just a little while."
Thusly, he dreamed and ne'er took pen. Indeed
his words of love were hardly written down
for when they met, he was upon his steed
which chomped the bit and took him straight to town.
So Lizzy Bennet never knew his heart,
as prejudice and pride kept them apart.
Mr. Bennet married Mrs. B.
long ago when dreams were young and new
but very quickly did he come to see
that married life took on a different hue.
He longed for sons, but daughters five he had
lovely girls, and two were such a joy.
The other three, while they were not so bad
did often irritate and quite annoy.
So in his books he'd quietly immerse
his total being and his total soul.
The world of books became his universe,
the only part o'er which he had control,
leaving the harshness of the outside life
to Mrs. B., his sharp-tongued, shrewish wife.
If Charlotte had not married Mr. C...
Mr. Collins came to court a wife,
spotted Jane, but she was not for him.
Lizzy did not want him in her life
thus, Mr. Collins thought his chances slim.
Along came Charlotte Lucas with a smile
wishing not to be alone; indeed,
she thought about it just a little while
then swiftly into marriage flew, full-speed.
Shocked was Lizzy, so much more than Jane,
to think he'd turned so quickly to another,
and Charlotte Lucas really was so plain.
She dwelt upon this fact, as did her mother.
"If he had picked, for certain, our dear Mary,
perchance she'd be a little less contrary!"
In Pursuit of Mr. Wickham
Off to Meryton she'd go with glee
a regimental man was her desire,
dressed in all her female finery,
marriage, the goal to which she did aspire.
With Longbourn far away, she had her fun
dancing all the night into the day.
Setting her sights on Wickham as the one
to be her husband. Might they run away?
Silly girl! She never gave a thought
playing her game to trap her soldier man.
Handsome Wickham, oh, so easily caught,
to have a Bennet daughter was his plan.
She got her soldier; he, his girlish wife.
Now both will live a lifetime full of strife!
That I could retract those words unkind
bitter words, so full of venomous hate.
I blush for shame that I have been so late
in thinking ill of him, thus filled my mind.
All ties to this sad past, I needs must find
unraveled, to reveal my newest state.
A flood of joyous thought upon my fate
loved by this man, ill thoughts now left behind.
That I deserve such happiness and joy
is but a question mark upon my soul.
I cast aside all doubt from my employ
and savour in the happiness that stole
into my life. Nor never ask it how
as surely love will be my bounty now.
How Does My Garden Grow?
All the vanity that I have shown
add to that my folly, which I rue.
Unkind words that very swiftly flew
to hover in the air, I can't condone.
Those were my thoughts which I, most surely, own
and must admit were spoken. Well I knew
those hurtful words, when planted, quickly grew
to blossom into weeds, like seedlings thrown.
Thus now, as one who tends her garden rows
I needs must cultivate that gentle ground,
to work the soil and pluck away each weed.
So like a gardener very wise, who knows
what must be left to flourish, and where found,
most carefully, I nourish every seed.
Mr. Collins' Rejection
Mr. Collins, sad to be rejected
by our Lizzy, turns instead to one
who never thought she'd marry; quite dejected,
she seizes now the moment to be won.
Dear Charlotte Lucas, ever calm, serene,
becomes our Mr. Collins' steadfast wife.
Gracious to a fault, she's always been
loyal and true throughout her gentle life.
Miss Lizzy Bennet wonders how she can
be married to a person such as he?
The Lady Catherine's sycophantic man
a puppet on a string he'll always be.
"Why, Jane, he is a man so over-bearing,
I cannot think of anybody caring!"
What arrogance! Beyond belief, I find
his very presence stiffens up my back
and yet... there is a softness that I track,
a path to hidden depths quite undefined.
This man has moments when he's surely kind.
His servants speak of goodness, and they lack
the appetite that usually feeds a pack
of hungry wolves as through the woods they wind.
So must I now review my thoughts of him
and of his character, take weight and measure
lest I might overlook a hidden part.
Perchance, like author using pseudonym,
he carefully scribes the words which bring him pleasure,
only to keep them deep within his heart.
Early one morning, just as the sun was shining
I heard our Lizzy calling in the valley below.
"Oh, don't deceive me, Darcy, would you leave me?
Your words have cut me deeply, as you surely must know."
Later in the afternoon, the sun was shining overhead,
our Lizzy walked the golden meadow, pacing to and fro.
"Oh, Darcy, you again, hurting my sister Jane,
who truly, dearly loved her Charles Bingley so!"
Now in the evening, in setting sun of pink and gold,
our Lizzy mopped her blushing brow and whispered soft and low,
"Now all has been revealed, your love no more concealed,
more deeply do I feel for you than you could ever know!"
You stand before me, words upon your tongue
which speak one thing, and yet reveal your heart.
Claiming to love me. Still we are apart,
two adversaries in a camp. Among
the poets of a long-lost time, who've sung
their song of lovers' destinies to chart.
I feel my heartbeat and my pulses start,
yet angry words from both of us are flung.
Thus, I regret my spoken words, which may
have cut more deeply than I wished to do.
I see you bleeding, but do turn away
in fear my actions you might misconstrue.
For should I rush to staunch your bloody wound
my love might spread its wings, where once cocooned.
Truly, what mild-mannered child is she
subservient to her mother's every whim?
Is it possible that she has thoughts of him
that she will not reveal? At mother's knee
she lingers long, her obvious destiny.
Her will, thus overpowered, grows ever dim
her smile turns down, her mannerisms prim,
like caged bird, she never will be free.
I should feel sorry and, indeed, I do,
poor wing-clipped sparrow fluttering in your cage
yearning, perchance, to soar on freedom's wing.
And yet with door flung open, it is true,
you merely fold your wings and chirp your rage,
content to sit within the bars and sing.
Mr. Collins, sycophantic fool
plays with words, as empty as the air.
Words "sans" meaning, like an empty spool
which once held coloured thread, beside a chair.
Lady Catherine keeps him close at side
tethered, so he does not wander far.
He fawns upon her, fueling pompous pride
and, like dull moon, circles her aging star.
How many such as he within our sphere
echo hollow words and hollow phrases?
If we refuse to pay, they "volunteer"
and wonder why we never sing their praises.
The world is overwhelmed with just such men,
obsequious and shallow specimen!
(Mrs. Bennet's Lament)
If luck would have its way, then they'd be wed,
daughters five, all gloriously crowned
with marriage wreaths, and happily abed
to bring forth many heirs from fertile ground.
But fate doth work its ways of mystery
to leave us clueless, and as dull as earth,
which beaten down by lackless history
reveals no seedlings, and a harvest dearth.
No one might understand the pain I feel
such pretty girls all wanting for a ring,
a reverend to speak, some bells to peal,
for these delights, I'd give most anything!
The purpose solely in my life is this,
to see my lovely girls in wedded bliss.
Charlotte smiles, a sadness in her eyes
for she is Collins' wife, as she desired.
Life, for her, holds nary a small surprise
indeed, it's drab and oft times, uninspired.
But hers by choice; the choosing freely made,
rather to be wed than live alone.
She dwells serene within this masquerade
to rule in peace, a queen upon her throne.
Her husband moves his way in smug content
oblivious to those who mock and scorn,
whilst Charlotte, truly quite benevolent,
is steadfast in the vows that she has sworn.
Leaving us to wonder what she dreams,
what she still may think and what she schemes.