And he himself was tall and thin, with sharp blue eyes, each like a pin.

Robert Browning

Of all of the poetry that I’ve ever read, I must admit that there is one that stands out from the others. The poem is Robert Browning’s rendition of The Pied Piper of Hamelin. I’ve read the story on several occasions, but I like the poem best.

Robert Browning was a master of verse.  He was born in Camberwell in 1812 and was lucky enough to be raised in a house with incredible literary sources. Browning’s father encouraged his interest in literature. Although he had inherited a sizable musical ability from his mother, Browning pursued his interest in poetry and his father paid for the publications.

You might remember that I blogged about Elizabeth Barrett Browning a few weeks ago and Robert is the contributor of the latter name.  They married in 1846 and travelled to Italy for Elizabeth’s health. After her death, he returned to London and became part of the London Literary scene. His poetic style was favourable and he was a serious contender for Poet Laureate in 1850 when Wordsworth passed away.

Browning’s poetry wasn’t really aimed at children, but the legend of the Pied Piper became a children’s story and Browning’s poem is quite witty.

The poem as a book,

 

There are several different theories as to what actually happened to the children of Hamelin. I find it difficult to believe that they were swallowed up by a hillside cave never to be seen again, but the story is kind of creepy.  There are some who actually believe that the Pied Piper was some sort of psychopathic paedophile who led the children away for his own devices. There is also the idea that all people of a town are the town’s children and that these particular folk left Hamelin to settle parts of Transylvania.  To me, it’s almost like a game of Chinese whispers where as the story gets passed along it gets a little foggier and harder to interpret.

Robert Browning is buried in Poet’s corner in Westminster Abbey.  Unfortunately, photography is forbidden, but it’s worth a visit if you’re ever in London.  He was an amazing man who could turn anything into a poem, and all of this happened Once upon a time in the 1800s.