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diff --git a/3628-h/3628-h.htm b/3628-h/3628-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..33e43c9 --- /dev/null +++ b/3628-h/3628-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3288 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" /> +<title>The Kingdom of Love</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + P { margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + P.headingsummary { margin-left: 5%;} + H1, H2 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + } + H3, H4, H5 { + text-align: left; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + BODY{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + table { border-collapse: collapse; } + td { vertical-align: top; border: 1px solid black;} + td p { margin: 0.2em; } + .blkquot {margin-left: 4em; margin-right: 4em;} /* block indent */ + + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .pagenum {position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + color: gray;} + + .citation {vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: none;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h2> +<a href="#startoftext">The Kingdom of Love, by Ella Wheeler Wilcox</a> +</h2> +<pre> +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Kingdom of Love, by Ella Wheeler Wilcox + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Kingdom of Love + and Other Poems + + +Author: Ella Wheeler Wilcox + + + +Release Date: December 30, 2007 [eBook #3628] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE KINGDOM OF LOVE*** +</pre> +<p><a name="startoftext"></a></p> +<p>Transcribed from the 1909 Gay and Hancock edition by David +Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org</p> +<h1>THE KINGDOM OF<br /> +LOVE<br /> +<span class="smcap"><i>and other poems</i></span></h1> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">by</span><br /> +ELLA WHEELER WILCOX</p> +<p style="text-align: center">GAY AND HANCOCK, LTD.<br /> +12 & 13, HENRIETTA STREET, STRAND<br /> +LONDON<br /> +1909</p> +<p style="text-align: center">[<i>All rights reserved</i>]</p> +<p>Contents:</p> +<p>The Kingdom Of Love<br /> +Meg’s Curse<br /> +Solitude<br /> +The Gossips<br /> +Platonic<br /> +Grandpa’s Christmas<br /> +After The Engagement<br /> +A Holiday<br /> +False<br /> +Two Sinners<br /> +The Phantom Ball<br /> +Words And Thoughts<br /> +Wanted—A Little Girl<br /> +The Suicide<br /> +“Now I Lay Me”<br /> +The Messenger<br /> +A Servian Legend<br /> +Peek-A-Boo<br /> +The Falling Of Thrones<br /> +Her Last Letter<br /> +The Princess’s Finger-Nail<br /> +A Baby In The House<br /> +The Foolish Elm<br /> +Robin’s Mistake<br /> +New Year Resolve<br /> +What We Want<br /> +Breaking The Day In Two<br /> +The Rape Of The Mist<br /> +The Two Glasses<br /> +The Maniac<br /> +What Is Flirtation?<br /> +Husband And Wife<br /> +How Does Love Speak?<br /> +Reincarnation<br /> +As You Go Through Life<br /> +How Salvator Won<br /> +The Watcher<br /> +How Will It Be?<br /> +Memory’s River<br /> +Love’s Way<br /> +A Man’s Last Love<br /> +The Lady And The Dame<br /> +Confession<br /> +A Married Coquette<br /> +Forbidden Speech<br /> +The Summer Girl<br /> +The Ghost<br /> +The Signboard<br /> +A Man’s Repentance<br /> +Aristarchus<br /> +Dell And I<br /> +About May<br /> +Vanity Fair<br /> +The Giddy Girl<br /> +A Girl’s Autumn Reverie<br /> +His Youth<br /> +Under The Sheet<br /> +A Pin<br /> +The Coming Man</p> +<h2>THE KINGDOM OF LOVE</h2> +<p>In the dawn of the day when the sea and the earth<br /> + Reflected the sunrise above,<br /> +I set forth with a heart full of courage and mirth<br /> + To seek for the Kingdom of Love.<br /> +I asked of a Poet I met on the way<br /> + Which cross-road would lead me aright;<br /> +And he said “Follow me, and ere long you shall see<br /> + Its glittering turrets of light.”</p> +<p>And soon in the distance a city shone fair.<br /> + “Look yonder,” he said; “How it +gleams!”<br /> +But alas! for the hopes that were doomed to despair,<br /> + It was only the “Kingdom of Dreams.”<br +/> +Then the next man I asked was a gay Cavalier,<br /> + And he said: “Follow me, follow me”;<br +/> +And with laughter and song we went speeding along<br /> + By the shores of Life’s beautiful sea.</p> +<p>Then we came to a valley more tropical far<br /> + Than the wonderful vale of Cashmere,<br /> +And I saw from a bower a face like a flower<br /> + Smile out on the gay Cavalier;<br /> +And he said: “We have come to humanity’s goal:<br /> + Here love and delight are intense.”<br /> +But alas and alas! for the hopes of my soul—<br /> + It was only the “Kingdom of Sense.”</p> +<p>As I journeyed more slowly I met on the road<br /> + A coach with retainers behind;<br /> +And they said: “Follow me, for our Lady’s abode<br /> + Belongs in that realm, you will find.”<br /> +’Twas a grand dame of fashion, a newly-made bride,<br /> + I followed, encouraged and bold;<br /> +But my hopes died away like the last gleams of day,<br /> + For we came to the “Kingdom of +Gold.”</p> +<p>At the door of a cottage I asked a fair maid.<br /> + “I have heard of that realm,” she +replied;<br /> +“But my feet never roam from the ‘Kingdom of +Home,’<br /> + So I know not the way,” and she sighed.<br /> +I looked on the cottage; how restful it seemed!<br /> + And the maid was as fair as a dove.<br /> +Great light glorified my soul as I cried:<br /> + “Why, <i>Home</i> is the ‘Kingdom of +Love’!”</p> +<h2>MEG’S CURSE</h2> +<p>The sun rode high in a cloudless sky<br /> + Of a perfect summer morn.<br /> +She stood and gazed out into the street,<br /> + And wondered why she was born.<br /> +On the topmost branch of a maple-tree<br /> + That close by the window grew,<br /> +A robin called to his mate enthralled:<br /> + “I love but you, but you, but you.”</p> +<p>A soft look came in her hardened face—<br /> + She had not wept for years;<br /> +But the robin’s trill, as some sounds will,<br /> + Jarred open the door of tears.<br /> +She thought of the old home far away;<br /> + She heard the whr-r-r of the mill;<br /> +She heard the turtle’s wild, sweet call,<br /> + And the wail of the whip-poor-will, whip-poor-will, +whip-poor-will.</p> +<p>She saw again that dusty road<br /> + Whence he came riding down;<br /> +She smelled once more the flower she wore<br /> + In the breast of her simple gown.<br /> +Out on the new-mown meadow she heard<br /> + Two blue-jays quarrel and fret,<br /> +And the warning cry of a Phoebe bird<br /> + “More wet, more wet, more wet.”</p> +<p>With a blithe “Hello” to the men below<br /> + Who were spreading the new-mown hay,<br /> +The rider drew rein at her window-pane—<br /> + How it all came back to-day!<br /> +How young she was, and how fair she was;<br /> + What innocence crowned her brow!<br /> +The future seemed fair, for Love was there—<br /> + And now—and now—and now.</p> +<p>In a dingy glass on the wall near by<br /> + She gazed on her faded face.<br /> +“Well, Meg, I declare, what a beauty you are!<br /> + She sneered, “What an angel of grace!<br /> +Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!<br /> + What a thing of beauty and grace!”<br /> +She reached out her arms with a moaning sob:<br /> + “Oh, if I could go back!”<br /> +Then, swift and strange, came a sudden change;<br /> + Her brow grew hard and black.</p> +<p>“A curse on the day and a curse on that man,<br /> + And on all who are his,” she cried;<br /> +“May he starve and be cold, may he live to be old<br /> + When all who loved him have died.”<br /> +Her wild voice frightened the robin away<br /> + From the branch by the window-sill;<br /> +And little he knew as away he flew,<br /> + Of the memories stirred by his trill.</p> +<p>He called to his mate on the grass below,<br /> + “Follow me,” as he soared on high;<br /> +And as mates have done since the world begun<br /> + She followed, and asked not why.<br /> +The dingy room seemed curtained with gloom;<br /> + Meg shivered with nameless dread.<br /> +The ghost of her youth and her murdered truth<br /> + Seemed risen up from the dead.</p> +<p>She hurried out into the noisy street,<br /> + For the silence made her afraid;<br /> +To flee from thought was all she sought,<br /> + She cared not whither she strayed.<br /> +Still on she pressed in her wild unrest<br /> + Up avenues skirting the park,<br /> +Where fashion’s throng moved gayly along<br /> + In Vanity Fair—when hark!</p> +<p>A clatter of hoofs down the stony street,<br /> + The snort of a frightened horse<br /> +That was running wild, and a laughing child<br /> + At play in its very course.<br /> +With one swift glance Meg saw it all.<br /> + “<i>His</i> child—my God! <i>his</i> +child!”<br /> +She cried aloud, as she rushed through the crowd<br /> + Like one grown suddenly wild.</p> +<p>There, almost under the iron feet,<br /> + Hemmed in by a passing cart,<br /> +Stood the baby boy—the pride and joy<br /> + Of the man who had broken her heart.<br /> +Past swooning women and shouting men<br /> + She fled like a flash of light;<br /> +With her slender arm she gathered from harm<br /> + The form of the laughing sprite.</p> +<p>The death-shod feet of the mad horse beat<br /> + Her down on the pavings grey;<br /> +But the baby laughed out with a merry shout,<br /> + And thought it splendid play.<br /> +He pulled her gown and called to her: “Say,<br /> + Dit up and do dat some more,<br /> +Das jus’ ze way my papa play<br /> + Wiz me on ze nursery floor.”</p> +<p>When the frightened father reached the scene,<br /> + His boy looked up and smiled<br /> +From the stiffening fold of the arm, death-cold,<br /> + Of Meg, who had died for his child.<br /> +Oh! idle words are a woman’s curse<br /> + Who loves as woman can;<br /> +For put to the test, she will bare her breast<br /> + And die for the sake of the man.</p> +<h2>SOLITUDE</h2> +<p>Laugh, and the world laughs with you:<br /> +Weep, and you weep alone;<br /> + For the sad old earth<br /> + Must borrow its mirth,<br /> +It has trouble enough of its own.</p> +<p>Sing, and the hills will answer;<br /> +Sigh, it is lost on the air;<br /> + The echoes bound<br /> + To a joyful sound,<br /> +But shrink from voicing care.</p> +<p>Rejoice, and men will seek you;<br /> +Grieve, and they turn and go;<br /> + They want full measure<br /> + Of all your pleasure,<br /> +But they do not want your woe.</p> +<p>Be glad, and your friends are many;<br /> +Be sad, and you lose them all;<br /> + There are none to decline<br /> + Your nectared wine,<br /> +But alone you must drink life’s gall.</p> +<p>Feast, and your halls are crowded;<br /> +Fast, and the world goes by;<br /> + Succeed and give,<br /> + And it helps you live,<br /> +But it cannot help you die.</p> +<p>There is room in the halls of pleasure<br /> +For a long and lordly train;<br /> + But one by one<br /> + We must all file on<br /> +Through the narrow aisles of pain.</p> +<h2>THE GOSSIPS</h2> +<p>A rose in my garden, the sweetest and fairest,<br /> + Was hanging her head through the long golden +hours;<br /> +And early one morning I saw her tears falling,<br /> + And heard a low gossiping talk in the bowers.<br /> +The yellow Nasturtium, a spinster all faded,<br /> + Was telling a Lily what ailed the poor Rose:<br /> +“That wild roving Bee who was hanging about her,<br /> + Has jilted her squarely, as every one knows.</p> +<p>“I knew when he came, with his singing and sighing,<br +/> + His airs and his speeches so fine and so sweet,<br +/> +Just how it would end; but no one would believe me,<br /> + For all were quite ready to fall at his +feet.”<br /> +“Indeed, you are wrong,” said the Lily-belle +proudly,<br /> + “I cared nothing for him; he called on me +once,<br /> +And would have come often, no doubt, if I’d asked him,<br +/> + But though he was handsome, I thought him a +dunce.”</p> +<p>“Now, now, that’s not true,” cried the tall +Oleander.<br /> + “He has travelled and seen every flower that +grows;<br /> +And one who has supped in the garden of princes,<br /> + We all might have known would not we with the +Rose.”<br /> +“But wasn’t she proud when he showed her +attention?<br /> + And she let him caress her,” said sly +Mignonette;<br /> +“And I used to see it and blush for her folly.<br /> + The silly thing thinks he will come to her +yet.”</p> +<p>“I thought he was splendid,” said pretty pert +Larkspur,<br /> + “So dark, and so grand with that gay cloak of +gold;<br /> +But he tried once to kiss me, the impudent fellow!<br /> + And I got offended; I thought him too +bold.”<br /> +“Oh, fie!” laughed the Almond, “that does for a +story.<br /> + Though I hang down my head, yet I see all that +goes;<br /> +And I saw you reach out trying hard to detain him,<br /> + But he just tapped your cheek and flew by to the +Rose.</p> +<p>“He cared nothing for her; he only was flirting<br /> + To while away time, as I very well knew;<br /> +So I turned a cold shoulder on all his advances,<br /> + Because I was certain his heart was +untrue.”<br /> +“The Rose is served right for her folly in trusting<br /> + An oily-tongued stranger,” quoth proud +Columbine.<br /> +“I knew what he was, and thought once I would warn her,<br +/> + But of course the affair was no business of +mine.”</p> +<p>“Oh, well,” cried the Peony, shrugging her +shoulders,<br /> + “I saw all along that the Bee was a flirt;<br +/> +But the Rose has been always so praised and so petted,<br /> + I thought a good lesson would do her no +hurt.”<br /> +Just then came the sound of a love-song sung sweetly,<br /> + I saw my proud Rose lifting up her bowed head;<br /> +And the talk of the gossips was hushed in a moment,<br /> + And the flowers all listened to hear what was +said.</p> +<p>And the dark, handsome Bee, with his cloak o’er his +shoulder,<br /> + Came swift through the sunlight and kissed the sad +Rose,<br /> +And whispered: “My darling, I’ve roved the world +over,<br /> + And you are the loveliest flower that +grows.”</p> +<h2>PLATONIC</h2> +<p>I knew it the first of the summer,<br /> + I knew it the same at the end,<br /> +That you and your love were plighted,<br /> + But couldn’t you be my friend?<br /> +Couldn’t we sit in the twilight,<br /> + Couldn’t we walk on the shore<br /> +With only a pleasant friendship<br /> + To bind us, and nothing more?</p> +<p>There was not a word of folly<br /> + Spoken between us two,<br /> +Though we lingered oft in the garden<br /> + Till the roses were wet with dew.<br /> +We touched on a thousand subjects—<br /> + The moon and the worlds above,—<br /> +And our talk was tinctured with science,<br /> + And everything else, save love.</p> +<p>A wholly Platonic friendship<br /> + You said I had proven to you<br /> +Could bind a man and a woman<br /> + The whole long season through,<br /> +With never a thought of flirting,<br /> + Though both were in their youth<br /> +What would you have said, my lady,<br /> + If you had known the truth!</p> +<p>What would you have done, I wonder,<br /> + Had I gone on my knees to you<br /> +And told you my passionate story,<br /> + There in the dusk and the dew?