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Poetry Library

— Stephen Crane

I looked here;

I looked there;

Nowhere could I see my love.

And--this time--

…

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noun

(usually a mass noun) Lodging in a dwelling or similar living quarters afforded to travellers in hotels or on cruise ships, or prisoners, etc.

“Writers often choose accommodation when discussing complex ideas.”

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THANGBRAND THE PRIEST.

77 lines
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow·1807–1882·Romanticism
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hort of stature, large of limb,Burly face and russet beard,All the women stared at him,When in Iceland he appeared."Look!" they said,With nodding head,"There goes Thangbrand, Olaf's Priest." All the prayers he knew by rote,He could preach like Chrysostome,From the Fathers he could quote,He had even been at Rome.A learned clerk,A man of mark,Was this Thangbrand, Olaf's Priest. He was quarrelsome and loud,And impatient of control,Boisterous in the market crowd,Boisterous at the wassail-bowl,EverywhereWould drink and swear,Swaggering Thangbrand, Olaf's Priest. In his house this malecontentCould the King no longer bear,So to Iceland he was sentTo convert the heathen there,And awayOne summer daySailed this Thangbrand, Olaf's Priest. There in Iceland, o'er their booksPored the people day and night,But he did not like their looks,Nor the songs they used to write."All this rhymeIs waste of time!"Grumbled Thangbrand, Olaf's Priest. To the alehouse, where he sat,Came the Scalds and Saga-men;Is it to be wondered at,That they quarrelled now and then,When o'er his beerBegan to leerDrunken Thangbrand, Olaf's Priest? All the folk in AltafiordBoasted of their island grand;Saying in a single word,"Iceland is the finest landThat the sunDoth shine upon!"Loud laughed Thangbrand, Olaf's Priest. And he answered: "What's the useOf this bragging up and down,When three women and one gooseMake a market in your town!"Every ScaldSatires scrawledOn poor Thangbrand, Olaf's Priest. Something worse they did than that;And what vexed him most of allWas a figure in shovel hat,Drawn in charcoal on the wall;With words that goSprawling below,"This is Thangbrand, Olaf's Priest." Hardly knowing what he did,Then he smote them might and main,Thorvald Veile and VeterlidLay there in the alehouse slain."To-day we are gold,To-morrow mould!"Muttered Thangbrand, Olaf's Priest. Much in fear of axe and rope,Back to Norway sailed he then."O, King Olaf! little hopeIs there of these Iceland men!"Meekly said,With bending head,Pious Thangbrand, Olaf's Priest.
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