One of the most original and powerful of Browning's lyrical pieces
comes just where we should least expect it, at the end of that dark,
dreary, and all but impenetrable wilderness of verse, _Fifine at the
Fair_. It serves as an _Epilogue_, but it would be difficult and
unprofitable to attempt to discover its connection with the poem to
which is appended. Its metre is unique in Browning, and stirs the
heart with inexpressible force. In music it most closely resembles
the swift thrilling roll of a snare drum, and can be read aloud in
exact accord with that instrument. Browning calls it _The Householder_,
and of course it represents in his own life the anticipated moment
when the soul leaves its house to unite with its mate. Out of the
catastrophe of death appears a radiant vision which really seems too
good to be true.
"What, and is it really you again?" quoth I:
"I again, what else did you expect?" quoth She.
The man is weary of his old patched up body, now no longer needed:
weary of the noisy nuisances of life, and the tiresome and futile
gabble of humanity: resentful, now that his spirit has actually
survived death, when he remembers the scientific books he had read
which almost struck despair in him.
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