<br /> +My burning, burdensome story,<br /> + Hidden and hushed so long—<br /> +My story of hopeless loving—<br /> + Say, would you have thought it wrong?</p> +<p>But I fought with my heart and conquered,<br /> + I hid my wound from sight;<br /> +You were going away in the morning,<br /> + And I said a calm good-night.<br /> +But now when I sit in the twilight,<br /> + Or when I walk by the sea<br /> +That friendship, quite Platonic,<br /> + Comes surging over me.</p> +<p>And a passionate longing fills me<br /> + For the roses, the dusk, the dew;<br /> +For the beautiful summer vanished,<br /> + For the moonlight walks—and <i>you</i>.</p> +<h2>GRANDPA’S CHRISTMAS</h2> +<p>In his great cushioned chair by the fender<br /> + An old man sits dreaming to-night,<br /> +His withered hands, licked by the tender<br /> + Warm rays of the red anthracite,<br /> +Are folded before him, all listless;<br /> + His dim eyes are fixed on the blaze,<br /> +While over him sweeps the resistless<br /> + Flood-tide of old days.</p> +<p>He hears not the mirth in the hallway,<br /> + He hears not the sounds of good cheer,<br /> +That through the old homestead ring alway<br /> + In the glad Christmas-time of the year.<br /> +He heeds not the chime of sweet voices<br /> + As the last gifts are hung on the tree.<br /> +In a long-vanished day he rejoices—<br /> + In his lost Used-to-be.</p> +<p>He has gone back across dead Decembers<br /> + To his childhood’s fair land of delight;<br /> +And his mother’s sweet smile he remembers,<br /> + As he hangs up his stocking at night.<br /> +He remembers the dream-haunted slumber<br /> + All broken and restless because<br /> +Of the visions that came without number<br /> + Of dear Santa Claus.</p> +<p>Again, in his manhood’s beginning,<br /> + He sees himself thrown on the world,<br /> +And into the vortex of sinning<br /> + By Pleasure’s strong arms he is hurled.<br /> +He hears the sweet Christmas bells ringing,<br /> + “Repent ye, repent ye, and pray”;<br /> +But he joins with his comrades in singing<br /> + A bacchanal lay.</p> +<p>Again he stands under the holly<br /> + With a blushing face lifted to his<br /> +For love has been stronger than folly,<br /> + And has turned him from vice unto bliss;<br /> +And the whole world is lit with new glory<br /> + As the sweet vows are uttered again,<br /> +While the Christmas bells tell the old story<br /> + Of peace unto men.</p> +<p>Again, with his little brood ’round him,<br /> + He sits by the fair mother-wife;<br /> +He knows that the angels have crowned him<br /> + With the truest, best riches of life;<br /> +And the hearts of the children, untroubled,<br /> + Are filled with the gay Christmas-tide;<br /> +And the gifts for sweet Maudie are doubled,<br /> + Tis her birthday, beside.</p> +<p>Again,—ah, dear Jesus, have pity—<br /> + He finds in the chill, waning day,<br /> +That one has come home from the city—<br /> + Frail Maudie, whom love led astray.<br /> +She lies with her babe on her bosom—<br /> + Half-hid by the snow’s fleecy spread;<br /> +A bud and a poor trampled blossom—<br /> + And both are quite dead.</p> +<p>So fair and so fragile! just twenty—<br /> + How mocking the bells sound to-night!<br /> +She starved in this great land of plenty,<br /> + When she tried to grope back to the light.<br /> +Christ. are Thy disciples inhuman,<br /> + Or only for <i>men</i> hast Thou died?<br /> +No mercy is shown to a woman<br /> + Who once steps aside.</p> +<p>Again he leans over the shrouded<br /> + Still form of the mother and wife;<br /> +Very lonely the way seems, and clouded,<br /> + As he looks down the vista of life.<br /> +With the sweet Christmas chimes there is blended<br /> + The knell for a life that is done,<br /> +And he knows that his joys are all ended<br /> + And his waiting begun.</p> +<p>So long have the years been, so lonely,<br /> + As he counts them by Christmases gone.<br /> +“I am homesick,” he murmurs; “if only<br /> + The Angel would lead the way on.<br /> +I am cold, in this chill winter weather;<br /> + Why, Maudie, dear, where have you been?<br /> +And you, too, sweet wife—and together—<br /> + O Christ, let me in”</p> +<p>The children ran in from the hallway,<br /> + “Were you calling us, grandpa?” they +said.<br /> +Then shrank, with that fear that comes alway<br /> + When young eyes look their first on the dead.<br /> +The freedom so longed for is given.<br /> + The children speak low and draw near:<br /> +“Dear grandpa keeps Christmas in Heaven<br /> + With grandma, this year.”</p> +<h2>AFTER THE ENGAGEMENT</h2> +<p>Well, Mabel, ’tis over and ended—<br /> + The ball I wrote was to be;<br /> +And oh! it was perfectly splendid—<br /> + If you <i>could</i> have been here to see.<br /> +I’ve a thousand things to write you<br /> + That I know you are wanting to hear,<br /> +And one, that is sure to delight you—<br /> + I am wearing Joe’s diamond, my dear!</p> +<p>Yes, mamma is quite ecstatic<br /> + That I am engaged to Joe;<br /> +She thinks I am rather erratic,<br /> + And feared that I might say “No.”<br /> +But, Mabel, I’m twenty-seven<br /> + (Though nobody <i>dreams</i> it, dear),<br /> +And a fortune like Joe’s isn’t given<br /> + To lay at one’s feet each year.</p> +<p>You know my old fancy for Harry—<br /> + Or, at least, I am certain you guessed<br /> +That it took all my sense not to marry<br /> + And go with that fellow out west.<br /> +But that was my very first season—<br /> + And Harry was poor as could be,<br /> +And mamma’s good practical reason<br /> + Took all the romance out of me.</p> +<p>She whisked me off over the ocean,<br /> + And had me presented at court,<br /> +And got me all out of the notion<br /> + That ranch life out west was my forte.<br /> +Of course I have never repented—<br /> + I’m not such a goose of a thing;<br /> +But after I had consented<br /> + To Joe—and he gave me the ring—</p> +<p>I felt such a queer sensation.<br /> + I seemed to go into a trance,<br /> +Away from the music’s pulsation,<br /> + Away from the lights and the dance.<br /> +And the wind o’er the wild prairie<br /> + Seemed blowing strong and free,<br /> +And it seemed not Joe, but Harry<br /> + Who was standing there close to me.</p> +<p>And the funniest feverish feeling<br /> + Went up from my feet to my head,<br /> +With little chills after it stealing—<br /> + And my hands got as numb as the dead.<br /> +A moment, and then it was over:<br /> + The diamond blazed up in my eyes,<br /> +And I saw in the face of my lover<br /> + A questioning, strange surprise.</p> +<p>Maybe ’twas the scent of the flowers,<br /> + That heavy with fragrance bloomed near,<br /> +But I didn’t feel natural for hours;<br /> + It was odd now, wasn’t it, dear?<br /> +Write soon to your fortunate Clara,<br /> + Who has carried the prize away,<br /> +And say you’ll come on when I marry,—<br /> + I think it will happen in May.</p> +<h2>A HOLIDAY</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">The Wife</span></p> +<p>The house is like a garden,<br /> + The children are the flowers,<br /> +The gardener should come methinks<br /> + And walk among his bowers,<br /> +Oh! lock the door on worry<br /> + And shut your cares away,<br /> +Not time of year, but love and cheer,<br /> + Will make a holiday.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">The Husband</span></p> +<p>Impossible! You women do not know<br /> +The toil it takes to make a business grow.<br /> +I cannot join you until very late,<br /> +So hurry home, nor let the dinner wait.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">The Wife</span></p> +<p>The feast will be like <i>Hamlet</i><br /> + Without a Hamlet part:<br /> +The home is but a house, dear,<br /> + Till you supply the heart.<br /> +The Xmas gift I long for<br /> + You need not toil to buy;<br /> +Oh! give me back one thing I lack—<br /> + The love-light in your eye.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">The Husband</span></p> +<p>Of course I love you, and the children too<br /> +Be sensible, my dear, it is for you<br /> +I work so hard to make my business pay.<br /> +There, now, run home, enjoy your holiday.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">The Wife</span> (<i>turning</i>)</p> +<p>He does not mean to wound me,<br /> + I know his heart is kind.<br /> +Alas! that man can love us<br /> + And be so blind, so blind.<br /> +A little time for pleasure,<br /> + A little time for play;<br /> +A word to prove the life of love<br /> + And frighten Care away!<br /> +Tho’ poor my lot in some small cot<br /> + <i>That</i> were a holiday.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">The Husband</span> (<i>musing</i>)</p> +<p>She has not meant to wound me, nor to vex—<br /> +Zounds! but ’tis difficult to please the sex.<br /> +I’ve housed and gowned her like a very queen<br /> +Yet there she goes, with discontented mien.<br /> +I gave her diamonds only yesterday:<br /> +Some women are like that, do what you may.</p> +<h2>FALSE</h2> +<p>False! Good God, I am dreaming!<br /> + No, no, it never can be—<br /> +You who are so true in seeming,<br /> + You, false to your vows and me?<br /> +My wife and my fair boy’s mother<br /> + The star of my life—my queen—<br /> +To yield herself to another<br /> + Like some light Magdalene!</p> +<p>Proofs! what are proofs—I defy them!<br /> + They never can shake my trust;<br /> +If you look in my face and deny them<br /> + I will trample them into the dust.<br /> +For whenever I read of the glory<br /> + Of the realms of Paradise,<br /> +I sought for the truth of the story<br /> + And found it in your sweet eyes.</p> +<p>Why, you are the shy young creature<br /> + I wooed in her maiden grace;<br /> +There was purity in each feature,<br /> + And my heaven I found in your face.<br /> +And, “not only married but mated,”<br /> + I would say in my pride and joy;<br /> +And our hopes were all consummated<br /> + When the angels gave us our boy.</p> +<p>Now you could not blot that beginning<br /> + So beautiful, pure and true,<br /> +With a record of wicked sinning<br /> + As a common woman might do.<br /> +Look up in your old frank fashion,<br /> + With your smile so free from art;<br /> +And say that no guilty passion<br /> + Has ever crept into your heart.</p> +<p>How pallid you are, and you tremble!<br /> + You are hiding your face from view!<br /> +“Tho’ a sinner, you cannot dissemble”—<br +/> + My God! then the tale is true?<br /> +True, and the sun above us<br /> + Shines on in the summer skies?<br /> +And men say the angels love us,<br /> + And that God is good and wise.</p> +<p>Yet he lets a wanton thing like you<br /> + Ruin my home and my name!<br /> +Get out of my sight or I strike you<br /> + Dead in your shameless shame!<br /> +No, no, I was wild, I was brutal;<br /> + I would not take your life,<br /> +For the efforts of death would be futile<br /> + To wipe out the sin of a wife.<br /> +Wife—why, that word has seemed sainted<br /> + I uttered it like a prayer;<br /> +And now to think it is tainted—<br /> + Christ! how much we can bear!</p> +<p>“Slay you!” my boy’s stained +mother—<br /> + Nay, that would not punish, or save;<br /> +A soul that has outraged another<br /> + Finds no sudden peace in the grave.<br /> +I will leave you here to <i>remember</i><br /> + The Eden that was your own,<br /> +While on toward my life’s December<br /> + I walk in the dark alone.</p> +<h2>TWO SINNERS</h2> +<p>There was a man, it was said one time,<br /> +Who went astray in his youthful prime.<br /> +Can the brain keep cool and the heart keep quiet<br /> +When the blood is a river that’s running riot?<br /> +And boys will be boys, the old folks say,<br /> +And a man is the better who’s had his day</p> +<p>The sinner reformed; and the preacher told<br /> +Of the prodigal son who came back to the fold.<br /> +And Christian people threw open the door,<br /> +With a warmer welcome than ever before.<br /> +Wealth and honour were his to command,<br /> +And a spotless woman gave him her hand.<br /> +And the world strewed their pathway with blossoms abloom,<br /> +Crying, “God bless ladye, and God bless groom!”</p> +<p>There was a maiden who went astray,<br /> +In the golden dawn of her life’s young day.<br /> +She had more passion and heart than head,<br /> +And she followed blindly where fond Love led.<br /> +And Love unchecked is a dangerous guide<br /> +To wander at will by a fair girl’s side.</p> +<p>The woman repented and turned from sin,<br /> +But no door opened to let her in.<br /> +The preacher prayed that she might be forgiven,<br /> +But told her to look for mercy—in heaven.<br /> +For this is the law of the earth, we know:<br /> +That the woman is stoned, while the man may go.</p> +<p>A brave man wedded her after all,<br /> +But the world said, frowning, “We shall not +call.”</p> +<h2>THE PHANTOM BALL</h2> +<p>You remember the hall on the corner?<br /> + To-night as I walked down street<br /> +I heard the sound of music,<br /> + And the rhythmic beat and beat,<br /> +In time to the pulsing measure<br /> + Of lightly tripping feet.</p> +<p>And I turned and entered the doorway—<br /> + It was years since I had been there—<br /> +Years, and life seemed altered:<br /> + Pleasure had changed to care.<br /> +But again I was hearing the music<br /> + And watching the dancers fair.</p> +<p>And then, as I stood and listened,<br /> + The music lost its glee;<br /> +And instead of the merry waltzers<br /> + There were ghosts of the Used-to-be—<br /> +Ghosts of the pleasure-seekers<br /> + Who once had danced with me.</p> +<p>Oh, ’twas a ghastly picture!<br /> + Oh, ’twas a gruesome crowd!<br /> +Each bearing a skull on his shoulder,<br /> + Each trailing a long white shroud,<br /> +As they whirled in the dance together,<br /> + And the music shrieked aloud.</p> +<p>As they danced, their dry bones rattled<br /> + Like shutters in a blast;<br /> +And they stared from eyeless sockets<br /> + On me as they circled past;<br /> +And the music that kept them whirling<br /> + Was a funeral dirge played fast.</p> +<p>Some of them wore their face-cloths,<br /> + Others were rotted away.<br /> +Some had mould on their garments,<br /> + And some seemed dead but a day.<br /> +Corpses all, but I knew them<br /> + As friends, once blithe and gay.</p> +<p>Beauty and strength and manhood—<br /> + And this was the end of it all:<br /> +Nothing but phantoms whirling<br /> + In a ghastly skeleton ball.<br /> +But the music ceased—and they vanished,<br /> + And I came away from the hall.</p> +<h2>WORDS AND THOUGHTS</h2> +<p>He said as he sat in her theatre box<br /> +Between the acts, “What beastly weather!<br /> +How like a parrot the lover talks—<br /> +And the lady is tame, and the villain stalks—<br /> +I hope they finally die together.”</p> +<p>He thought—“<i>You are fair as the dawn’s +first ray</i>;<br /> +<i>I know the angels keep guard above you</i>.<br /> +<i>And so I chatter of weather</i>, <i>and play</i>,<br /> +<i>While all the time I am mad to say</i>,<br /> +<i>I love you</i>, <i>love you</i>, <i>love you</i>.”</p> +<p>He said—“The season is almost run;<br /> +How glad we are, when the whirl is over!