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Poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson


Cliff Klingenhagen


Cliff Klingenhagen had me in to dine  
With him one day; and after soup and meat,  
And all the other things there were to eat,  
Cliff took two glasses and filled one with wine  
And one with wormwood. Then, without a sign
For me to choose at all, he took the draught  
Of bitterness himself, and lightly quaffed  
It off, and said the other one was mine.  
 
And when I asked him what the deuce he meant  
By doing that, he only looked at me
And smiled, and said it was a way of his.  
And though I know the fellow, I have spent  
Long time a-wondering when I shall be  
As happy as Cliff Klingenhagen is.



Edwin Arlington Robinson


Edwin Arlington Robinson's other poems:
  1. Veteran Sirens
  2. The Dark House
  3. Siege Perilous
  4. Lisette and Eileen
  5. Demos I


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