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diff --git a/42171.txt b/42171.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 14d6735..0000000 --- a/42171.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,2016 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Gypsy Verses, by Helen Hay Whitney - -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: Gypsy Verses - -Author: Helen Hay Whitney - -Release Date: February 23, 2013 [EBook #42171] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GYPSY VERSES *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Bergquist, Matthew Wheaton and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - GYPSY VERSES - - - - - Gypsy Verses - - _By_ - HELEN HAY WHITNEY - - AUTHOR OF - "_Some Verses_," "_The Bed Time Book_." - - - NEW YORK - - Duffield & Company - 1907 - - - COPYRIGHT, 1907, BY - DUFFIELD & COMPANY - - _Published October, 1907_ - - - To - - _G. V. W. - because she is my friend_ - - - - - CONTENTS - - - PAGE - ATARAH 3 - AGE 4 - LOVE AND DAWN 5 - L'AMOUR AMBIGUEUX 6 - SAPPHICS 7 - SATAN, PRINCE OF DARKNESS 8 - IN PRISON 9 - GHOSTS 10 - LILIS 11 - THE OLD WOMEN 12 - TO HIPPOLYTUS 13 - THE GARDEN HEDGE 14 - THE SLAVE WOMAN 15 - SONG 16 - SANS-JOY 17 - OUT OF THE JUNGLE 18 - IN PORT 19 - SONNY BOY 21 - SUNRISE 22 - DEAD LADIES 24 - WHEN TRISTAN SAILED 25 - THE BATTLE 27 - RECOMPENSE 28 - THE LOTUS EATERS 29 - LOST APHRODITE 30 - THE FOOLS 32 - THE AWAKENING 33 - THE DARK WOMAN 34 - SUMMER SONG 35 - SERAPHIS 36 - VENGEMENT 37 - AUTUMN LOVE 38 - THE WITCH 40 - THE MAN 42 - DOWN IN MALDONADO TOWN 43 - THE CHOICE 45 - THE BROOK 46 - AT THE END OF THE WORLD 47 - THE GYPSY 48 - BOY O' DREAMS 49 - BALLAD OF THE SLAVE 51 - FOAM 53 - THE SEAL 54 - RELEASE 55 - SIN, THE SWORD 56 - FANTASTIC SPRING 57 - SONG 58 - CONTRAST 59 - THE PRICE 60 - THE KING'S DAUGHTER 61 - LAIS 62 - THE HERITAGE 63 - THE MONK IN HIS GARDEN 64 - BIANCA 65 - FREE 66 - BLACK AND GOLD 67 - THE ANSWER 68 - PEACE 69 - BARNABAS 70 - LOST DREAMS 71 - LADY OF LIGHT 72 - SONG 73 - THE GYPSY BLOOD 74 - AND YET 75 - THRO' THE PLEACHED ALLEYS 76 - - -_Acknowledgment is made to Messrs. Harper and Brothers, the Century -Company, and the Metropolitan Magazine for courteous permission to -reproduce certain of the verses included in this volume._ - - -GYPSY VERSES - - - _Oh, you were not so idle-- - You wore a sprig of green; - You wore a feather in your cap, - The reddest ever seen._ - - _Your face was laughing gypsy brown, - Your eyes were of the blue; - You wandered up and down the world, - For you had much to do._ - - _For oh, you were not idle, - Whatever men might say-- - You made the colour of the year - Magnificent and gay._ - - - - -ATARAH - - - With painted slender folded hands - She waited what might come, - Her head was tyred with jewelled bands, - Her mouth was sweet and dumb. - - Her cymar was of ardassine, - Fire red from throat to hem, - Broidered with Turkis stones therein-- - She gave her soul for them. - - Faint cassia and love-haunted myrrh - Made perilous her hair, - And what was Sidon's woe to her - Whose face was king's despair? - - Nor life nor love from those cold lips, - But ah, in what degree, - Her passionate lover leans and sips - Her death-bright poesy. - - - - -AGE - - - Blindness, and women wailing on white seas, - Seas where no placid sails have ever been, - Dreams like wan demons on waste marshes seen - Thro' dulling, fevered eyes. The dregs and lees - Of wine long spilt to dead divinities. - Grey, empty days when Spring is never green, - Can the heart answer what these riddles mean-- - Can the life hold such hopelessness as these? - - Love lying low in the long pleasant grass, - Youth with his eager face against the sun, - They may not guess the hours when these shall pass, - - In what drear coin such lovely dreams are paid, - At what grim cost their flowery days are won, - When man is old and lonely and afraid. - - - - -LOVE AND DAWN - - - Dawn shaking long light pennons in