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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required "No, I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be; Am an attendant lord, one that will do To swell a progress, start a scene or two, Advise the prince; no doubt an easy tool, Deferential, glad to be of use, Politic, cautious, and meticulous; Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse; At times, indeed, almost ridiculous- Almost, at times, the Fool." —The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T. S. Eliot, published 1917 Welcome to the garden of repose, Where feats of passion writhe within the throes Of a coward's disposition. Welcome to the dimly lit retreat Of those so often passed along the street Without attracting much attention. Here, behind the garden's wall, They hide themselves from love's foreboding call And flee from its insidious effects, The thousands of emotions that bewilder and perplex, Consuming and corrupting like a cancer Regardless of your answer. I have heard the language of the sea... Saturday afternoon, The hours linger like an inoffensive mood Of undesired influence. Sitting on a solitary bench, Beside a solitary stream, You lie awake and softly dream Of an angelic figure Which, by now, is quite familiar To the focus of your eyes And the chambers of your heart. One by one, The footsteps fall; (Your finest hour rests within your hand!) One by one, The footsteps fade, Without a simple introduction or a subtle invitation, Because you lack the strength to stand, Much less, to speak. Your aspirations of a high romance Have been postponed, Until another inconvenient time; Until another, more imposing circumstance. I have heard the language of the sea, Its soothing sounds of savagery, And I have been delighted by the dialogue... Black tie, Your garments are selected For the evening's main event. You will regret the time you've spent Standing in a trance before your mirror Attempting to perfect The confidence projected by the condescending eye; Trying to prepare an answer For the who, the where, the why; Trying to refine your speech So that the meaning comes home clearer. You will regret the time you've spent When you fail. Through a constant flow of conversation On matters of morality and manners Of subtlety and scandal, You will not be asked to speak And you will not volunteer. You will spend the evening in a corner Enjoying the acquaintance of a wall. I have heard the language of the sea, It's senseless sounds of savagery, And I have been delighted by the dialogue; But like the herds that fill the synagogues I soon forget the meaning of the words. I am content to listen for a time, To contend with my dilemma Lying in the shadow of an oversized umbrella Upon the dry, and stable, shore. I have heard the passionate soliloquy Of one's young patroness, perched upon her balcony, And lying in the shadows far below I have chosen to preserve my anonymity. Perhaps, one day, you will join me. The Company of Fools – Copyright © 1994-2018 by Benjamin Toney. All rights reserved. Previously published in Central High School's annual The Tempest, 1995-96, under pseudonym. Initial quoted excerpt from "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" by T. S. Eliot, published in London by The Egoist, Ltd, 1917.
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