Mr. MacCall at Cleveland Hall

Mr. MacCall at Cleveland Hall,     Sunday evening-date to fix     Fifteenth April, sixty-six,     Speech reported and redacted     By a fellow much distracted. I     Who lectures? No mere scorner;     Clear-brained, his heart is warm.     She sits at the nearest comer     Of I will not say what form. II     The Conflict of Opinions     In the Present Day, saith Chair.     What muff in the British dominions     Could dispute that she is fair? III     Mammon-worship is horrid,     Plutocracy is base.     Dark hair from a fine small forehead;     I catch but the still side face.     The WeatherPixie IV     We wallow in mere dimension,     The Big to us is Great.     If she stood at her utmost tension     She might pass four feet eight. V     We lay on colour in splashes,     With a mop, or a broom for brush.     How dark are her long eyelashes!     How pure is her cheek's slight flush! VI     But we have no perception     For form-the divinest-now.     Each curve there is perfection,     In nostril, chin, and brow. VI     Our women are good kind creatures,     But they cannot dress at all.     Does her bonnet grace her features?     Clear blue with a black lace fall. VIII     Low Church-very low-in the gutter;     High Church-as ven'son high.     O'er the flower of her face gleams the flutter     Of a smile like a butterfly. IX     Herder, Wieland, Lessing;     Bossuet, Montalembert.     Fine names, but the name worth guessing     Is the name of the sweet girl there.     The individual; true man;     Individuality.     A man's but one half, some woman     The other half must be. XI     Persistent valour the sternest,     With love's most gentle grace.     How grand is the eye fixed earnest     In the half-seen up-turned face! XII     'How did you like the lecture?     Was it not beautiful?'     I should think she was! 'I conjecture     That your brains have been gathering wool!' P. S.     The Chairman was a rare man;     At every telling point     He smiled at his post like a jolly host     Carving rich cuts from the joint;     Which the name he bore was Richard Moore     Whom Heaven with grace anoint!     That conflict of opinion     It had its counterpart     In conflict for dominion     Between my head and heart.