the East-- - Is love the least - And love the greatest of the morning's woes? - See how the rose - Breaks in a hundred petals down the sky. - Darkness must die, - And in the heart, where flutters sad desire, - Wakes the new fire - Silver and azure of the open day. - So, grief, away! - We will be glad with flagons, drown old pain, - And Dawn shall bring us to her own again. - - - - -L'AMOUR AMBIGUEUX - - - You are the dreams we do not dare to dream, - The dim florescence of a mystic rose, - In poverty or pride love comes and goes, - We do not question what the deeps may seem - Launched on the steady current of the stream. - Gaily and hardily we hear the prose; - In youth, red sun, in age the charnel snows. - Nor see the banks where subtle flowers gleam, - In green sweet beds of moly and of thyme - Wild as an errant fancy. All the while - We know you, mystic rose; we know your smile, - Your deep, still eyes, your fragrant floating hair, - The peacock purple of the gown you wear, - O lyric alchemist of rune and rhyme! - - - - -SAPPHICS - - - Leave the Vine, Ah Love, and the wreath of myrtle, - Leave the Song, to die, on the lips of laughter, - Come, for love is faint with the choric measure, - Weary of waiting. - - Down the sky in lines of pellucid amber - Blows the hair of her whom the gods have treasured, - Fair, more fair is mine in the ring of maidens, - Mine for the taking. - - - - -SATAN, PRINCE OF DARKNESS - - - I sinned, but gloriously. I bore the fall - From Heaven's high places as becomes a king. - I did not shrink before the utmost sting - Of torture or of banishment. The pall - Of Dis, I cried, should be the hall - Where sad proud men of men should meet and sing - The woes of that defeat ambitions bring - Hurled from the last vain fight against the wall. - - I thought I had been punished. To forego - All lovely sights, the whisper of fresh rain, - To brood forever endlessly on pain - Yet still a Prince, Ah God, I dreamed,--and then - I learned my Fate, this wandering to and fro - In Devil's work among the sons of men. - - - - -IN PRISON - - - Above her task the long year through - She works with steady hands, - The while her heart is tired with dreams - Which no man understands. - - For long and long ago she knew - Green trees and open sky, - Before the law condemned her days - To doom until she die. - - And so she dreams in mystic peace, - Indifferent to the scene, - Because her heart retains and knows - The little stain of green. - - - - -GHOSTS - - - The long lost lights of love I know, - They thrill from ultimate space, they blow - Like small bewildered stars, tossed high - On some unknown and passionate sky. - - I know them for the loved lost lights - That made the glamour of my nights - Long, long ago, and now I fear - Their coming, and the garb they wear. - - For they are very white and cold, - They are not coloured as of old, - In trailing radiance, rose and red, - For these are ghosts, and they are dead. - - - - -LILIS - - - We have forgiven you because you are so fair, - Eloquent by virtue of your dark enchanting eyes, - Evil to your heart of hearts, shall we blame or care, - You are very beautiful, and love has made you wise. - - With a splendid insolence you exist to sin, - Scorn us for the weaknesses that bring us to our pain. - Weak you are and false you are and never may we win, - Yet we have forgiven you, and shall forgive again. - - - - -THE OLD WOMEN - - - We are very, very old, - We have had our day, - So we bend above our work - While the others play. - - Do they call us women, we - Gaunt and grey and grim, - Hideous and sexless things - Weak of brain and limb? - - Beauty ended, love long past, - Yet, when all else flees, - We are women, for we still - Have our memories. - - - - -TO HIPPOLYTUS - - - It is too late to part. I dreamed a dream - That love had loosed me, that no more your name - Should vex my soul, for very pride and shame - I hid you out of mind; I said, The stream - Has grown too wide