Hello All,
I know this is a hard call for many of my readers. There are others who are waiting to see this. Well the ones waiting to see are not xangans. I think you all may still remember my attempt to write “Tess Of The D’Urbervilles” character into a poem. Here is the third phase of that poem. Like I said during the first and second I will re-write this again.
This poem was long when I finished the rough draft. It was 382 lines long. I edited out a lot and brought it down to about 130 lines. Then I understood that I edited too much. So I re-wrote but took out some huge description of the dairy life in England to make it reasonably long. Well I hope some people in Xanga will read.
I am keeping my promise. I will finish the rest of the story as quick as possible.
Here are the links to the first two phases. As I have taken a long break from this you can read that too, before coming to this one.
Tess Of The D’Urbervilles. Phase The First–The Maiden.
Tess Of The D’Urbervilles-Phase The Second–Maiden No More
Tess Of The D’Urbervilles-Phase The Third. The Rally.
The May morning over Marlott seemed gloomy,
As once more Tess left her little village,
Though the May morning sun was bright,
Mind of her and everyone who loved her,
With regrets filled of the recent years.
It’s hard to leave Liza Lu(1) and Abby boy,
Hope and Modesty she will miss them both,
And the younger ones may find it hard to remember,
When in some holidays they see her next.
Tess thought it is the best for her and them,
As little good from her they can gain,
And a lot of harm by her example.
The journey to Talbothays itself was like the weather,
Brightened by the hour by the vivid life she seen,
From the gloomy past her heart warmed,
As through intervening uplands she passed,
And walked along the tunes of birds,
Singing ballads of praise of God,
For all the beauty through her senses felt.
And brisk walked to the lowlands of green,
It was no tiring journey for this girl with life filled,
As she heard a pleasant voice in every breeze,
Every birds note a lurk of joy,
In meditation tuned her heart to purity,
The walk became a pilgrimage away from her past.
The diary life welcomed she like her own looks,
The early morning milking and skimming,
Milking times passed by with tales told,
From medieval times through yester years,
The songs sung in the early morn,
Like the chanting in a monastery,
Brought peace even in unborn calves.
Tess blended into the cow herd easily,
And cows upon the belly her cheeks pressed,
Took a share of her own beauty for that moment.
The cows that were all named,
With pretty names with their majestic looks,
The gentle cows and the stubborn ones,
Kicking buckets for their favorite hands.
From behind a cow came a face,
A face looked upon by every dairymaid,
A face her memory will never forget,
As in the corner of heart remained,
That face even in the worst terror she faced,
The face once she wished so close,
Those hands once she wished held her own,
Upon the meadows during that May Day dance.
Angel Clare at six and twenty,
Filled the heart of even the stubborn cow.
Angle Clare was no dairyman,
The parson’s son who left the Godly work,
And choose farming in colonial lands,
Apprentice he was in this diary world,
After learning the shepherd ways,
Some where in the northern moors.
Early bedtimes with stories from dairymaids,
Breakfast, lunch and dinner with everyone,
The walk in the morning summer fog,
And evening filled her heart in full,
With sweetness of life she never dreamt,
Listening to the music of harp played,
By Angel in his solitary life.
The fancy talk at breakfast time,
About how souls can be made to leave,
Our bodies by lying in the grass at night,
Staring at stars by fixing the mind upon it,
Driving the soul hundreds of miles away,
Made every eye in the room zoomed upon Tess’s lips,
So came the eye of Angel Clare,
A thousand flashes passed through his mind,
“What a fresh virginal daughter of Nature is she”,
Said he about Tess to his own soul.
That gave him a thought of her pretty face,
But where, when and how,
He couldn’t tell from his memory of past.
Innocence in her fantasy words,
Charm of her beauty spread,
Imprinted deep in his lonely heart,
The face of Tess over other maids,
Whenever he thought of womankind.
The days of the milkmaids passed,
With thoughts and talks about Angel Clare,
Nights of the milkmaids passed,
In their dreams about Angel Clare.
No thoughts, talks or dreams passed,
Through the mind of Tess,
As any notion of passion always led,
To the brutal experience of her past.
A past she wished gone into a silent memory,
But every word of love and passion heard,
Shivered Tess beyond her senses can hide.
Though the daily morning walks of Tess,
And her evening strolls around diary lands,
Found her ways in solitude,
To ward off the grief of disgrace and death.
Every moment after the breakfast view,
Every bit of Tess impressed,
Angel Clare closer to her heart.
Angel Clare to Tess was more,
Than any man she ever new,
His ways and talks made her view,
Him as an intelligence than a normal man.
Her hope and bitterness, fairness and fancy,
Thoughts and opinions always made Angel think,
Of his understanding of her in every way,
The freshness of Jasmine flower,
The perfection of youth blended,
The completeness of every beauty conceived,
In the calmness of Nature’s novelty.
Tess lived the happiest days of her life,
Early morning walks through the summer fog,
With Angel Clare by her side,
Though not of intentions,
Studied each other a little more every day,
The deeper the understanding of their minds,
Each other in love with every bit of what they learned,
When attraction of outer beauty grown deep,
Into love of souls in eagerness thrived,
To unite for the perfection of their love.
Her countenance in the morning sun,
Erased every feeling of flesh and blood,
From the mind of Angel Clare,
The love in him made her unearthly,
In the purest form of womankind.
Tess though in the purest form of happiness,
Still trembled in the horror of her past,
She knew the love of Angel Clare,
And she knew her unworthiness,
And she tried to divert his love,
But failed again and again,
As his love for her grew day by day.
Forced her to avoid his company,
And moved away from his way,
Left him perplexed and in pain,
When every sense of him focused deep,
To know more the mind of Tess
Tess lived with her own pain.
The love she held deep in her own heart,
That may out pour as she tired to hold,
Knowing the pain of Angel Clare,
That pained her more day by day.
The warmer weather brought the summer rain,
In the night before that fateful Sunday morn,
The nightly rain flooded the walk way to church,
As the well dressed maids with Tess stood confused,
Not knowing how to cross the water in their best dress,
Angel came as the Angel to carry them one by one
When Angel carried the dairymaids,
Crossing the flooded roads to the churchyard.
In his hands Tess felt the love of him,
And he said that all these trouble he took,
Was for holding her in the arm of his.
Alas, she can’t think of anything more,
She can’t say another word,
A love she avoided with all her strength,
At last she felt in her own heart.
As his lips came close to her own lips,
Rest of the dairymaids felt the love of both.
Angle Clare’s mind was a mess,
As in consciousness and in sleep,
Her face, her hands, her body, her eyes,
All filled his mind and soul.
Every thought started with Tess,
Every thought was about Tess,
And every thought of Angel Clare about Tess,
Never ended in his mind filled with love for Tess.
As the summer prepared to leave that year,
And fall prepared to color every thing around,
When every lovers mind finds hard to keep control,
Of the love that screams from inside the soul,
The love of Angel Clare outpoured from his mind,
From the milking bench he held her in his arms,
And told her how dear was his love for her.
Love unheard to mankind till that day,
Love listened by every bit of Nature around,
And celebrated by birds and trees and flowers alike,
As the purity of that love filled into the heart of Tess,
That moment brought tears in her eyes,
And we all know the sweetness in the drop or two.
(End Of Phase The Third) (1) Liza Lu. Sister of Tess though not mentioned in the book much. Becomes an important part of the story in the last paragraph of the book. The name Liza Lu is the short form of Eliza Louisa. Keep an eye on this character in my poems to come.
If you want to read the text I followed for this phase visit this link Tess Of The D’Urbervilles-Phase The Third. The Rally.
