The rain set early in tonight,
The sullen wind was soon awake,
It tore the elm-tops down for spite,
And did its worst to vex the lake:
I listened with heart fit to break.
When glided in Porphyria; straight
She shut the cold out and the storm,
And kneeled and made the cheerless grate
Blaze up, and all the cottage warm;
Which done, she rose, and from her form
Withdrew the dripping cloak and shawl,
And laid her soiled gloves by, untied
Her hat and let the damp hair fall,
And, last, she sat down by my side
And called me. When no voice replied,
She put my arm about her waist,
And made her smooth white shoulder bare,
And all her yellow hair displaced,
And, stooping, made my cheek lie there,
And spread, o’er all, her yellow hair,
Murmuring how she loved me — she
Too weak, for all her heart’s endeavor,
To set its struggling passion free
From pride, and vainer ties dissever,
And give herself to me forever.
But passion sometimes would prevail,
Nor could tonight’s gay feast restrain
A sudden thought of one so pale
For love of her, and all in vain:
So, she was come through wind and rain.
Be sure I looked up at her eyes
Happy and proud; at last l knew
Porphyria worshiped me: surprise
Made my heart swell, and still it grew
While I debated what to do.
That moment she was mine, mine, fair,
Perfectly pure and good: I found
A thing to do, and all her hair
In one long yellow string l wound
Three times her little throat around,
And strangled her. No pain felt she;
I am quite sure she felt no pain.
As a shut bud that holds a bee,
I warily oped her lids: again
Laughed the blue eyes without a stain.
And l untightened next the tress
About her neck; her cheek once more
Blushed bright beneath my burning kiss:
I propped her head up as before,
Only, this time my shoulder bore
Her head, which droops upon it still:
The smiling rosy little head,
So glad it has its utmost will,
That all it scorned at once is fled,
And I, its love, am gained instead!
Porphyria’s love: she guessed not how
Her darling one wish would be heard.
And thus we sit together now,
And all night long we have not stirred,
And yet God has not said aword!
Brief Summary
The narrator is home by himself on a dark and stormy night, waiting for Porphyria to come and visit. She arrives and makes a fire in the fireplace for the two of them. Then she sits down next to the narrator and says his name. The narrator does not respond. Porphyria guesses he is upset, so she places his hand around her waist. The narrator takes notice of her bare shoulder and her yellow hair as she is moving around. Porphyria wants to comfort him, so she takes his cheek and places it on her head. She murmurs to him how much she loves him, but also mentions that she is afraid to commit to anything serious right now. The narrator begins to become angry because he feels that there relationship has been “all in vain.” He remembers that when she first walked in the house, he thought he could tell by her eyes that she worshipped him. He felt a surge of power when she looked at him in that way. It seems that Porphyria has been the one in charge recently when it comes to their relationship. He wants to keep her in a submissive state and make her “his.” To accomplish this, he decides to take her hair and strangle her with it. After he does so, and she dies, he opens her eyes to make sure she has truly passed. He describes her eyes as “laughing” “without a stain.” He gives her one last kiss and then sits with her all night, not moving. He wonders why God hasn’t punished or praised him for the act he has committed.
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References
1. Image 1: <https://sites.udel.edu/britlitwiki/files//2018/06/female-face.jpg
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