Poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson

How Annandale Went out

“They called it Annandale—and I was there  
To flourish, to find words, and to attend:  
Liar, physician, hypocrite, and friend,  
I watched him; and the sight was not so fair  
As one or two that I have seen elsewhere:
An apparatus not for me to mend—  
A wreck, with hell between him and the end,  
Remained of Annandale; and I was there.  
 
“I knew the ruin as I knew the man;  
So put the two together, if you can,
Remembering the worst you know of me.  
Now view yourself as I was, on the spot—  
With a slight kind of engine. Do you see?  
Like this … You wouldn’t hang me? I thought not.”

1. The Clinging Vine
2. Old King Cole
3. Llewellyn and the Tree
4. The Valley of the Shadow
5. London Bridge

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