Living

Cliff Klingenhagen

by Edwin Arlington Robinson 1869–1935

From The Children of the Night (1897)

Living

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 grinned, 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.

MLA

Robinson, Edwin Arlington. “Cliff Klingenhagen.” Poetry Codex, poetrycodex.com/poem/robinson_ea/26/.

Chicago

Robinson, Edwin Arlington. “Cliff Klingenhagen.” Poetry Codex. https://poetrycodex.com/poem/robinson_ea/26/.

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