between us, it would seem - To sunder even memory. Your fame - Rang hollow on my ear, and then you came - And love laughed for the lie he would redeem. - - It is too late. Love will not let me go. - The bare suns burn me, and the strong winds blow; - I take them fearlessly, for I am wise - At last; for being yours I must be brave, - Tho' you give nothing, still am I your slave, - The light within my heart your eyes, your eyes. - - - - -THE GARDEN HEDGE - - - I live in a beautiful garden, - All joyous with fountains and flowers; - I reck not of penance or pardon, - At ease thro' the exquisite hours. - - My blossoms of lilies and pansies, - Pale heliotrope, rosemary, rue, - All lull me with delicate fancies - As shy as the dawn and the dew. - - But the ghost--Gods--the ghost in the gloaming, - How it lures me with whispers and cries, - How it speaks of the wind and the roaming, - Free, free, 'neath the Romany skies. - - 'Tis the hedge that is crimson with roses, - All wonderfully crimson and gold, - And caged in my beautiful closes - I know what it is to be old. - - - - -THE SLAVE WOMAN - - - Her eyes are dark with unknown deeps, - Old woes and new despair, - Her shackled spirit feels the thong - That breaks her body bare. - - The savage master of her days - Who mocks her passive pain, - How should he know her scorn of him. - Indifferent to the stain? - - For in her heart she sees the glow - Of sacrificial fires, - A priestess of a mystic rite - Performed on nameless pyres. - - The incident of shame and toil - She takes with idle breath, - For she remembers Africa, - And what to her is death? - - - - -SONG - - - The sky is more blue than the eyes of a boy, - A riot of roses entangles the year; - Ah, come to me, run to me, fill me with joy, - Dear, dear, dear. - - The air is a passion of perfume and song, - The little moon swings up above, look above, - I cannot wait longer, I've waited so long, - Love, love, love. - - - - -SANS-JOY - - - Hide your eyes, Angels, beneath your gold phylacteries, - Israfel will charm you with the magic of his song: - Yet you will not smile for him, by reason of your memories, - For Lucifer is absent, and the cry goes up, How long! - - For his expiation you would give your dreams and destinies, - Paradise is clouded by the measure of your pain; - Hide your eyes, Angels, beneath your gold phylacteries, - Till the jasper gates swing wide to bring him home again. - - - - -OUT OF THE JUNGLE - - - Out of the jungle he came, he came, - Man of the lion's breed, - His heart was fire and his eyes were flame, - And he piped on a singing reed. - - Spring was sweet and keen in his blood, - Singing, he sought his mate, - The wife for the life and time of his mood, - Formed for his needs by fate. - - Over his reed he piped and sang, - His eyes were the eyes of a man, - But the jungle knew how his changes rang, - For his heart was the heart of Pan. - - - - -IN PORT - - - Wave buffeted and sick with storm, - The ships came reeling in, - The harbour lights were kind and warm, - And yet, so hard to win. - - Like wings, the tired sails fluttered down, - While night began to fall, - Then came, sea-scarred, toward the town, - The smallest ship of all. - - At last in harbour, safe and still, - No more she need be brave, - No more she'd meet the winds' rough will, - The wanton of each wave. - - The harbour lights! but where the moon - Should murmur blessings bright, - Clouded instead the dread typhoon, - That thundered down the night. - - What curse the luring harbour bore - Of false security; - The port held desolation more - Than boasted all the sea. - - When morning came with leering lip, - What death lay on her breast, - And oh! the little weary ship - Was wrecked with all the rest. - - - - -SONNY BOY - -(A bust by H. F.) - - - Grave as a little god, erect and wise, - He dares the years that open to his gaze. - Brave in his charming beauty, he portrays - A bright eternal youth, and in his eyes - Sweet moons that are