In heart, I plead the case of Dobbins, with understanding and great clarity
In life, I stand accused as Becky, frowned down upon, with no claim to charity
Why this dichotomy, between feeling and appearance? How can it even be..
When one pours out one’s heart fo another, for another, one is seen cold
Dobbins, poor Dobbins, never to be loved, but halfly, and never then til old
What will become of such a man, prone to gift giving, thoughtful reasoning?
Mr. William Dobbins, one way or another, with a face full of blood, quibbles
He writes, and he moans, and he crumples, and, then some more, scribbles
Over right, over wrong, over hill, over dale, until it’s over and his love is gone
Never retreats does he, never seeks to give offence does he, never at all
When he is faced with ultimate loss, only then does he truly answer the call
Blood is heated, flesh is weak, windows to soul open wide behind blinkers
Recently watched the BBC series of ‘Vanity Faire’ In it, there is a character, Mr. Dobbins, whom I have heard referred to as the classic example of a good guy who very much finished last.
Well, yes, he did. Some of which was his fault – for caring more for feelings and propriety than for truth; some of which was societies fault, for having the silly arsed rules which he followed far too closely; some of which was his love’s fault for refusing to see the truth plainly before her eyes; and, some of which was his friend’s fault, for preferring vanity to mercy.
I can very much relate to Dobbins, whom if he was female would always be the bridesmaid – if the bride ever found him so worthy, that is. But, I do have to disagree with him being held up as such, all the same. For while it is true, it went that way in the story, my oh my did I love him all through watching the show.
In real life, he’d have been too busy chasing after the previously engaged woman who wanted to keep him at "just friends’ however; because, nice girls always finish last, too.