The Three Taverns A Book of Poems By Edwin Arlington Robinson
I have not crossed your glory, though I might If I saw thrones at auction. HAMILTON Yes, you might. If war is on the way, I shall be -- here; And I've no vision of your distant heels. BURR I see that I shall take an inference To bed with me to-night to keep me warm. I thank you, Hamilton, and I approve Your fealty to the aggregated greatness Of him you lean on while he leans on you. HAMILTON This easy phrasing is a game of yours That you may win to lose. I beg your pardon, But you that have the sight will not employ The will to see with it. If you did so, There might be fewer ditches dug for others In your perspective; and there might be fewer Contemporary motes of prejudice Between you and the man who made the dust. Call him a genius or a gentleman, A prophet or a builder, or what not, But hold your disposition off the balance, And weigh him in the light. Once (I believe I tell you nothing new to your surmise, Or to the tongues of towns and villages) I nourished with an adolescent fancy -- Surely forgivable to you, my friend -- An innocent and amiable conviction That I was, by the grace of honest fortune, A savior at his elbow through the war, Where I might have observed, more than I did, Patience and wholesome passion. I was there, And for such honor I gave nothing worse Than some advice at which he may have smiled. I must have given a modicum besides, Or the rough interval between those days And these would never have made for me my friends, Or enemies. I should be something somewhere -- I say not what -but I should not be here If he had not been there. Possibly, too, You might not -- or that Quaker with his cane. BURR Possibly, too, I should. When the Almighty Rides a white horse, I fancy we shall know it. HAMILTON It was a man, Burr, that was in my mind; No god, or ghost, or demon - only a man: A man whose occupation is the need Of those who would not feel it if it bit them; And one who shapes an age while he endures The 24