English poet Robert Browning's "Confessions" is a tale of love and memory. The poem's speaker, an old man on his deathbed, makes a last confession to a visiting priest—but perhaps not a very contrite one. Instead, he remembers with pleasure how he and his secret girlfriend used to sneak out and meet each other one long-ago summer. Love, this poem suggests, leaps all kinds of boundaries: class, morality, and even time can't stand in its way. Browning first published this poem in his 1864 collection Dramatis Personae.
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1What is he buzzing in my ears?
2"Now that I come to die,
3Do I view the world as a vale of tears?"
4Ah, reverend sir, not I!
5What I viewed there once, what I view again
6Where the physic bottles stand
7On the table's edge,—is a suburb lane,
8With a wall to my bedside hand.
9That lane sloped, much as the bottles do,
10From a house you could descry
11O'er the garden-wall; is the curtain blue
12Or green to a healthy eye?
13To mine, it serves for the old June weather
14Blue above lane and wall;
15And that farthest bottle labelled "Ether"
16Is the house o'ertopping all.
17At a terrace, somewhere near the stopper,
18There watched for me, one June,
19A girl: I know, sir, it's improper,
20My poor mind's out of tune.
21Only, there was a way... you crept
22Close by the side, to dodge
23Eyes in the house, two eyes except:
24They styled their house "The Lodge."
25What right had a lounger up their lane?
26But, by creeping very close,
27With the good wall's help,—their eyes might strain
28And stretch themselves to Oes,
29Yet never catch her and me together,
30As she left the attic, there,
31By the rim of the bottle labelled "Ether,"
32And stole from stair to stair,
33And stood by the rose-wreathed gate. Alas,
34We loved, sir—used to meet:
35How sad and bad and mad it was—
36But then, how it was sweet!
1What is he buzzing in my ears?
2"Now that I come to die,
3Do I view the world as a vale of tears?"
4Ah, reverend sir, not I!
5What I viewed there once, what I view again
6Where the physic bottles stand
7On the table's edge,—is a suburb lane,
8With a wall to my bedside hand.
9That lane sloped, much as the bottles do,
10From a house you could descry
11O'er the garden-wall; is the curtain blue
12Or green to a healthy eye?
13To mine, it serves for the old June weather
14Blue above lane and wall;
15And that farthest bottle labelled "Ether"
16Is the house o'ertopping all.
17At a terrace, somewhere near the stopper,
18There watched for me, one June,
19A girl: I know, sir, it's improper,
20My poor mind's out of tune.
21Only, there was a way... you crept
22Close by the side, to dodge
23Eyes in the house, two eyes except:
24They styled their house "The Lodge."
25What right had a lounger up their lane?
26But, by creeping very close,
27With the good wall's help,—their eyes might strain
28And stretch themselves to Oes,
29Yet never catch her and me together,
30As she left the attic, there,
31By the rim of the bottle labelled "Ether,"
32And stole from stair to stair,
33And stood by the rose-wreathed gate. Alas,
34We loved, sir—used to meet:
35How sad and bad and mad it was—
36But then, how it was sweet!
What is he buzzing in my ears?
"Now that I come to die,
Do I view the world as a vale of tears?"
Ah, reverend sir, not I!
What I viewed there once, what I view again
Where the physic bottles stand
On the table's edge,—is a suburb lane,
With a wall to my bedside hand.
That lane sloped, much as the bottles do,
From a house you could descry
O'er the garden-wall;
is the curtain blue
Or green to a healthy eye?
To mine, it serves for the old June weather
Blue above lane and wall;
And that farthest bottle labelled "Ether"
Is the house o'ertopping all.
At a terrace, somewhere near the stopper,
There watched for me, one June,
A girl: I know, sir, it's improper,
My poor mind's out of tune.
Only, there was a way... you crept
Close by the side, to dodge
Eyes in the house, two eyes except:
They styled their house "The Lodge."
What right had a lounger up their lane?
But, by creeping very close,
With the good wall's help,—their eyes might strain
And stretch themselves to Oes,
Yet never catch her and me together,
As she left the attic, there,
By the rim of the bottle labelled "Ether,"
And stole from stair to stair,
And stood by the rose-wreathed gate. Alas,
We loved, sir—used to meet:
How sad and bad and mad it was—
But then, how it was sweet!
Select any word below to get its definition in the context of the poem. The words are listed in the order in which they appear in the poem.
The Poem Aloud — Listen to a reading of the poem.
A Brief Biography — Visit the Poetry Foundation's website to learn more about Browning's life and work.
Browning's Legacy — Learn how Browning's work finally rose to acclaim at the end of his life (and enjoy novelist Henry James's witty mock-epitaph for him).
Browning's Influence — Read an appreciation of Browning that discusses what he means to writers today.
Portraits of the Brownings — Visit the National Portrait Gallery's collection of Browning portraiture for a glimpse of the great (and forbidden!) love affair that may have inspired this poem: Browning's relationship with his beloved wife, fellow poet Elizabeth Barrett Browning.