<br /> +For the toil of pleasure is more than its fun,<br /> +And what is it all, when all is done,<br /> +But the stick of a rocket that has descended?”</p> +<p>He thought—“<i>Oh God</i>! <i>to be off +somewhere</i><br /> +<i>Afar with you</i>, <i>from this scene of fashion</i>;<br /> +<i>To know you were mine</i>, <i>and to have you care</i>,<br /> +<i>And to lose myself in the crimson snare</i><br /> +<i>Of your lips</i>, <i>in a kiss of passion</i>.”</p> +<p>He said—“You are going abroad, no doubt,<br /> +This land of Liberty coldly scorning.<br /> +I too shall journey a bit about,<br /> +From Wall Street up by the L. Road out<br /> +To Harlem, and down each morning.”</p> +<p>He thought—“<i>It must follow on land or +sea</i>,<br /> +<i>This pent-up</i>, <i>passionate</i>, <i>dumb devotion</i>,<br +/> +<i>Till the cry of a rapture that may not be</i><br /> +<i>Shall reach your heart from the heart of me</i><br /> +<i>And stir you with strange emotion</i>.”</p> +<h2>WANTED—A LITTLE GIRL</h2> +<p>Where have they gone to—the little girls<br /> +With natural manners and natural curls;<br /> +Who love their dollies and like their toys,<br /> +And talk of something besides the boys?</p> +<p>Little old women in plenty I find,<br /> +Mature in manners and old of mind;<br /> +Little old flirts who talk of their “beaux,”<br /> +And vie with each other in stylish clothes.</p> +<p>Little old belles who, at nine and ten,<br /> +Are sick of pleasure and tired of men;<br /> +Weary of travel, of balls, of fun,<br /> +And find no new thing under the sun.</p> +<p>Once, in the beautiful long ago,<br /> +Some dear little children I used to know;<br /> +Girls who were merry as lambs at play,<br /> +And laughed and rollicked the livelong day.</p> +<p>They thought not at all of the “style” of their +clothes,<br /> +They never imagined that boys were “beaux”—<br +/> +“Other girls’ brothers” and “mates” +were they,<br /> +Splendid fellows to help them play.</p> +<p>Where have they gone to? If you see<br /> +One of them anywhere send her to me.<br /> +I would give a medal of purest gold<br /> +To one of those dear little girls of old,<br /> +With an innocent heart and an open smile,<br /> +Who knows not the meaning of “flirt” or +“style.”</p> +<h2>THE SUICIDE</h2> +<p>Vast was the wealth I carried in life’s pack—<br +/> + Youth, health, ambition, hope and trust; but Time<br +/> + And Fate, those robbers fit for any crime,<br /> +Stole all, and left me but the empty sack.<br /> +Before me lay a long and lonely track<br /> + Of darkling hills and barren steeps to climb;<br /> + Behind me lay in shadows the sublime<br /> +Lost lands of Love’s delight. Alack! Alack!</p> +<p>Unwearied, and with springing steps elate,<br /> + I had conveyed my wealth along the road.<br /> + The empty sack proved now a heavier load:<br /> +I was borne down beneath its worthless weight.<br /> +I stumbled on, and knocked at Death’s dark gate.<br /> + There was no answer. Stung by sorrow’s +goad<br /> + I <i>forced</i> my way into that grim abode,<br /> +And laughed, and flung Life’s empty sack to Fate.</p> +<p>Unknown and uninvited I passed in<br /> + To that strange land that hangs between two +goals,<br /> + Round which a dark and solemn river rolls—<br +/> +More dread its silence than the loud earth’s din.<br /> +And now, where was the peace I hoped to win?<br /> + Black-masted ships slid past me in great shoals,<br +/> + Their bloody decks thronged with mistaken souls.<br +/> +(God punishes mistakes sometimes like sin.)</p> +<p>Not rest and not oblivion I found.<br /> + My suffering self dwelt with me just the same;<br /> + But here no sleep was, and no sweet dreams came<br +/> +To give me respite. Tyrant Death, uncrowned<br /> +By my own hand, still King of Terrors, frowned<br /> + Upon my shuddering soul, that shrank in shame<br /> + Before those eyes where sorrow blent with blame,<br +/> +And those accusing lips that made no sound.</p> +<p>What gruesome shapes dawned on my startled sight<br /> + What awful sighs broke on my listening ear!<br /> + The anguish of the earth, augmented here<br /> +A thousand-fold, made one continuous night.<br /> +The sack I flung away in impious spite<br /> + Hung yet upon me, filled, I saw in fear.<br /> + With tears that rained from earth’s adjacent +sphere,<br /> +And turned to stones in falling from that height.</p> +<p>And close about me pressed a grieving throng,<br /> + Each with his heavy sack, which bowed him so<br /> + His face was hidden. One of these mourned: +“Know<br /> +Who enters here but finds the way more long<br /> +To those fair realms where sounds the angels’ song.<br /> + There is no man-made exit out of woe;<br /> + Ye cannot dash the locked door down and go<br /> +To claim thy rightful joy through paths of wrong.”</p> +<p>He passed into the shadows dim and grey,<br /> + And left me to pursue my path alone.<br /> + With terror greater than I yet had known.<br /> +Hard on my soul the awful knowledge lay,<br /> +Death had not ended life nor found God’s way;<br /> + But, with my same sad sorrows still my own,<br /> + Where by-roads led to by-roads, thistle-sown,<br /> +I had but wandered off and gone astray.</p> +<p>With earth still near enough to hear its sighs,<br /> + With heaven afar and hell but just below,<br /> + Still on and on my lonely soul must go<br /> +Until I earn the right to Paradise.<br /> +We cannot force our way into God’s skies,<br /> + Nor rush into the rest we long to know;<br /> + But patiently, with bleeding steps and slow<br /> +Toil on to where selfhood in Godhood dies.</p> +<h2>“NOW I LAY ME”</h2> +<p>When I pass from earth away,<br /> +Palsied though I be and grey,<br /> +May my spirit keep so young<br /> +That my failing, faltering tongue<br /> +Frames that prayer so dear to me,<br /> +Taught me at my mother’s knee:<br /> +“<i>Now I lay me down to sleep</i>,”<br /> +(Passing to Eternal rest<br /> +On the loving parent breast)<br /> +“<i>I pray the Lord my soul to keep</i>;”<br /> +(From all danger safe and calm<br /> +In the hollow of His palm;)<br /> +“<i>If I should die before I wake</i>,”<br /> +(Drifting with a bated breath<br /> +Out of slumber into death,)<br /> +“<i>I pray the Lord my soul to take</i>.”<br /> +(From the body’s claim set free<br /> +Sheltered in the Great to be.)<br /> +Simple prayer of trust and truth.<br /> +Taught me in my early youth—<br /> +Let my soul its beauty keep<br /> +When I lay me down to sleep.</p> +<h2>THE MESSENGER</h2> +<p>She rose up in the early dawn,<br /> + And white and silently she moved<br /> +About the house. Four men had gone<br /> + To battle for the land they loved,<br /> +And she, the mother and the wife,<br /> +Waited for tidings from the strife.<br /> +How still the house seemed! and her tread<br /> +Was like the footsteps of the dead.</p> +<p>The long day passed, the dark night came;<br /> + She had not seen a human face.<br /> +Some voice spoke suddenly her name.<br /> + How loud it echoed in that place<br /> +Where, day by day, no sound was heard<br /> +But her own footsteps! “Bring you word,”<br /> +She cried to whom she could not see,<br /> +“Word from the battle-plain to me?”</p> +<p>A soldier entered at the door,<br /> + And stood within the dim firelight:<br /> +“I bring you tidings of the four,”<br /> + He said, “who left you for the +fight.”<br /> +“God bless you, friend,” she cried; “speak +on!<br /> +For I can bear it. One is gone?”<br /> +“Ay, one is gone!” he said. “Which +one?”<br /> +“Dear lady, he, your eldest son.”</p> +<p>A deathly pallor shot across<br /> + Her withered face; she did not weep.<br /> +She said: “It is a grievous loss,<br /> + But God gives His belovèd sleep.<br /> +What of the living—of the three?<br /> +And when can they come back to me?”<br /> +The soldier turned away his head:<br /> +“Lady, your husband, too, is dead.”</p> +<p>She put her hand upon her brow;<br /> + A wild, sharp pain was in her eyes.<br /> +“My husband! Oh, God, help me now!”<br /> + The soldier heard her shuddering sighs.<br /> +The task was harder than he thought.<br /> +“Your youngest son, dear madam, fought<br /> +Close at his father’s side; both fell<br /> +Dead, by the bursting of a shell.”</p> +<p>She moved her lips and seemed to moan.<br /> + Her face had paled to ashen grey:<br /> +“Then one is left me—one alone,”<br /> + She said, “of four who marched away.<br /> +Oh, overruling, All-wise God,<br /> +How can I pass beneath Thy rod!”<br /> +The soldier walked across the floor,<br /> +Paused at the window, at the door,</p> +<p>Wiped the cold dew-drops from his cheek<br /> + And sought the mourner’s side again.<br /> +“Once more, dear lady, I must speak:<br /> + Your last remaining son was slain<br /> +Just at the closing of the fight;<br /> +Twas he who sent me here to-night.”<br /> +“God knows,” the man said afterward,<br /> +“The fight itself was not so hard.”</p> +<h2>A SERVIAN LEGEND</h2> +<p>Long, long ago, ere yet our race began,<br /> +When earth was empty, waiting still for man,<br /> +Before the breath of life to him was given<br /> +The angels fell into a strife in heaven.</p> +<p>At length one furious demon grasped the sun<br /> +And sped away as fast as he could run,<br /> +And with a ringing laugh of fiendish mirth,<br /> +He leaped the battlements and fell to earth.</p> +<p>Dark was it then in heaven, but light below;<br /> +For there the demon wandered to and fro,<br /> +Tilting aloft upon a slender pole<br /> +The orb of day—the pilfering old soul.</p> +<p>The angels wept and wailed; but through the dark<br /> +The Great Creator’s voice cried sternly: “Hark!<br /> +Who will restore to me the orb of Light,<br /> +Him will I honour in all heaven’s sight.”</p> +<p>Then over the battlements there dropped another.<br /> +(A shrewder angel well there could not be.)<br /> +Quoth he: “Behold my love for thee, my brother,<br /> +For I have left all heaven to stay with thee.</p> +<p>“Thy loneliness and wanderings I will share,<br /> +Thy heavy burden I will help thee bear.”<br /> +“Well said,” the demon answered, “and well +done,<br /> +But I’ll not tax you with this heavy sun.</p> +<p>“Your company will cheer me, it is true,<br /> +And I could never think of burdening you.”<br /> +Idly they wandered onward, side by side,<br /> +Till, by and by, they neared a silvery tide.</p> +<p>“Let’s bathe,” the angel suddenly +suggested.<br /> +“Agreed,” the demon answered. “I’ll +go last,<br /> +Because I needs must leave quite unmolested<br /> +This tiresome sun, which I will now make fast.</p> +<p>He set the pole well in the sandy turf,<br /> +And called a jackdaw near to watch the place.<br /> +Meanwhile the angel paddled in the surf,<br /> +And playfully dared his brother to a race.</p> +<p>They swam around together for a while,<br /> +The demon always keeping near his prize,<br /> +Till presently the angel, with a smile,<br /> +Proposed a healthful diving exercise.</p> +<p>The demon hesitated. “But,” thought he,<br +/> +“The jackdaw will inform me with a cry<br /> +If this good brother tries deceiving me;<br /> +I will not be outdone by him—not I!”</p> +<p>Down, down they went. The angel in a trice<br /> +Rose up again, and swift to shore he sped.<br /> +The jackdaw shrieked, but lo! a mile of ice<br /> +The demon found had frozen o’er his head.</p> +<p>He swore an oath, and gathered all his force,<br /> +And broke the ice, to see the sun, of course,<br /> +Held firmly in the radiant angel’s hand,<br /> +Who sailed away toward the heavenly land.</p> +<p>He gave pursuit. Wrath lent speed to his chase;<br /> +All heaven leaned down to watch the exciting race.<br /> +On, on they came, and still the Evil One<br /> +Gained on the angel burdened with the sun.</p> +<p>With bated breath and faces white as ghosts,<br /> +Over the walls leaned heaven’s affrighted hosts.<br /> +Up, up, still up, the angel almost spent,<br /> +Threw one foot forward o’er the battlement.</p> +<p>The demon seized the other with a shout;<br /> +So fierce his clutch he pulled the bottom out,<br /> +As the good angel, fainting, laid the sun<br /> +Down by the throne of God, who cried: “Well done!<br /> +Thy great misfortune shall be made divine:<br /> +<i>Man</i> will I create with a foot like thine!”</p> +<h2>PEEK-A-BOO</h2> +<p>The cunningest thing that a baby can do<br /> +Is the very first time it plays peek-a-boo;</p> +<p>When it hides its pink little face in its hands,<br /> +And crows, and shows that it understands</p> +<p>What nurse, and mamma and papa, too,<br /> +Mean when they hide and cry, “Peek a-boo, +peek-a-boo.”</p> +<p>Oh, what a wonderful thing it is,<br /> +When they find that baby can play like this!</p> +<p>And every one listens, and thinks it true<br /> +That baby’s gurgle means “Peek-a-boo, +peek-a-boo”;</p> +<p>And over and over the changes are rung<br /> +On the marvellous infant who talks so young.</p> +<p>I wonder if any one ever knew<br /> +A baby that never played peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo.</p> +<p>’Tis old as the hills are. I believe<br /> +Cain was taught it by Mother Eve;</p> +<p>For Cain was an innocent baby, too,<br /> +And I am sure he played peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo.</p> +<p>And the whole world full of the children of men,<br /> +Have all of them played that game since then.</p> +<p>Kings and princes and beggars, too,<br /> +Every one has played peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo.</p> +<p>Thief and robber and ruffian bold,<br /> +The crazy tramp and the drunkard old,</p> +<p>All have been babies who laughed and knew<br /> +How to hide, and play peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo.</p> +<h2>THE FALLING OF THRONES</h2> +<p>Above the din of commerce, above the clamour and rattle<br /> + Of labour disputing with riches, of +Anarchists’ threats and groans,<br /> +Above the hurry and hustle and roar of that bloodless battle,<br +/> + Where men are fighting for riches, I hear the +falling of thrones.</p> +<p>I see no savage host, I hear no martial drumming,<br /> + But down in the dust at our feet lie the useless +crowns of kings;<br /> +And the mighty spirit of Progress is steadily coming, coming,<br +/> + And the flag of one republic abroad to the world he +flings.</p> +<p>The Universal Republic, where worth, not birth, is royal;<br +/> + Where the lowliest born may climb on a self-made +ladder to fame;<br /> +Where the highest and proudest born, if he be not true and +loyal,<br /> + Shall find no masking title to cover and gild his +shame.</p> +<p>Not with the bellow of guns and not with sabres whetting,<br +/> + But with growing minds of men is waged this +swordless fray;<br /> +While over the dim horizon the sun of royalty, setting,<br /> + Lights, with a dying splendour, the humblest +toiler’s way.</p> +<h2>HER LAST LETTER</h2> +<p>Sitting alone by the window,<br /> + Watching the moonlit street,<br /> +Bending my head to listen<br /> + To the well-known sound of your feet,<br /> +I have been wondering, darling,<br /> + How I can bear the pain,<br /> +When I watch, with sighs and tear-wet eyes,<br /> + And wait for your coming in vain.