The Company of Fools
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"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.
Copyright © Benjamin Toney | Year Posted 2018
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