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TheThreeTavernsABookofPoemsByEdwinArlingtonRobinson1TheThreeTavernsABookofPoemsByEdwinArlingtonRobinsonEdwinArlingtonRobinsonTheThreeTavernsABookofPoemsByEdwinArlingtonRobinson2TheValleyoftheShadowTherewerefacestorememberintheValleyoftheShadow,Therewerefacesunregarded,therewerefacestoforget;Therewerefiresofgriefandfearthatareafewforgottenashes,Thereweresparksofrecognitionthatarenotforgottenyet.Foratfirst,withanamazedandoverwhelmingindignationAtameasurelessmalfeasancethatobscurelywilleditthus,Theywerelostandunacquainted--tilltheyfoundthemselvesinothers,Whohadgropedastheyweregropingwheredimwayswereperilous.TherewerelivesthatwereasdarkasarethefearsandintuitionsOfachildwhoknowshimselfandisalonewithwhatheknows;Therewerepensionersofdreamsandthereweredebtorsofillusions,Alltofailbeforethetriumphofaweedthatonlygrows.Therewerethirstingheirsofgoldensievesthatheldnotwineorwater,Andhadnonamesintrafficormorevaluetherethantoys:TherewereblightedsonsofwonderintheValleyoftheShadow,Wheretheysufferedandstillwonderedwhytheirwondermadenonoise.Therewereslaveswhodraggedtheshacklesofaprecedentunbroken,Demonstratingthefulfilmentofunalterableschemes,Whichhadbeen,beforethecradle,Time'sinexorabletenantsOfwhatwerenowthedustyruinsoftheirfather'sdreams.Therewerethese,andthereweremanywhohadstumbleduptomanhood,Wheretheysawtoolatetheroadtheyshouldhavetakenlongago:TherewerethwartedclerksandfiddlersintheValleyoftheShadow,Thecommemorativewreckageofwhatothersdidnotknow.Andthereweredaughtersolderthanthemotherswhohadbornethem,Beingolderintheirwisdom,whichisolderthantheearth;Andtheyweregoingforwardonlyfartherintodarkness,Unrelievedasweretheblastingobligationsoftheirbirth;Andamongthem,givingalwayswhatwasnotfortheirpossession,Thereweremaidens,veryquiet,withnoquietintheireyes:ThereweredaughtersofthesilenceintheValleyoftheShadow,Eachanisolatediteminthefamilysacrifice.Therewerecreepersamongcatacombswheredullregretsweretorches,TheThreeTavernsABookofPoemsByEdwinArlingtonRobinson3Givinglightenoughtoshowthemwhatwasthereupontheshelves--WheretherewasmoreforthemtoseethanpleasurewouldrememberOfsomethingthathadbeenaliveandoncehadbeenthemselves.Thereweresomewhostirredtheruinswithasolidimprecation,Whileasmanyfledrepentanceforthepromiseofdespair:ThereweredrinkersofwrongwatersintheValleyoftheShadow,Andallthesparklingwaysweredustthatoncehadledthemthere.ThereweresomewhoknewthestepsofAgeincrediblybesidethem,Andhisfingersuponshouldersthathadneverfeltthewheel;Andtheirlastofemptytrophieswasagildedcupofnothing,Whichacontemplatingvagabondwouldnothavecometosteal.Longandoftenhadtheyfiguredforalargervaluation,Butthesizeoftheiradditionwasthebalanceofadoubt:ThereweregentlemenofleisureintheValleyoftheShadow,Notalluredbyretrospection,disenchanted,andplayedout.AndamongthedarkendurancesofunavowedreprisalsThereweresilenteyesofenvythatsawlittlebutsawwell;Andoverbeauty'saftermathofhazardousambitionsThereweretearsforwhathadvanishedastheyvanishedwheretheyfell.Notassuredofwhatwastheirs,andalwayshungryforthenameless,ThereweresomewhoseonlypassionwasforTimewhomadethemcold:TherewerenumerousfairwomenintheValleyoftheShadow,Dreamingratherlessofheaventhanofhellwhentheywereold.Nowandthen,asiftoscornthecommontouchofcommonsorrow,Thereweresomewhogaveafewthedistantpityofasmile;Andanothercloakedasoulaswithanashofhumanembers,Havingcoveredthusatreasurethatwouldlasthimforawhile.Thereweremanybythepresenceofthemanydisaffected,Whoseexemptionwasincludedintheweightthatothersbore:TherewereseekersafterdarknessintheValleyoftheShadow,Andtheyaloneweretheretofindwhattheywerelookingfor.Sotheywere,andsotheyare;andastheycamearecomingothers,Andamongthemarethefearlessandthemeekandtheunborn;AndaquestionthathasheldusheretoforewithoutananswerMayabidewithoutanansweruntilallhaveceasedtomourn.Forthechildrenofthedarkaremoretonamethanarethewretched,Orthebroken,ortheweary,ortheTheThreeTavernsABookofPoemsByEdwinArlingtonRobinson4baffled,ortheshamed:TherearebuildersofnewmansionsintheValleyoftheShadow,Andamongthemarethedyingandtheblindedandthemaimed.TheThreeTavernsABookofPoemsByEdwinArlingtonRobinson5TheWanderingJewIsawbylookinginhiseyesThattheyrememberedeverything;AndthiswashowIcametoknowThathewashere,stillwandering.ForthoughthefigureandthesceneWerenevertobereconciled,IknewthemanasIhadknownHisimagewhenIwasachild.Withevidenceateveryturn,IshouldhavehelditsafetoguessThatallthenewnessofNewYorkHadnothingnewinloneliness;YetherewasonewhomightbeNoah,OrNathan,orAbimelech,OrLamech,outofageslost,--Or,morethanall,Melchizedek.Assuredthathewasnoneofthese,Igavethembacktheirnamesagain,ToscanoncemorethoseendlesseyesWhereallmyquestionsendedthen.IfoundinthemwhattheyrevealedThatIshallnotlivetoforget,AndwonderediftheyfoundinmineCompassionthatImightregret.Pity,Ilearned,wasnottheleastOftime'soffendingbenefitsThathadnowforsolongimpugnedTheconservationofhiswits:RatheritwasthatIshouldyield,Alone,thefealtythatpresentsThetributeofatemperedearToanuntemperedeloquence.BeforeIponderedlongenoughOnwhencehecameandwhohewas,ItrembledathisringingwealthOfmanifoldanathem