</p> +<p>For I know that a day approaches<br /> + When your heart will tire of me;<br /> +When by door and gate I may watch and wait<br /> + For a form I shall not see;<br /> +When the love that is now my heaven,<br /> + The kisses that make my life,<br /> +You will bestow on another,<br /> + And that other will be—your wife.</p> +<p>You will grow weary of sinning<br /> + (Though you do not call it so),<br /> +You will long for a love that is purer<br /> + Than the love that we two know.<br /> +God knows I have loved you dearly,<br /> + With a passion strong as true;<br /> +But you will grow tired and leave me,<br /> + Though I gave up all for you.</p> +<p>I was as pure as the morning<br /> + When I first looked on your face;<br /> +I knew I never could reach you<br /> + In your high, exalted place.<br /> +But I looked and loved and worshipped<br /> + As a flower might worship a star,<br /> +And your eyes shone down upon me,<br /> + And you seemed so far—so far.</p> +<p>And then? Well, then, you loved me,<br /> + Loved me with all your heart;<br /> +But we could not stand at the altar—<br /> + We were so far apart.<br /> +If a star should wed with a flower<br /> + The star must drop from the sky,<br /> +Or the flower in trying to reach it<br /> + Would droop on its stalk and die.</p> +<p>But you said that you loved me, darling,<br /> + And swore by the heavens above<br /> +That the Lord and all of His angels<br /> + Would sanction and bless our love.<br /> +And I? I was weak, not wicked.<br /> + My love was as pure as true,<br /> +And sin itself seemed a virtue<br /> + If only shared by you.</p> +<p>We have been happy together,<br /> + Though under the cloud of sin,<br /> +But I know that the day approaches<br /> + When my chastening must begin.<br /> +You have been faithful and tender,<br /> + But you will not always be,<br /> +But I think I had better leave you<br /> + While your thoughts are kind of me.</p> +<p>I know my beauty is fading—<br /> + Sin furrows the fairest brow—<br /> +And I know that your heart will weary<br /> + Of the face you smile on now.<br /> +You will take a bride to your bosom<br /> + After you turn from me;<br /> +You will sit with your wife in the moonlight,<br /> + And bold her babe on your knee.</p> +<p>O God! I never could bear it;<br /> + It would madden my brain, I know;<br /> +And so while you love me dearly<br /> + I think I had better go.<br /> +It is sweeter to feel, my darling—<br /> + To know as I fall asleep—<br /> +That some one will mourn me and miss me,<br /> + That some one is left to weep,</p> +<p>Than to die as I should in the future,<br /> + To drop in the street some day,<br /> +Unknown, unwept, and forgotten<br /> + After you cast me away.<br /> +Perhaps the blood of the Saviour<br /> + Can wash my garments clean;<br /> +Perchance I may drink of the waters<br /> + That flow through pastures green.</p> +<p>Perchance we may meet in heaven,<br /> + And walk in the streets above,<br /> +With nothing to grieve us or part us<br /> + Since our sinning was all through love<br /> +God says, “Love one another,”<br /> + And down to the depths of hell<br /> +Will He send the soul of a woman<br /> + Because she loved—and fell?</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p>And so in the moonlight he found her,<br /> + Or found her beautiful clay,<br /> +Lifeless and pallid as marble,<br /> + For the spirit had flown away.<br /> +The farewell words she had written<br /> + She held to her cold, white breast,<br /> +And the buried blade of a dagger<br /> + Told how she had gone to rest.</p> +<h2>THE PRINCESS’S FINGER-NAIL: A TALE OF NONSENSE +LAND</h2> +<p>All through the Castle of High-bred Ease,<br /> +Where the chief employment was do-as-you-please,<br /> +Spread consternation and wild despair.<br /> +The queen was wringing her hands and hair;<br /> +The maids of honour were sad and solemn;<br /> +The pages looked blank as they stood in column;<br /> +The court-jester blubbered, “Boo-hoo, boo-hoo”<br /> +The cook in the kitchen dropped tears in the stew<br /> +And all through the castle went sob and wail,<br /> +For the princess had broken her finger-nail:<br /> +The beautiful Princess Red-as-a-Rose,<br /> +Bride-elect of the Lord High-Nose,<br /> +Broken her finger-nail down to the quick—<br /> +No wonder the queen and her court were sick.<br /> +Never sorrow so dread before<br /> +Had dared to enter that castle door.<br /> +Oh! what would my Lord His-High-Nose say<br /> +When she took off her glove on her wedding-day?<br /> +The fairest princess in Nonsense Land,<br /> +With a broken finger-nail on her hand!<br /> +’Twas a terrible, terrible accident,<br /> +And they called a meeting of parliament;<br /> +And never before that royal Court<br /> +Had come such question of grave import<br /> +As “How could you hurry a nail to grow?”<br /> +And the skill of the kingdom was called to show.<br /> +They sent for Monsieur File-’em-off;<br /> +He smoothed down the corners so ragged and rough.<br /> +They sent for Madame la Diamond-Dust,<br /> +Who lived on the fingers of upper-crust;<br /> +They sent for Professor de Chamois-Skin,<br /> +Who took her powder and rubbed it in;<br /> +They sent for the pudgy nurse Fat-on-the-Bone<br /> +To bathe her finger in eau-de-Cologne;<br /> +And they called the court surgeon, Monsieur Red-Tape,<br /> +To hear what he thought of the new nail’s shape,<br /> +Over the kingdom the telegrams flew<br /> +Which told how the finger-nail thrived and grew;<br /> +And all through the realm of Nonsense Land<br /> +They offered up prayers for the princess’s hand.<br /> +At length the glad tidings were heard with a shout<br /> +What the princess’s finger-nail had grown out:<br /> +Pointed and polished and pink and clean,<br /> +Befitting the hand of a some-day queen.<br /> +Salutes were fired all over the land<br /> +By the home-guard battery pop-gun band;<br /> +And great was the joy of my Lord High-Nose,<br /> +Who straightway ordered his wedding clothes,<br /> +And paid his tailor, Don Wait-for-aye,<br /> +Who died of amazement the self-same day.<br /> +My lord by a jury was judged insane;<br /> +For they said—and the truth of the saying was +plain—<br /> +That a lord of such very high pedigree<br /> +Would never be paying his bills, you see,<br /> +Unless he was out of his head; and so<br /> +They locked him up without more ado.<br /> +And the beautiful Princess Red-as-a-Rose<br /> +Pined for her lover, my Lord High-Nose,<br /> +Till she entered a convent and took the veil—<br /> +And this is the end of my nonsense tale.</p> +<h2>A BABY IN THE HOUSE</h2> +<p>I knew that a baby was hid in the house;<br /> + Though I saw no cradle and heard no cry,<br /> +But the husband went tiptoeing round like a mouse,<br /> + And the good wife was humming a soft lullaby;<br /> +And there was a look on the face of that mother<br /> +That I knew could mean only <i>one</i> thing, and no other.</p> +<p>“The <i>mother</i>,” I said to myself; for I +knew<br /> + That the woman before me was certainly that,<br /> +For there lay in the corner a tiny cloth shoe,<br /> + And I saw on the stand such a wee little hat;<br /> +And the beard of the husband said plain as could be,<br /> +“Two fat, chubby hands have been tugging at me.”</p> +<p>And he took from his pocket a gay picture-book,<br /> + And a dog that would bark if you pulled on a +string;<br /> +And the wife laid them up with such a pleased look;<br /> + And I said to myself, “There is no other +thing<br /> +But a babe that could bring about all this, and so<br /> +That one is in hiding here somewhere, I know.”</p> +<p>I stayed but a moment, and saw nothing more,<br /> + And heard not a sound, yet I knew I was right;<br /> +What else could the shoe mean that lay on the floor,<br /> + The book and the toy, and the faces so bright?<br /> +And what made the husband as still as a mouse?<br /> +I am sure, <i>very</i> sure, there’s a babe in that +house.</p> +<h2>THE FOOLISH ELM</h2> +<p>The bold young Autumn came riding along<br /> + One day where an elm-tree grew.<br /> +“You are fair,” he said, as she bent down her +head,<br /> + “Too fair for your robe’s dull hue.<br +/> +You are far too young for a garb so old;<br /> + Your beauty needs colour and sheen.<br /> +Oh, I would clothe you in scarlet and gold<br /> + Befitting the grace of a queen.</p> +<p>“For one little kiss on your lips, sweet elm,<br /> + For one little kiss, no more,<br /> +I would give you, I swear, a robe more fair<br /> + Than ever a princess wore.<br /> +One little kiss on those lips, my pet,<br /> + And lo! you shall stand, I say,<br /> +Queen of the forest, and, better yet,<br /> + Queen of my heart alway.”</p> +<p>She tossed her head, but he took the kiss—<br /> + ’Tis the way of lovers bold—<br /> +And a gorgeous dress for that sweet caress<br /> + He gave ere the morning was old.<br /> +For a week and a day she ruled a queen<br /> + In beauty and splendid attire;<br /> +For a week and a day she was loved, I ween,<br /> + With the love that is born of desire.</p> +<p>Then bold-eyed Autumn went on his way<br /> + In search of a tree more fair;<br /> +And mob-winds tattered her garments and scattered<br /> + Her finery here and there.<br /> +Poor and faded and ragged and cold<br /> + She rocked in her wild distress,<br /> +And longed for the dull green gown she had sold<br /> + For her fickle lover’s caress.</p> +<p>And the days went by and Winter came,<br /> + And his tyrannous tempests beat<br /> +On the shivering tree, whose robes of flame<br /> + He had trampled under his feet.<br /> +I saw her reach up to the mocking skies<br /> + Her poor arms, bare and thin;<br /> +Ah, well-a-day! it is ever the way<br /> + With a woman who trades with sin.</p> +<h2>ROBIN’S MISTAKE</h2> +<p>What do you think Red Robin<br /> +Found by a mow of hay?<br /> +Why, a flask brimful of liquor,<br /> +That the mowers brought that day<br /> +To slake their thirst in the hayfield.<br /> +And Robin he shook his head:<br /> +“Now I wonder what they call it,<br /> +And how it tastes?” he said.</p> +<p>“I have seen the mowers drink it—<br /> +Why isn’t it good for me?<br /> +So I’ll just draw out the stopper<br /> +And get at the stuff, and see!”<br /> +But alas! for the curious Robin,<br /> +One draught, and he burned his throat<br /> +From his bill to his poor crop’s lining,<br /> +And he could not utter a note.</p> +<p>And his head grew light and dizzy,<br /> +And he staggered left and right,<br /> +Tipped over the flask of brandy,<br /> +And spilled it, every mite.<br /> +But after awhile he sobered,<br /> +And quietly flew away,<br /> +And he never has tasted liquor,<br /> +Or touched it, since that day.</p> +<p>But I heard him say to his kindred,<br /> +In the course of a friendly chat,<br /> +“These men think they are above us,<br /> +Yet they drink such stuff as that!<br /> +Oh, the poor degraded creatures!<br /> +I am glad I am only a bird!”<br /> +Then he flew up over the meadow,<br /> +And that was all I heard.</p> +<h2>NEW YEAR RESOLVE</h2> +<p>As the dead year is clasped by a dead December,<br /> + So let your dead sins with your dead days lie.<br /> +A new life is yours and a new hope. Remember<br /> + We build our own ladders to climb to the sky.</p> +<p>Stand out in the sunlight of promise, forgetting<br /> + Whatever the past held of sorrow and wrong.<br /> +We waste half our strength in a useless regretting;<br /> + We sit by old tombs in the dark too long.</p> +<p>Have you missed in your aim? Well, the mark is still +shining.<br /> + Did you faint in the race? Well, take breath +for the next.<br /> +Did the clouds drive you back? But see yonder their +lining.<br /> + Were you tempted and fell? Let it serve for a +text.</p> +<p>As each year hurries by, let it join that procession<br /> + Of skeleton shapes that march down to the past,<br +/> +While you take your place in the line of progression,<br /> + With your eyes to the heavens, your face to the +blast.</p> +<p>I tell you the future can hold no terrors<br /> + For any sad soul while the stars revolve,<br /> +If he will stand firm on the grave of his errors,<br /> + And instead of regretting—resolve, +resolve!</p> +<p>It is never too late to begin rebuilding,<br /> + Though all into ruins your life seems hurled;<br /> +For see! how the light of the New Year is gilding<br /> + The wan, worn face of the bruised old world.</p> +<h2>WHAT WE WANT</h2> +<p>All hail the dawn of a new day breaking,<br /> +When a strong-armed nation shall take away<br /> +The weary burdens from backs that are aching<br /> +With maximum labour and minimum pay;<br /> +When no man is honoured who hoards his millions;<br /> +When no man feasts on another’s toil;<br /> +And God’s poor suffering, striving billions<br /> +Shall share His riches of sun and soil.</p> +<p>There is gold for all in the earth’s broad bosom,<br /> +There is food for all in the land’s great store;<br /> +Enough is provided if rightly divided;<br /> +Let each man take what he needs—no more.<br /> +Shame on the miser with unused riches,<br /> +Who robs the toiler to swell his hoard,<br /> +Who beats down the wage of the digger of ditches,<br /> +And steals the bread from the poor man’s board.</p> +<p>Shame on the owner of mines whose cruel<br /> +And selfish measures have brought him wealth,<br /> +While the ragged wretches who dig his fuel<br /> +Are robbed of comfort and hope and health.<br /> +Shame on the ruler who rides in his carriage<br /> +Bought with the labour of half-paid men—<br /> +Men who are shut out of home and marriage<br /> +And are herded like sheep in a hovel-pen.</p> +<p>Let the clarion voice of the nation wake him<br /> +To broader vision and fairer play;<br /> +Or let the hand of a just law shake him<br /> +Till his ill-gained dollars shall roll away.<br /> +Let no man dwell under a mountain of plunder,<br /> +Let no man suffer with want and cold;<br /> +We want right living, not mere alms-giving;<br /> +We want just dividing of labour and gold.</p> +<h2>BREAKING THE DAY IN TWO</h2> +<p>When from dawn till noon seems one long day,<br /> + And from noon till night another,<br /> +Oh, then should a little boy come from play,<br /> + And creep into the arms of his mother.<br /> +Snugly creep and fall asleep,<br /> + Oh, come, my baby, do;<br /> +Creep into my lap, and with a nap<br /> + We’ll break the day in two.</p> +<p>When the shadows slant for afternoon,<br /> + When the midday meal is over,<br /> +When the winds have sung themselves into a swoon,<br /> + And the bees drone in the clover,<br /> +Then hie to me, hie, for a lullaby—<br /> + Come, my baby, do;<br /> +Creep into my lap, and with a nap<br /> + We’ll break the day in two.</p> +<p>We’ll break it in two with a crooning song,<br /> + With a soft and soothing number;<br /> +For the day has no right to be so long<br /> + And keep my baby from slumber.<br /> +Then rock-a-by, rock, may white dreams flock<br /> + Like angels over you;<br /> +Baby’s gone, and the deed is done,<br /> + We’ve broken the day in two.</p> +<h2>THE RAPE OF THE MIST</h2> +<p>High o’er the clouds a Sunbeam shone,<br /> + And far down under him,<br /> +With a subtle grace that was all her own,<br /> + The Mist gleamed, fair and dim.</p> +<p>He looked at her with his burning eyes<br /> + And longed to fall at her feet;<br /> +Of all sweet things there under the skies,<br /> + He thought her the thing most sweet.</p> +<p>He had wooed oft, as a Sunbeam may,<br /> + Wave, and blossom, and flower;<br /> +But never before had he felt the sway<br /> + Of a great love’s mighty power.</p> +<p>Tall cloud-mountains and vast space-seas,<br /> + Wind, and tempest, and fire—<br /> +What are obstacles such as these<br /> + To a heart that is filled with desire?</p> +<p>Boldly he trod over cloud and star,<br /> + Boldly he swam through space,<br /> +She caught the glow of his eyes afar<br /> + And veiled her delicate face.</p> +<p>He was so strong and he was so bright,<br /> + And his breath was a breath of flame;<br /> +The Mist grew pale with a vague, strange fright,<br /> + As fond, yet fierce, he came.</p> +<p>Close to his heart she was clasped and kissed;<br /> + She swooned in love’s alarms,<br /> +And dead lay the beautiful pale-faced Mist<br /> + In the Sunbeam’s passionate arms.</p> +<h2>THE TWO GLASSES</h2> +<p>There sat two glasses, filled to the brim,<br /> +On a rich man’s table, rim to rim.<br /> +One was ruddy and red as blood,<br /> +And one was as clear as the crystal flood.</p> +<p>Said the glass of wine to his paler brother:<br /> +“Let us tell tales of the past to each other.<br /> +I can tell of banquet, and revel, and mirth,<br /> +Where I was king, for I ruled in might;<br /> +And the proudest and grandest souls on earth<br /> +Fell under my touch, as though struck with blight.<br /> +From the heads of kings I have torn the crown;<br /> +From the heights of fame I have hurled men down;<br /> +I have blasted many an honoured name;<br /> +I have taken virtue and given shame;<br /> +I have tempted the youth, with a sip, a taste,<br /> +That has made his future a barren waste.<br /> +Far greater than any king am I,<br /> +Or than any army under the sky.<br /> +I have made the arm of the driver fail,<br /> +And sent the train from its iron rail.<br /> +I have made good ships go down at sea,<br /> +And the shrieks of the lost were sweet to me.<br /> +Fame, strength, wealth, genius, before me fall,<br /> +And my might and power are over all.<br /> +Ho! ho! pale brother,” laughed the wine,<br /> +“Can you boast of deeds as great as mine?”</p> +<p>Said the glass of water: “I cannot boast<br /> +Of a king dethroned or a murdered host;<br /> +But I can tell of hearts that were sad,<br /> +By my crystal drops made light and glad;<br /> +Of thirsts I have quenched, and brows I have laved;<br /> +Of hands I have cooled and souls I have saved.<br /> +I have leaped through the valley and dashed down the mountain;<br +/> +Slept in the sunshine and dripped from the fountain.<br /> +I have burst my cloud-fetters and dropped from the sky,<br /> +And everywhere gladdened the landscape and eye.<br /> +I have eased the hot forehead of fever and pain;<br /> +I have made the parched meadows grow fertile with grain;<br /> +I can tell of the powerful wheel o’ the mill,<br /> +That ground out the flour and turned at my will;<br /> +I can tell of manhood, debased by you,<br /> +That I have uplifted and crowned anew.<br /> +I cheer, I help, I strengthen and aid,<br /> +I gladden the heart of man and maid;<br /> +I set the chained wine-captive free,<br /> +And all are better for knowing me.”</p> +<p>These are the tales they told each other,<br /> +The glass of wine and its paler brother,<br /> +As they sat together, filled to the brim,<br /> +On the rich man’s table, rim to rim.</p> +<h2>THE MANIAC</h2> +<p>I saw them sitting in the shade;<br /> + The long green vines hung over,<br /> +But could not hide the gold-haired maid<br /> + And Earl, my dark-eyed lover.<br /> +His arm was clasped so close, so close,<br /> + Her eyes were softly lifted,<br /> +While his eyes drank the cheek of rose<br /> + And breasts like snowflakes drifted.</p> +<p>A strange noise sounded in my brain;<br /> + I was a guest unbidden.<br /> +I stole away, but came again<br /> + With two knives snugly hidden.<br /> +I stood behind them. Close they kissed,<br /> + While eye to eye was speaking;<br /> +I aimed my steels, and neither missed<br /> + The heart I sent it seeking.</p> +<p>There were two death-shrieks mingled so<br /> + It seemed like one voice crying,<br /> +I laughed—it was such bliss, you know,<br /> + To hear and see them dying.<br /> +I laughed and shouted while I stood<br /> + Above the lovers, gazing<br /> +Upon the trickling rills of blood<br /> + And frightened eyes fast glazing.</p> +<p>It was such joy to see the rose<br /> + Fade from her cheek for ever;<br /> +To know the lips he kissed so close<br /> + Could answer never, never.<br /> +To see his arm grow stark and cold,<br /> + And know it could not hold her;<br /> +To know that while the world grew old<br /> + His eyes could not behold her.</p> +<p>A crowd of people thronged about,<br /> + Brought thither by my laughter;<br /> +I gave one last triumphant shout—<br /> + Then darkness followed after.<br /> +That was a thousand years ago;<br /> + Each hour I live it over,<br /> +For there, just out of reach, you know,<br /> + <i>She</i> lies, with Earl, my lover.</p> +<p>They lie there, staring, staring so<br /> + With great, glazed eyes to taunt me.<br /> +Will no one bury them down low,<br /> + Where they shall cease to haunt me?<br /> +He kissed her lips, not mine; the flowers<br /> + And vines hung all about them.<br /> +Sometimes I sit and laugh for hours<br /> + To think just how I found them.</p> +<p>And then I sometimes stand and shriek<br /> + In agony of terror:<br /> +I see the red warm in her cheek,<br /> + Then laugh loud at my error.<br /> +My cheek was all too pale, he thought;<br /> + He deemed hers far the brightest.<br /> +Ha! but my dagger touched a spot<br /> + That made <i>her</i> face the whitest!</p> +<p>But oh! the days seem very long,<br /> + Without my Earl, my lover;<br /> +And something in my head seems wrong<br /> + The more I think it over.<br /> +Ah! look—she is not dead—look there!<br /> + She’s standing close beside me!<br /> +Her eyes are open—how they stare!<br /> + Oh, hide me! hide me! hide me!</p> +<h2>WHAT IS FLIRTATION?</h2> +<p>What is flirtation? Really,<br /> + How can I tell you that?<br /> +But when she smiles I see its wiles,<br /> + And when he lifts his hat.</p> +<p>’Tis walking in the moonlight,<br /> + ’Tis buttoning on a glove,<br /> +’Tis lips that speak of plays next week,<br /> + While eyes are talking love.</p> +<p>’Tis meeting in the ball-room,<br /> + ’Tis whirling in the dance;<br /> +’Tis something hid beneath the lid<br /> + More than a simple glance.</p> +<p>’Tis lingering in the hallway,<br /> + ’Tis sitting on the stair,<br /> +’Tis bearded lips on finger-tips,<br /> + If mamma isn’t there.</p> +<p>’Tis tucking in the carriage,<br /> + ’Tis asking for a call;<br /> +’Tis long good-nights in tender lights,<br /> + And that is—no, not all!</p> +<p>’Tis parting when it’s over,<br /> + And one goes home to sleep;<br /> +Best joys must end, tra la, my friend,<br /> + But one goes home to weep!</p> +<h2>HUSBAND AND WIFE</h2> +<p>Reach out your arms, and hold me close and fast,<br /> +Tell me you have no memories of your past<br /> +That mar this love of ours, so great, so vast.</p> +<p>Some truths are cheapened when too oft averred—<br /> +Does not the deed speak louder than the word?<br /> +(<i>Dear Christ</i>! <i>that old dream woke again and +stirred</i>.)</p> +<p>As you love me, you never loved before?<br /> +Though oft you say it—say it yet once more;<br /> +My heart is jealous of those days of yore.</p> +<p>Sweet wife, dear comrade, mother of my child,<br /> +My life is yours, by memory undefiled.<br /> +(<i>It stirs again</i>, <i>that passion brief and wild</i>.)</p> +<p>You never knew such happy hours as this,<br /> +We two alone, our hearts surcharged with bliss,<br /> +Nor other kisses sweet as my own kiss?</p> +<p>I was the thirsty field, long parched with drouth,<br /> +You were the warm rain blowing from the South.<br /> +(<i>But oh</i>! <i>the crimson madness of her mouth</i>.)</p> +<p>You would not, if you could, go down life’s track<br /> +For just one little moment, and bring back<br /> +Some vanished raptures that you miss or lack?</p> +<p>I am content. You are my life, my all.<br /> +(<i>One burning hour</i>, <i>but one</i>, <i>could I +recall</i>.<br /> +<i>God</i>! <i>how men lie</i>, <i>when driven to the +wall</i>!)</p> +<h2>HOW DOES LOVE SPEAK?</h2> +<p> How does Love speak?<br /> +In the faint flush upon the tell-tale cheek,<br /> +And in the pallor that succeeds it; by<br /> +The quivering lid of an averted eye—<br /> +The smile that proves the parent of a sigh:<br /> + Thus doth Love speak.</p> +<p> How does Love speak?<br /> +By the uneven heart-throbs, and the freak<br /> +Of bounding pulses that stand still and ache<br /> +While new emotions, like strange barges, make<br /> +Along vein-channels their disturbing course,<br /> +Still as the dawn, and with the dawn’s swift force:<br /> + Thus doth Love speak.</p> +<p> How does Love speak?<br /> +In the avoidance of that which we seek<br /> +The sudden silence and reserve when near;<br /> +The eye that glistens with an unshed tear;<br /> +The joy that seems the counterpart of fear,<br /> +As the alarmèd heart leads in the breast,<br /> +And knows, and names, and greets its godlike guest:<br /> + Thus doth Love speak.</p> +<p> How does Love speak?<br /> +In the proud spirit suddenly grown meek,<br /> +The haughty heart grown humble; in the tender<br /> +And unnamed light that floods the world with splendour;<br /> +In the resemblance which the fond eyes trace<br /> +In all fair things to one belovèd face;<br /> +In the shy touch of hands that thrill and tremble;<br /> +In looks and lips that can no more dissemble:<br /> + Thus doth Love speak.</p> +<p> How does Love speak?<br /> +In wild words that uttered seem so weak<br /> +They shrink ashamed to silence; in the fire<br /> +Glance strikes with glance, swift flashing high and higher,<br /> +Like lightnings that precede the mighty storm<br /> +In the deep, soulful stillness; in the warm,<br /> +Impassioned tide that sweeps thro’ throbbing veins,<br /> +Between the shores of keen delights and pains;<br /> +In the embrace where madness melts in bliss,<br /> +And in the convulsive rapture of a kiss:<br /> + Thus doth Love speak.</p> +<h2>REINCARNATION</h2> +<p>He slept as weary toilers do,<br /> + She gazed up at the moon.<br /> +He stirred and said, “Wife, come to bed”;<br /> + She answered, “Soon, full soon.”<br /> +(Oh! that strange mystery of the dead moon’s face.)</p> +<p>Her cheek was wan, her wistful mouth<br /> + Was lifted like a cup,<br /> +The moonful night dripped liquid light:<br /> + She seemed to quaff it up.<br /> +(Oh! that unburied corpse that lies in space.)</p> +<p>Her life had held but drudgery—<br /> + She spelled her Bible thro’;<br /> +Of books and lore she knew no more<br /> + Than little children do.<br /> +(Oh! the weird wonder of that pallid sphere.)</p> +<p>Her youth had been a loveless waste,<br /> + Starred by no holiday.<br /> +And she had wed for roof, and bread;<br /> + She gave her work in pay.<br /> +(Oh! the moon-memories, vague and strange and dear.)</p> +<p>She drank the night’s insidious wine,<br /> + And saw another scene:<br /> +A stately room—rare flowers in bloom,<br /> + Herself in silken sheen.<br /> +(Oh! vast the chambers of the moon, and wide.)</p> +<p>A step drew near, a curtain stirred;<br /> + She shook with sweet alarms.<br /> +Oh! splendid face; oh! manly grace;<br /> + Oh! strong impassioned arms.<br /> +(Oh! silent moon, what secrets do you hide!)</p> +<p>The warm red lips of thirsting love<br /> + On cheek and brow were pressed;<br /> +As the bees know where honeys grow,<br /> + They sought her mouth, her breast.<br /> +(Oh! the dead moon holds many a dead delight.)</p> +<p>The speaker stirred and gruffly spake,<br /> + “Come, wife, where have you been?”<br /> +She whispered low, “Dear God, I go—<br /> + But ’tis the seventh sin.”<br /> +(Oh! the sad secrets of that orb of white.)</p> +<h2>AS YOU GO THROUGH LIFE</h2> +<p>Don’t look for the flaws as you go through life;<br /> + And even when you find them,<br /> +It is wise and kind to be somewhat blind<br /> + And look for the virtue behind them.<br /> +For the cloudiest night has a hint of light<br /> + Somewhere in its shadows hiding;<br /> +It is better by far to hunt for a star,<br /> + Than the spots on the sun abiding.</p> +<p>The current of life runs ever away<br /> + To the bosom of God’s great ocean.<br /> +Don’t set your force ’gainst the river’s +course<br /> + And think to alter its motion.<br /> +Don’t waste a curse on the universe—<br /> + Remember it lived before you.<br /> +Don’t butt at the storm with your puny form,<br /> + But bend and let it go o’er you.</p> +<p>The world will never adjust itself<br /> + To suit your whims to the letter.<br /> +Some things must go wrong your whole life long,<br /> + And the sooner you know it the better.<br /> +It is folly to fight with the Infinite,<br /> + And go under at last in the wrestle;<br /> +The wiser man shapes into God’s plan<br /> + As water shapes into a vessel.</p> +<h2>HOW SALVATOR WON</h2> +<p>The gate was thrown open, I rode out alone,<br /> +More proud than a monarch who sits on a throne.<br /> +I am but a jockey, yet shout upon shout<br /> +Went up from the people who watched me ride out;<br /> +And the cheers that rang forth from that warm-hearted crowd,<br +/> +Were as earnest as those to which monarch e’er bowed.</p> +<p>My heart thrilled with pleasure so keen it was pain<br /> +As I patted my Salvator’s soft silken mane;<br /> +And a sweet shiver shot from his hide to my hand<br /> +As we passed by the multitude down to the stand.</p> +<p>The great waves of cheering came billowing back,<br /> +As the hoofs of brave Tenny rang swift down the track;<br /> +And he stood there beside us, all bone and all muscle,<br /> +Our noble opponent, well trained for the tussle<br /> +That waited us there on the smooth, shining course.<br /> +My Salvator, fair to the lovers of horse,<br /> +As a beautiful woman is fair to man’s sight—<br /> +Pure type of the thoroughbred, clean-limbed and bright,—<br +/> +Stood taking the plaudits as only his due,<br /> +And nothing at all unexpected or new.</p> +<p>And then, there before us the bright flag is spread,<br /> +There’s a roar from the grand stand, and Tenny’s +ahead;<br /> +At the sound of the voices that shouted “a go!”<br /> +He sprang like an arrow shot straight from the bow.<br /> +I tighten the reins on Prince Charlie’s great son—<br +/> +He is off like a rocket, the race is begun.<br /> +Half-way down the furlong, their heads are together,<br /> +Scarce room ’twixt their noses to wedge in a feather;<br /> +Past grand stand, and judges, in neck-to-neck strife,<br /> +Ah, Salvator, boy! ’tis the race of your life.<br /> +I press my knees closer, I coax him, I urge,<br /> +I feel him go out with a leap and a surge;<br /> +I see him creep on, inch by inch, stride by stride,<br /> +While backward, still backward, falls Tenny beside.<br /> +We are nearing the turn, the first quarter is past—<br /> +’Twixt leader and chaser the daylight is cast.<br /> +The distance elongates, still Tenny sweeps on,<br /> +As graceful and free-limbed and swift as a fawn;<br /> +His awkwardness vanished, his muscles all strained—<br /> +A noble opponent, well born and well trained.<br /> +I glanced o’er my shoulder, ha! Tenny, the cost<br /> +Of that one’s second flagging, will be—the race +lost.<br /> +One second’s weak yielding of courage and strength,<br /> +And the daylight between us has doubled its length.</p> +<p>The first mile is covered, the race is mine—no!<br /> +For the blue blood of Tenny responds to a blow.<br /> +He shoots through the air like a ball from a gun,<br /> +And the two lengths between us are shortened to one,<br /> +My heart is contracted, my throat feels a lump,<br /> +For Tenny’s long neck is at Salvator’s rump;<br /> +And now with new courage grown bolder and bolder,<br /> +I see him, once more running shoulder to shoulder.<br /> +With knees, hands, and body I press my grand steed<br /> +I urge him, I coax him, I pray him to heed!<br /> +Oh, Salvator! Salvator! list to my calls,<br /> +For the blow of my whip will hurt both if it falls.<br /> +There’s a roar from the crowd like the ocean in storm<br /> +As close to my saddle leaps Tenny’s great form:</p> +<p>One more mighty plunge, and with knee, limb, and hand,<br /> +I lift my horse first by a nose past the stand.<br /> +We are under the string now—the great race is done,<br /> +And Salvator, Salvator, Salvator won!<br /> +Cheer, hoar-headed patriarchs; cheer loud, I say.<br /> +’Tis the race of a century witnessed to-day!<br /> +Though ye live twice the space that’s allotted to men,<br +/> +Ye never will see such a grand race again.<br /> +Let the shouts of the populace roar like the surf<br /> +For Salvator, Salvator, king of the turf!<br /> +He has broken the record of thirteen long years;<br /> +He has won the first place in a vast line of peers.<br /> +’Twas a neck-to-neck contest, a grand, honest race,<br /> +And even his enemies grant him his place.<br /> +Down into the dust let old records be hurled,<br /> +And hang out 2.05 in the gaze of the world.</p> +<h2>THE WATCHER</h2> +<p>“I think I hear the sound of horses feet<br /> + Beating upon the gravelled avenue.<br /> +Go to the window that looks on the street,<br /> + He would not let me die alone, I knew.”<br /> +Back to the couch the patient watcher passed,<br /> +And said: “It is the wailing of the blast.”</p> +<p>She turned upon her couch and, seeming, slept,<br /> + The long, dark lashes shadowing her cheek;<br /> +And on and on the weary moments crept,<br /> + When suddenly the watcher heard her speak:<br /> +“I think I hear the sound of horses’ +hoofs—”<br /> +And answered, “’Tis the rain upon the +roofs.”</p> +<p>Unbroken silence, quiet, deep, profound.<br /> + The restless sleeper turns: “How dark, how +late!<br /> +What is it that I hear—a trampling sound?<br /> + I think there is a horseman at the gate.”<br +/> +The watcher turns away her eyes tear-blind:<br /> +“It is the shutter beating in the wind.”</p> +<p>The dread hours passed; the patient clock ticked on;<br /> + The weary watcher moved not from her place.<br /> +The grey dim shadows of the early dawn<br /> + Caught sudden glory from the sleeper’s +face.<br /> +“He comes! my love! I knew he would!” she +cried;<br /> +And, smiling sweetly in her slumbers, died.</p> +<h2>HOW WILL IT BE?</h2> +<p>How will it be when one of us alone<br /> + Goes on that strange last journey of the soul?<br /> +That certain search for an uncertain goal,<br /> + That voyage on which no comradeship is known?<br /> +Will our dear sea sing with the old sweet tone,<br /> + Though one sits stricken where its billows roll?<br +/> +Will space be dumb, or from the mystic pole<br /> + Will spirit-messages be backward blown?<br /> +When our united lives are wrenched apart,<br /> + And day no more means fond companionship,<br /> +When fervent night, and lovely languorous dawn,<br /> + Are only memories to one sad heart,<br /> +And but in dreams love-kisses burn the lip,—<br /> + Dear God, how can this same fair world move on?</p> +<h2>MEMORY’S RIVER</h2> +<p>In Nature’s bright blossoms not always reposes<br /> + That strange subtle essence more rare than their +bloom,<br /> +Which lies in the hearts of carnations and roses,<br /> + That unexplained something by men called perfume.<br +/> +Though modest the flower, yet great is its power<br /> + And pregnant with meaning each pistil and leaf,<br +/> +If only it hides there, if only abides there,<br /> + The fragrance suggestive of love, joy, and +grief.</p> +<p>Not always the air that a master composes<br /> + Can stir human heart-strings with pleasure or +pain.<br /> +But strange, subtle chords, like the scent of the roses,<br /> + Breathe out of some measures, though simple the +strain.<br /> +And lo! when you hear them, you love them and fear them,<br /> + You tremble with anguish, you thrill with +delight,<br /> +For back of them slumber old dreams without number,<br /> + And faces long vanished peer out into sight.</p> +<p>Those dear foolish days when the earth seemed all beauty,<br +/> + Before you had knowledge enough to be sad;<br /> +When youth held no higher ideal of duty<br /> + Than just to lilt on through the world and be +glad.<br /> +On harmony’s river they seemed to afloat hither<br /> + With all the sweet fancies that hung round that +time—<br /> +Life’s burdens and troubles turn into air-bubbles<br /> + And break on the music’s swift current of +rhyme.</p> +<p>Fair Folly comes back with her spell while you listen<br /> + And points to the paths where she led you of old.<br +/> +You gaze on past sunsets, you see dead stars glisten,<br /> + You bathe in life’s glory, you swoon in +death’s cold.<br /> +All pains and all pleasures surge up through those measures,<br +/> + Your heart is wrenched open with earthquakes of +sound;<br /> +From ashes and embers rise Junes and Decembers,<br /> + Lost islands in fathoms of feeling refound.</p> +<p>Some airs are like outlets of memory’s oceans,<br /> + They rise in the past and flow into the heart;<br /> +And down them float shipwrecks of mighty emotions,<br /> + All sea-soaked and storm-tossed and drifting +apart:<br /> +Their fair timbers battered, their lordly sails tattered,<br /> + Their skeleton crew of dead days on their decks;<br +/> +Then a crash of chords blending, a crisis, an ending—<br /> + The music is over, and vanished the wrecks.</p> +<h2>LOVE’S WAY</h2> +<p>Love gives us copious potions of delight,<br /> + Of pain and ecstasy, and peace and care;<br /> +Love leads us upward, to the mountain height,<br /> + And, like an angel, stands beside us there;<br /> +Then thrusts us, demon-like, in some abyss:<br /> + Where, in the darkness of despair, we grope,<br /> +Till, suddenly, Love greets us with a kiss<br /> + And guides us back to flowery fields of hope.</p> +<p>Love makes all wisdom seem but poorest folly,<br /> + And yet the simplest mind with Love grows wise,<br +/> +The gayest heart he teaches melancholy,<br /> + Yet glorifies the erstwhile brooding eyes.<br /> +Love lives on change, and yet at change Love mocks,<br /> + For Love’s whole life is one great +paradox.</p> +<h2>A MAN’S LAST LOVE</h2> +<p>Like the tenth wave, that offers to the shore<br /> +Accumulated opulence and force,<br /> +So does my heart, which thought it loved of yore,<br /> + Carry increasing passion down the course<br /> +Of time to proffer thee.<br /> + Oh! not the +faint<br /> + First ripple of the sea should be its pride,<br /> +But the great climax of its unrestraint,<br /> + Which culminates in one commanding tide.</p> +<p>The lesser billows of each crude emotion<br /> + Break on life’s strand, recede, and then +unite<br /> +With love’s large sea; and to some late devotion<br /> + Unrecognised, they bring their lost delight.<br /> +So all the vanished fancies of my past<br /> +Live yet in this one passion, grand and vast.</p> +<h2>THE LADY AND THE DAME</h2> +<p>So thou hast the art, good dame, thou swearest,<br /> + To keep Time’s perishing touch at bay<br /> +From the roseate splendour of the cheek so tender,<br /> + And the silver threads from the gold away;<br /> +And the tell-tale years that have hurried by us<br /> + Shall tiptoe back, and, with kind good-will,<br /> +They shall take their traces from off our faces,<br /> + If we will trust to thy magic skill.</p> +<p>Thou speakest fairly; but if I listen<br /> + And buy thy secret and prove its truth,<br /> +Hast thou the potion and magic lotion<br /> + To give me also the <i>heart</i> of youth?<br /> +With the cheek of rose and the eye of beauty,<br /> + And the lustrous locks of life’s lost +prime,<br /> +Wilt thou bring thronging each hope and longing<br /> + That made the glory of that dead Time?</p> +<p>When the sap in the trees sets young buds bursting,<br /> + And the song of the birds fills the air like +spray,<br /> +Will rivers of feeling come once more stealing<br /> + From the beautiful hills of the far-away?<br /> +Wilt thou demolish the tower of reason<br /> + And fling for ever down into the dust<br /> +The caution Time brought me, the lessons life taught me,<br /> + And put in their places my old sweet trust?</p> +<p>If Time’s footprint from my brow is driven,<br /> + Canst thou, too, take with thy subtle powers<br /> +The burden of thinking, and let me go drinking<br /> + The careless pleasures of youth’s bright +hours?<br /> +If silver threads from my tresses vanish,<br /> + If a glow once more in my pale cheek gleams,<br /> +Wilt thou slay duty and give back the beauty<br /> + Of days untroubled by aught but dreams?</p> +<p>When the soft, fair arms of the siren Summer<br /> + Encircle the earth in their languorous fold.<br /> +Will vast, deep oceans of sweet emotions<br /> + Surge through my veins as they surged of old?<br /> +Canst thou bring back from a day long vanished<br /> + The leaping pulse and the boundless aim?<br /> +I will pay thee double for all thy trouble,<br /> + If thou wilt restore all these, good dame.</p> +<h2>CONFESSION</h2> +<h3>I</h3> +<p>How shall a maid make answer to a man<br /> +Who summons her, by love’s supreme decree,<br /> +To open her whole heart, that he may see<br /> +The intricate strange ways that love began.<br /> +So many streams from that great fountain ran<br /> +To feed the river that now rushes free,<br /> +So deep the heart, so full of mystery;<br /> +How shall a maid make answer to a man?</p> +<p>If I turn back each leaflet of my heart,<br /> +And let your eyes scan all the records there,<br /> +Of dreams of love that came before I <span +class="smcap">knew</span>,<br /> +Though in those dreams you had no place or part,<br /> +Yet, know that each emotion was a stair<br /> +Which led my ripening womanhood to <span +class="smcap">you</span>.</p> +<h3>II</h3> +<p>Nay, I was not insensate till you came;<br /> +I know man likes to think a woman clay,<br /> +Devoid of feeling till the warming ray<br /> +Sent from his heart lights her with sudden flame.<br /> +You asked for truth; I answer without shame;<br /> +My human heart pulsed blood by night and day,<br /> +And I believed that Love had come my way<br /> +Before he conquered with your face and name.</p> +<p>I do not know when first I felt this fire<br /> +That lends such lustre to my hopes and fears,<br /> +And burns a pathway to you with each thought.<br /> +I think in that great hour when God’s desire<br /> +For worlds to love flung forth a million spheres,<br /> +This miracle of love in me was wrought.</p> +<p>An open door, a moonlit sky,<br /> +A child-like maid with musing eye,<br /> +A manly footstep passing by.</p> +<p>Light as a dewdrop falls from space<br /> +Upon a rosebud’s folded grace,<br /> +A kiss fell on her girlish face.</p> +<p>“Good-night, good-bye,” and he was gone.<br /> +And so was childhood; it was dawn<br /> +In that young heart the moon shone on.</p> +<p>His name? his face? dim memories;<br /> +I only know in that first kiss<br /> +Was prophesied this later bliss.</p> +<p>The dreams within my bosom grew;<br /> +Nay, grieve not that my tale is true,<br /> +Since all those dreams led straight to you.</p> +<p>One time when Autumn donned her robes of splendour<br /> +And rustled down the year’s receding track,<br /> +As I passed dreaming by, a voice all tender<br /> +Haled me with youth’s soft call to linger back.<br /> +I turned and listened to a golden story!<br /> +A wondrous tale, half human, half divine—<br /> +A page from bright September’s book of glory,<br /> +To memorise and make forever mine.<br /> +Strange argosies from passion’s unknown oceans<br /> +Cruised down my veins, a vague elusive fleet,<br /> +With foreign cargoes of unnamed emotions,<br /> +While wafts of song blew shoreward, dim and sweet,<br /> +And sleeping still (because unwaked by you)<br /> +I dreamed and dreamed, and thought my visions true.<br /> +I woke when all the crimson colour faded<br /> +And wanton Autumn’s lips and cheeks were pale;<br /> +And when the sorrowing year had slowly waded,<br /> +With failing footsteps, through the snow-filled vale.<br /> +I woke and knew the glamour of a season<br /> +Had lent illusive lustre to a dream,<br /> +And looking in the clear calm eyes of Reason,<br /> +I smiled and said, “Farewell to things that seem.”<br +/> +’Twas but a red leaf from a lush September<br /> +The wind of dreams across my pathway blew,<br /> +But oh! my love! the whole round year remember,<br /> +With all its seasons I bestow on you.<br /> +The red leaf perished in the first cold blast<br /> +The full year’s harvests at your feet I cast.</p> +<h3>L’ENVOI</h3> +<p>Absolve me, prince; confession is all over.<br /> +But listen and take warning, oh! my lover.<br /> +You put to rout all dreams that may have been;<br /> +You won the day, but ’tis not all to win;<br /> +<span class="smcap">Guard well the fort</span>, <span +class="smcap">lest new dreams enter in</span>.</p> +<h2>A MARRIED COQUETTE</h2> +<p>Sit still, I say, and dispense with heroics!<br /> + I hurt your wrists? Well, you have hurt me.<br +/> +It is time you found out that all men are not stoics,<br /> + Nor toys to be used as your mood may be.<br /> +<i>I will not</i> let go of your hands, nor leave you<br /> + Until I have spoken. No man, you say,<br /> +Dared ever so treat you before? I believe you,<br /> + For you have dealt only with <i>boys</i> till +to-day.</p> +<p>You women lay stress on your fine perception,<br /> + Your intuitions are prated about;<br /> +You claim an occult sort of conception<br /> + Of matters which men must reason out.<br /> +So then, of course, when you ask me kindly<br /> + “To call again soon,” you read my +heart.<br /> +I cannot believe you were acting blindly;<br /> + You saw my passion for you from the start.</p> +<p>You are one of those women who charm without trying;<br /> + The clay you are made of is magnet ore,<br /> +And I am the steel; yet, there’s no denying<br /> + You led me to loving you more and more.<br /> +You are fanning a flame that may burn too brightly,<br /> + Oft easily kindled, but hard to put out;<br /> +I am not a man to be played with lightly,<br /> + To come at a gesture and go at a pout.</p> +<p>A brute you call me, a creature inhuman;<br /> + You say I insult you, and bid me go.<br /> +And you? Oh, you are a saintly woman,<br /> + With thoughts as pure as the drifted snow.<br /> +Pah! you are but one of a thousand beauties<br /> + Who think they are living exemplary lives:<br /> +They break no commandments, and do all their duties<br /> + As Christian women and spotless wives.</p> +<p>But with drooping of lids, and lifting of faces,<br /> + And baring of shoulders, and well-timed sighs,<br /> +And the devil knows what other subtle graces,<br /> + You are mental wantons, who sin with the eyes.<br /> +You lure love to wake, yet bid it keep under,<br /> + You tempt us to fall, but bid reason control;<br /> +And then you are full of an outraged wonder<br /> + When we get to wanting you, body and soul.</p> +<p>Why, look at yourself! You were no stranger<br /> + To the fact that my heart was already on fire.<br /> +When you asked me to call you knew my danger,<br /> + Yet here you are, dressed in the gown I admire;<br +/> +For half of the evil on earth is invented<br /> + By vain, pretty women with nothing to do<br /> +But to keep themselves manicured, powdered, and scented,<br /> + And seek for sensations amusing and new.</p> +<p>But when I play at love at a lady’s commanding,<br /> + I always am certain to win one game;<br /> +So there—there—there! I will leave my +branding<br /> + On the lips that are free now to cry “Shame, +shame!”<br /> +You hate me? Quite likely! It does not surprise +me,<br /> + Brute force? I confess it; <i>but still you +were kissed</i>;<br /> +And one thing is certain—you cannot despise me<br /> + For having been played with, controlled, and +dismissed.</p> +<p>And the next time you see that a man is attracted<br /> + By the beauty and graces that are not for him,<br /> +Don’t lead him on to be half distracted;<br /> + Keep out of deep waters although you can swim.<br /> +For when he is caught in the whirlpool of passion,<br /> + Where many bold swimmers are seen to drown,<br /> +A man will reach out and, in desperate fashion,<br /> + Will drag whoever is nearest him down.</p> +<p>Though the strings of his heart may be wrenched and riven<br +/> + By a maiden coquette who has led him along,<br /> +She can be pardoned, excused, and forgiven,<br /> + For innocence blindfolded walks into wrong.<br /> +But she who has willingly taken the fetter<br /> + That Cupid forges at Hymen’s command—<br +/> +Well, she is the woman who ought to know better;<br /> + She needs no mercy at any man’s hand.</p> +<p>In the game of hearts, though a woman be winner,<br /> + The odds are ever against her, you know;<br /> +The world is ready to call her a sinner,<br /> + And man is ready to make her so.<br /> +Shame is likely, and sorrow is certain,<br /> + And the man has the best of it, end as it may.<br /> +So now, my lady, we’ll drop the curtain,<br /> + And put out the lights. We are through with +our play.</p> +<h2>FORBIDDEN SPEECH</h2> +<p>The passion you forbade my lips to utter<br /> + Will not be silenced. You must hear it in<br +/> +The sullen thunders when they roll and mutter:<br /> + And when the tempest nears, with wail and din,<br /> +I know your calm forgetfulness is broken,<br /> +And to your heart you whisper, “He has spoken.”</p> +<p>All nature understands and sympathises<br /> + With human passion. When the restless sea<br +/> +Turns in its futile search for peace, and rises<br /> + To plead and to pursue, it pleads for me.<br /> +And with each desperate billow’s anguished fretting.<br /> +Your heart must tell you, “He is not forgetting.”</p> +<p>When unseen hands in lightning strokes are writing<br /> + Mysterious words upon a cloudy scroll,<br /> +Know that my pent-up passion is inditing<br /> + A cypher message for your woman’s soul;<br /> +And when the lawless winds rush by you shrieking,<br /> +Let your heart say, “Now his despair is +speaking.”</p> +<p>Love comes, nor goes, at beck or call of reason,<br /> + Nor is love silent—though it says no word;<br +/> +By day or night, in any clime or season,<br /> + A dominating passion must be heard.<br /> +So shall you hear, through Junes and through Decembers,<br /> +The voice of Nature saying, “He remembers.”</p> +<h2>THE SUMMER GIRL</h2> +<p>She’s the jauntiest of creatures, she’s the +daintiest of misses,<br /> +With her pretty patent leathers or her alligator ties,<br /> +With her eyes inviting glances and her lips inviting kisses,<br +/> +As she wanders by the ocean or strolls under country skies.</p> +<p>She’s a captivating dresser, and her parasols are +stunning;<br /> +Her fads will take your breath away, her hats are dreams of +style;<br /> +She is not so very bookish, but with repartee and punning<br /> +She can set the savants laughing and make even dudelets +smile.</p> +<p>She has no attacks of talent, she is not a stage-struck +maiden;<br /> +She is wholly free from hobbies, and she dreams of no +“career”;<br /> +She is mostly gay and happy, never sad or care-beladen,<br /> +Though she sometimes sighs a little if a gentleman is near.</p> +<p>She’s a sturdy little walker and she braves all kinds of +weather,<br /> +And when the rain or fog or mist drive rival crimps a-wreck,<br +/> +Her fluffy hair goes curling like a kinked-up ostrich feather<br +/> +Around her ears and forehead and the white nape of her neck.</p> +<p>She is like a fish in water; she can handle reins and +racket;<br /> +From head to toe and finger-tips she’s thoroughly alive;<br +/> +When she goes promenading in a most distracting jacket,<br /> +The rustle round her feet suggests how laundresses may +thrive.</p> +<p>She can dare the wind and sunshine in the most bravado +manner,<br /> +And after hours of sailing she has merely cheeks of rose;<br /> +Old Sol himself seems smitten, and at most will only tan her,<br +/> +Though to everybody else he gives a danger-signal nose.</p> +<p>She’s a trifle sentimental, and she’s fond of +admiration,<br /> +And she sometimes flirts a little in the season’s giddy +whirl;<br /> +But win her if you can, sir, she may prove your life’s +salvation,<br /> +For an angel masquerading oft is she, the Summer Girl.</p> +<h2>THE GHOST</h2> +<p>Through the open door of dreamland<br /> +Came a ghost of long ago, long ago.<br /> +When I wakened, all unheeding<br /> +Was the phantom to my pleading;<br /> +For he would not turn and go,<br /> +But beside me all the day,<br /> +In my work and in my play,<br /> +Trod this ghost of long ago, long ago.</p> +<p>Not a vague and pallid phantom<br /> +Was this ghost that came to me, followed me:<br /> +Though he rose from regions haunted,<br /> +Though he came unbid, unwanted,<br /> +He was very fair to see.<br /> +Like the radiant sun in space<br /> +Was the halo round the face<br /> +Of that ghost that came to me, followed me.</p> +<p>And he wore no shroud or cere-cloth<br /> +As he wandered at my side, close beside:<br /> +He was clothed in royal splendour<br /> +And his eyes were deep and tender,<br /> +While he walked in stately pride;<br /> +And he seemed like some great king,<br /> +Not afraid of anything,<br /> +As he wandered at my side, close beside.</p> +<p>Then I turned to him commanding<br /> +That he go the way he came, whence he came.<br /> +But he answered me in sorrow,<br /> +“May the Past not seek to borrow<br /> +From the Present without blame—<br /> +Just one memory from its store,<br /> +Ere it goes to come no more,<br /> +Back the pathway that it came, whence it came?”</p> +<p>Then ashamed of my full coffers,<br /> +I gave forth from Memory’s hold (wondrous hold!)<br /> +All I owed of tax and duty<br /> +For remembered hours of beauty,<br /> +Which I paid in thoughts of gold;<br /> +Yet my present seemed to be<br /> +Richer still for all the fee<br /> +I gave forth from Memory’s hold (wondrous hold!).</p> +<h2>THE SIGNBOARD</h2> +<p>I will paint you a sign, rumseller,<br /> + And hang it above your door;<br /> +A truer and better signboard<br /> + Than ever you had before.<br /> +I will paint with the skill of a master,<br /> + And many shall pause to see<br /> +This wonderful piece of painting,<br /> + So like the reality.</p> +<p>I will paint yourself, rumseller,<br /> + As you wait for that fair young boy,<br /> +Just in the morning of manhood,<br /> + A mother’s pride and joy.<br /> +He has no thought of stopping,<br /> + But you greet him with a smile,<br /> +And you seem so blithe and friendly,<br /> + That he pauses to chat awhile.</p> +<p>I will paint you again, rumseller,<br /> + I will paint you as you stand,<br /> +With a foaming glass of liquor<br /> + Extended in your hand.<br /> +He wavers, but you urge him—<br /> + Drink, pledge me just this one!<br /> +And he takes the glass and drains it,<br /> + And the hellish work is done.</p> +<p>And next I will paint a drunkard—<br /> + Only a year has flown,<br /> +But into that loathsome creature<br /> + The fair young boy has grown.<br /> +The work was sure and rapid.<br /> + I will paint him as he lies<br /> +In a torpid, drunken slumber,<br /> + Under the wintry skies.</p> +<p>I will paint the form of the mother<br /> + As she kneels at her darling’s side,<br /> +Her beautiful boy that was dearer<br /> + Than all the world beside.<br /> +I will paint the shape of a coffin,<br /> + Labelled with one word—“Lost”<br +/> +I will paint all this, rumseller,<br /> + And will paint it free of cost.</p> +<p>The sin and the shame and the sorrow,<br /> + The crime and the want and the woe<br /> +That are born there in your workshop,<br /> + No hand can paint, you know.<br /> +But I’ll paint you a sign, rumseller,<br /> + And many shall pause to view<br /> +This wonderful swinging signboard,<br /> + So terribly, fearfully true.</p> +<h2>A MAN’S REPENTANCE<br /> +(Intended for recitation at club dinners.)</h2> +<p>To-night when I came from the club at eleven,<br /> + Under the gaslight I saw a face—<br /> +A woman’s face! and I swear to heaven<br /> + It looked like the ghastly ghost of—Grace!</p> +<p>And Grace? why, Grace was fair; and I tarried,<br /> + And loved her a season as we men do.<br /> +And then—but pshaw! why, of course, she is married,<br /> + Has a husband, and doubtless a babe or two.</p> +<p>She was perfectly calm on the day we parted;<br /> + She spared me a scene, to my great surprise.<br /> +“She wasn’t the kind to be broken-hearted,”<br +/> + I remember she said, with a spark in her eyes.</p> +<p>I was tempted, I know, by her proud defiance,<br /> + To make good my promise there and then.<br /> +But the world would have called it a mésalliance!<br /> + I dreaded the comments and sneers of men.</p> +<p>So I left her to grieve for a faithless lover,<br /> + And to hide her heart from the cold world’s +sight<br /> +As women do hide them, the wide earth over;<br /> + My God! <i>was</i> it Grace that I saw to-night?</p> +<p>I thought of her married, and often with pity,<br /> + A poor man’s wife in some dull place.<br /> +And now to know she is here in the city,<br /> + Under the gaslight, and with <i>that</i> face!</p> +<p>Yet I knew it at once, in spite of the daubing<br /> + Of paint and powder, and she knew me;<br /> +She drew a quick breath that was almost sobbing<br /> + And shrank in the shade so I should not see.</p> +<p>There was hell in her eyes! She was worn and jaded<br /> + Her soul is at war with the life she has led.<br /> +As I looked on that face so strangely faded<br /> + I wonder God did not strike me dead.</p> +<p>While I have been happy and gay and jolly,<br /> + Received by the very best people in town,<br /> +That girl whom I led in the way to folly,<br /> + Has gone on recklessly down and down.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p>Two o’clock, and no sleep has found me;<br /> + That face I saw in the street-lamp’s light<br +/> +Peers everywhere out from the shadows around me—<br /> + I know how a murderer feels to-night.</p> +<h2>ARISTARCHUS<br /> +(THE NAME OF THE MOUNTAIN IN THE MOON)</h2> +<p> It was long and long ago our love began;<br +/> + It is something all unmeasured by time’s +span:<br /> +In an era and a spot, by the Modern World forgot,<br /> + We were lovers, ere God named us, Maid and Man.</p> +<p> Like the memory of music made by streams,<br +/> + All the beauty of that other love life seems;<br /> +But I always thought it so, and at last I know, I know,<br /> + We were lovers in the Land of Silver Dreams.</p> +<p> When the moon was at the full, I found the +place;<br /> + Out and out, across the seas of shining space,<br /> +On a quest that could not fail, I unfurled my memory’s +sail<br /> + And cast anchor in the Bay of Love’s First +Grace.</p> +<p> At the foot of Aristarchus lies this bay,<br +/> + (Oh! the wonder of that mountain far away!)<br /> +And the Land of Silver Dreams all about it shines and gleams,<br +/> + Where we loved before God fashioned night or +day.</p> +<p> We were souls, in eerie bodies made of +light;<br /> + We were winged, and we could speed from height to +height;<br /> +And we built a nest called Hope, on the sheer Moon Mountain +Slope,<br /> + Where we sat, and watched new worlds wheel into +sight.</p> +<p> And we saw this little planet known as +Earth,<br /> + When the mighty Mother Chaos gave it birth;<br /> +But in love’s conceit we thought all those worlds from +space were brought,<br /> + For no greater aim or purpose than our mirth.</p> +<p> And we laughed in love’s abandon, and +we sang,<br /> + Till the echoing peals of Aristarchus rang,<br /> +As hot hissing comets came, and white suns burst into flame,<br +/> + And a myriad worlds from out the darkness +sprang.</p> +<p> I can show you, when the Moon is at its +best,<br /> + Aristarchus, and the spot we made our nest,<br /> +Oh! I always wondered why, when the Moon was in the sky,<br +/> + I was stirred with such strange longing, and +unrest.</p> +<p> And I knew the subtle beauty and the +force<br /> + Of our love was never bounded by Earth’s +course.<br /> +So with Memory’s sail unfurled, I went cruising past this +world,<br /> + And I followed till I traced it to its source.</p> +<h2>DELL AND I</h2> +<p> In a mansion grand, just over the way<br /> + Lives bonny, beautiful Dell;<br /> + You may have heard of this lady gay,<br /> + For she is a famous belle.<br /> + I live in a low cot opposite—<br /> + You never have heard of me;<br /> + For when the lady moon shines bright,<br /> + Who would a pale star see?<br /> +But ah, well! ah, well! I am happier far than Dell,<br /> + As strange as that may be.</p> +<p> Dell has robes of the richest kind—<br +/> + Pinks and purples and blues;<br /> + And she worries her maid and frets her mind<br /> + To know which one to choose.<br /> + Which shall it be now, silk or lace?<br /> + In which will I be most fair?<br +/> + She stands by the mirror with anxious face,<br /> + And her maid looks on in +despair.<br /> +Ah, well! ah, well! I am not worried, you see, like +Dell,<br /> + For I have but one to wear.</p> +<p> Dell has lovers of every grade,<br /> + Of every age and style;<br /> + Suitors flutter about the maid,<br /> + And bask in her word and smile.<br +/> + She keeps them all, with a coquette’s art,<br +/> + As suits her mood or mirth,<br /> + And vainly wonders if in <i>one</i> heart<br /> + Of all true love has birth.<br /> +Ah, well! ah, well! I never question myself like Dell,<br +/> + For I <i>know</i> a true +heart’s worth.</p> +<p> Pleasure to Dell seems stale and old,<br /> + Often she sits and sighs;<br /> + Life to me is a tale untold,<br /> + Each day is a glad surprise.<br /> + Dell will marry, of course, some day,<br /> + After her belleship is run;<br /> + She will cavil the matter in worldly way<br /> + And wed Dame Fortune’s +son<br /> +But, ah, well! sweet to tell, I shall not dally and choose like +Dell,<br /> + For I love and am loved +by—<i>one</i>.</p> +<h2>ABOUT MAY</h2> +<p>One night Nurse Sleep held out her hand<br /> + To tired little May.<br /> +“Come, go with me to Wonderland,”<br /> + She said, “I know the way.<br /> +Just rock-a-by—hum-m-m,<br /> + And lo! we come<br /> +To the place where the dream-girls play.”</p> +<p>But naughty May, she wriggled away<br /> + From Sleep’s soft arms, and said:<br /> +“I must stay awake till I eat my cake,<br /> + And then I will go to bed;<br /> +With a by-lo, away I will go.”<br /> + But the good nurse shook her head.</p> +<p>She shook her head and away she sped,<br /> + While May sat munching her crumb.<br /> +But after the cake there came an ache,<br /> + Though May cried: “Come, Sleep, come,<br /> +And it’s oh! my! let us by-lo-by”—<br /> + All save the echoes were dumb.</p> +<p>She ran after Sleep toward Wonderland,<br /> + Ran till the morning light;<br /> +And just as she caught her and grasped her hand,<br /> + A nightmare gave her a fright.<br /> +And it’s by-lo, I hope she’ll know<br /> + Better another night.</p> +<h2>VANITY FAIR</h2> +<p>In Vanity Fair, as we bow and smile,<br /> + As we talk of the opera after the weather,<br /> +As we chat of fashion and fad and style,<br /> + We know we are playing a part together.<br /> +You know that the mirth she wears, she borrows;<br /> +She knows you laugh but to hide your sorrows;<br /> +We know that under the silks and laces,<br /> +And back of beautiful, beaming faces,<br /> +Lie secret trouble and grim despair,<br /> + In Vanity +Fair.</p> +<p>In Vanity Fair, on dress parade,<br /> + Our colours look bright and our swords are +gleaming;<br /> +But many a uniform’s worn and frayed,<br /> + And most of the weapons, despite their seeming,<br +/> +Are dull and blunted and badly battered,<br /> +And close inspection will show how tattered<br /> +And stained are the banners that float above us.<br /> +Our comrades hate, while they swear to love us;<br /> +And robed like Pleasure walks gaunt-eyed Care,<br /> + In Vanity +Fair.</p> +<p>In Vanity Fair, as we strive for place,<br /> + As we rush and jostle and crowd and hurry,<br /> +We know the goal is not worth the race—<br /> + We know the prize is not worth the worry;<br /> +That all our gain means loss for another;<br /> +That in fighting for self we wound each other;<br /> +That the crown of success weighs hard and presses<br /> +The brow of the victor with thorns—not caresses;<br /> +That honours are empty and worthless to wear,<br /> + In Vanity +Fair.</p> +<p>But in Vanity Fair, as we pass along,<br /> + We meet strong hearts that are worth the knowing<br +/> +’Mong poor paste jewels that deck the throng,<br /> + We see a solitaire sometimes glowing.<br /> +We find grand souls under robes of fashion,<br /> +’Neath light demeanours hide strength and passion;<br /> +And fair fine honour and godlike resistance<br /> +In halls of pleasure may have existence;<br /> +And we find pure altars and shrines of prayer<br /> + In Vanity Fair.</p> +<h2>THE GIDDY GIRL</h2> +<p>[This recitation is intended to be given with an accompaniment +of waltz music, introducing dance-steps at the refrain +“With one, two, three,” etc.]</p> +<p>A giddy young maiden with nimble feet,<br /> +Heigh-ho! alack and alas!<br /> +Declared she would far rather dance than eat,<br /> +And the truth of it came to pass.<br /> +For she danced all day and she danced all night;<br /> +She danced till the green earth faded white;<br /> +She danced ten partners out of breath;<br /> +She danced the eleventh one quite to death;<br /> +And still she redowaed up and down—<br /> +The giddiest girl in town.<br /> +With one, two, three; one, two, three; one, two, +three—kick;<br /> +Chassée back, chassée back, whirl around quick.<br +/> +The name of this damsel ended with E—<br /> + Heigh-ho; alack and a-day!<br /> +And she was as fair as a maiden need be,<br /> + Till she danced her beauty away.<br /> +She danced her big toes out of joint;<br /> +She danced her other toes all to a point;<br /> +She danced out slipper and boot and shoe;<br /> +She danced till the bones of her feet came through.<br /> +And still she redowaed, waltzed, and whirled—<br /> +The giddiest girl in the world.<br /> +With one, two, three; one, two, three; one, two, +three—kick;<br /> +Chassée back, chassée back, whirl around quick.</p> +<p>Now the end of my story is sad to relate—<br /> + Heigh-ho! and away we go!<br /> +For this beautiful maiden’s final fate<br /> + Is shrouded in gloom and woe.<br /> +She danced herself into a patent top;<br /> +She whirled and whirled till she could not stop;<br /> +She danced and bounded and sprang so far,<br /> +That she stuck at last on a pointed star;<br /> +And there she must dance till the Judgment Day,<br /> +And after it, too, for she danced away<br /> +Her soul, you see, so she has no place anywhere out of space,<br +/> +With her one, two, three; one, two, three; one, two, +three—kick;<br /> +Chassée back, chassée back, whirl about quick.</p> +<h2>A GIRL’S AUTUMN REVERIE</h2> +<p>We plucked a red rose, you and I,<br /> + All in the summer weather;<br /> +Sweet its perfume and rare its bloom,<br /> + Enjoyed by us together.<br /> +The rose is dead, the summer fled,<br /> + And bleak winds are complaining;<br /> +We dwell apart, but in each heart<br /> + We find the thorn remaining.</p> +<p>We sipped a sweet wine, you and I,<br /> + All in the summer weather.<br /> +The beaded draught we lightly quaffed,<br /> + And filled the glass together.<br /> +Together we watched its rosy glow,<br /> + And saw its bubbles glitter;<br /> +Apart, alone we only know<br /> + The lees are very bitter.</p> +<p>We walked in sunshine, you and I,<br /> + All in the summer weather:<br /> +The very night seemed noonday bright,<br /> + When we two were together.<br /> +I wonder why with our good-bye<br /> + O’er hill and vale and meadow<br /> +There fell such shade, our paths seemed laid<br /> + For evermore in shadow.</p> +<p>We dreamed a sweet dream, you and I,<br /> + All in the summer weather,<br /> +Where rose and wine and warm sunshine<br /> + Were mingled in together.<br /> +We dreamed that June was with us yet,<br /> + We woke to find December.<br /> +We dreamed that we two could forget,<br /> + We woke but to remember.</p> +<h2>HIS YOUTH</h2> +<p>“Dying? I am not dying? Are you mad?<br /> + You think I need to ask for heavenly grace?<br /> +<i>I</i> think <i>you</i> are a fiend, who would be glad<br /> + To see me struggle in death’s cold +embrace.</p> +<p>“But, man, you lie! for I am strong—in truth<br /> + Stronger than I have been in years; and soon<br /> +I shall feel young again as in my youth,<br /> + My glorious youth—life’s one great +priceless boon.</p> +<p>“O youth, youth, youth! O God! that golden +time,<br /> + When proud and glad I laughed the hours away.<br /> +Why, there’s no sacrifice (perhaps no crime)<br /> + I’d pause at, could it make me young +to-day.</p> +<p>“But I’m not <i>old</i>! I grew—just +ill, somehow;<br /> + Grew stiff of limb, and weak, and dim of sight.<br +/> +It was but sickness. I am better now,<br /> + Oh, vastly better, ever since last night.</p> +<p>“And I could weep warm floods of happy tears<br /> + To think my strength is coming back at last,<br /> +For I have dreamed of such an hour for years,<br /> + As I lay thinking of my glorious past.</p> +<p>“You shake your head? Why, man, if you were +sane<br /> + I’d strike you to my feet, I would, in +truth.<br /> +How dare you tell me that my hopes are vain?<br /> + How dare you say I have outlived my youth?</p> +<p>“‘In heaven I may regain it’? Oh, be +still!<br /> + I want no heaven but what my glad youth gave.<br /> +Its long, bright hours, its rapture and its thrill—<br /> + O youth, youth, youth! it is my <i>youth</i> I +crave.</p> +<p>“There is no heaven! There’s nothing but a +deep<br /> + And yawning grave from which I shrink in fear.<br /> +I am not sure of even rest or sleep;<br /> + Perhaps we lie and <i>think</i> as I have here.</p> +<p>“Think, think, think, think, as we lie there and rot,<br +/> + And hear the young above us laugh in glee.<br /> +How dare you say I’m dying! <i>I am not</i>.<br /> + I would curse God if such a thing could be.</p> +<p>“Why, see me stand! why, hear this strong, full +breath—<br /> + Dare you repeat that silly, base untruth?”<br +/> +A cry—a fall—the silence known as death<br /> + Hushed his wild words. Well, has he found his +youth?</p> +<h2>UNDER THE SHEET</h2> +<p>What a terrible night! Does the Night, I +wonder—<br /> + The Night, with her black veil down to her feet<br +/> +Like an ordained nun, know what lies under<br /> + That awful, motionless, snow-white sheet?<br /> +The winds seem crazed, and, wildly howling,<br /> + Over the sad earth blindly go.<br /> +Do they and the dark clouds over them scowling,<br /> + Do they dream or know?</p> +<p>Why, here in the room, not a week or over—<br /> + Tho’ it must be a week, not more than +one—<br /> +(I cannot recken of late or discover<br /> + When one day is ended or one begun),<br /> +But here in this room we were laughing lightly,<br /> + And glad was the measure our two hearts beat;<br /> +And the royal face that was smiling so brightly<br /> + Lies under that sheet.</p> +<p>I know not why—it is strange and fearful,<br /> + But I am afraid of her, lying there;<br /> +She who was always so gay and cheerful,<br /> + Lying so still with that stony stare:<br /> +She who was so like some grand sultana,<br /> + Fond of colour and glow and heat,<br /> +To lie there clothed in that awful manner<br /> + In a stark white sheet.</p> +<p>She who was made out of summer blisses,<br /> + Tropical, beautiful, gracious, fair,<br /> +To lie and stare at my fondest kisses—<br /> + God! no wonder it whitens my hair<br /> +Shriek, O wind! for the world is lonely;<br /> + Trail cloud-veil to the nun Night’s feet!<br +/> +For all that I prize in life is only<br /> + A shape and a sheet.</p> +<h2>A PIN</h2> +<p>Oh! I know a certain woman who is reckoned with the good,<br +/> +But she fills me with more terror than a raging lion could.<br /> +The little chills run up and down my spine whene’er we +meet,<br /> +Though she seems a gentle creature and she’s very trim and +neat.</p> +<p>And she has a thousand virtues and not one acknowledged +sin,<br /> +But she is the sort of person you could liken to a pin.<br /> +And she pricks you, and she sticks you, in a way that can’t +be said—<br /> +When you seek for what has hurt you, why, you cannot find the +head.</p> +<p>But she fills you with discomfort and exasperating +pain—<br /> +If anybody asks you why, you really can’t explain.<br /> +A pin is such a tiny thing—of that there is no +doubt—<br /> +Yet when it’s sticking in your flesh, you’re wretched +till it’s out!</p> +<p>She is wonderfully observing. When she meets a pretty +girl<br /> +She is always sure to tell her if her “bang” is out +of curl.<br /> +And she is so sympathetic; to her friend who’s much +admired,<br /> +She is often heard remarking: “Dear, you look so +<i>worn</i> and tired!”</p> +<p>And she is a careful critic; for on yesterday she eyed<br /> +The new dress I was airing with a woman’s natural pride,<br +/> +And she said: “Oh, how becoming!” and then softly +added, “It<br /> +Is really a misfortune that the basque is such a fit.”</p> +<p>Then she said: “If you had heard me yestereve, I’m +sure, my friend,<br /> +You would say I am a champion who knows how to defend.”<br +/> +And she left me with a feeling—most unpleasant, I +aver—<br /> +That the whole world would despise me if it hadn’t been for +her.</p> +<p>Whenever I encounter her, in such a nameless way<br /> +She gives me the impression I am at my worst that day;<br /> +And the hat that was imported (and that cost me half a sonnet)<br +/> +With just one glance from her round eyes becomes a Bowery +bonnet.</p> +<p>She is always bright and smiling, sharp and shining for a +thrust;<br /> +Use does not seem to blunt her point, nor does she gather +rust.<br /> +Oh! I wish some hapless specimen of mankind would begin<br +/> +To tidy up the world for me, by picking up this pin.</p> +<h2>THE COMING MAN</h2> +<p>Oh! not for the great departed,<br /> + Who formed our country’s laws,<br /> +And not for the bravest-hearted,<br /> + Who died in freedom’s cause,<br /> +And not for some living hero<br /> + To whom all bend the knee,<br /> +My muse would raise her song of praise—<br /> + But for the man <i>to be</i>.</p> +<p>For out of the strife which woman<br /> + Is passing through to-day,<br /> +A man that is more than human<br /> + Shall yet be born, I say.<br /> +A man in whose pure spirit<br /> + No dross of self will lurk;<br /> +A man who is strong to cope with wrong,<br /> + A man who is proud to work.</p> +<p>A man with hope undaunted,<br /> + A man with godlike power,<br /> +Shall come when he most is wanted,<br /> + Shall come at the needed hour.<br /> +He shall silence the din and clamour<br /> + Of clan disputing with clan,<br /> +And toil’s long fight with purse-proud might<br /> + Shall triumph through this man.</p> +<p>I know he is coming, coming,<br /> + To help, to guide, to save.<br /> +Though I hear no martial drumming,<br /> + And see no flags that wave.<br /> +But the great soul travail of woman,<br /> + And the bold free thought unfurled,<br /> +Are heralds that say he is on the way—<br /> + The coming man of the world.</p> +<p>Mourn not for vanished ages,<br /> + With their great heroic men,<br /> +Who dwell in history’s pages<br /> + And live in the poet’s pen.<br /> +For the grandest times are before us,<br /> + And the world is yet to see<br /> +The noblest worth of this old earth<br /> + In the men that are to be.</p> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE KINGDOM OF LOVE***</p> +<pre> + + +***** This file should be named 3628-h.htm or 3628-h.zip****** + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/6/2/3628 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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