no more. No sad surprise - Has gloomed the gay adventure of his ways, - And from the flower-lit meadow of the days - He leaps clean-hearted to life's enterprise. - - - - -SUNRISE - - - There was a cry from the sky, - A cry at night; - It wakened the breeze in the trees - When the moon was white; - And I, only I, - Adrift on life's terrible seas, - Read the cry aright. - - Pennants of gold were unrolled, - They told of sun; - Night's pain with the dark and the rain, - Was over and done. - The travail of old - Had passed from the mother again, - And the fight was won. - - There was a cry from the sky, - And my soul was torn - With a passion divine, as of wine, - From the breast of morn; - For I, only I, - Knew the cry as the signal and sign - That love was born. - - - - -DEAD LADIES - - - Thais and Lalage, your eyes are closed, - Phryne, Aholibah, your lips are dust. - Your tinkling feet are idle and composed, - All your gold beauty vanished into rust. - - Nor Dionysian mysteries taught you this, - Since the gold serpent was your seal and sign; - Tho' deathless be the imprint of your kiss, - The lips that redden are not yours, but mine. - - How you would scorn us, Lalage, the lure - Of your mad moments, us, the motley crew; - Yet shall your beauty only so endure - Imperishable, that we sing of you. - - - - -WHEN TRISTAN SAILED - - - When Tristan sailed from Ireland - Across the summer sea, - How young he was, how debonnaire, - How glad he was and free. - Why should he know the gales would blow, - The skies be black above, - How should he dream his port was Death, - And Doom, whose name is Love? - - The Lady Iseult, sweet as prayer, - We hardly dare to pray, - Pearl-pale beneath her shadow hair, - Grows fairer day by day, - The ichor gains her spring-kissed veins, - Her skies the eyes of youth. - How should she dream the ichor Love, - Was hellebore in truth? - - So Tristan sailed from Ireland - As youth must always sail; - He quaffed the cup, nor asked the wine; - He dared, nor feared to fail. - And be it poison, be it life, - Or wrecks that strew the shore, - Tristan set forth! nor ask the end, - Else youth shall sail no more. - - - - -THE BATTLE - - - Ah, never, never, never! for the flag - Is twined about my body, and my back - Is braced against the wall! I know the lack - Of crust and water, and a man might brag - For fighting thus, yet--how a soul may lag, - For want of just so little, when the rack - Of hopeless strife from dawn to bivouac - Finds the foe now who storms the utmost crag. - - Never surrender! You who storm my heart - Till I am faint with love and hunger, all - Starved for your lips--how can I say "depart"? - And yet--drag up the sword again--and thrust! - Ah, Love, mine enemy--I will not fall - Until my honour's flag and I are dust. - - - - -RECOMPENSE - - - Those who ask for a star - Often receive but a stone, - Yet they asked for a star, - Does the high thought not atone? - - I, who asked but a stone, - A plaything of azure or red, - May I count it for gain - That I won a star instead? - - - - -THE LOTUS EATERS - - - We have no rain, we have no sun, - We only watch the moments run - Like little adders thro' the leaves, - Lost ere their flitting has begun. - - The cool light airs that fan our brow, - What aromatic sweets they know! - The tall tired trees that make our sky - Are lapped in spices as they bow. - - The bright-eyed flowers that form our bed, - Like eager jewels, blue and red, - Seem brimmed with gay immortal life, - Yet we dream on when they are dead. - - - - -LOST APHRODITE - - - The gods upon the hills no more are seen, - Couched on the virginal green, - No more their cry upon the silence grieves, - The shadow of dark leaves. - - The blazonry of Spring must now abate, - Without the purple state - Of Aphrodite, amorous and frail, - Cinctured with lilies pale. - - She who was love and every man's desire, - Now only can inspire, - The mutual love of mortals, and alone - Like wind her plaints are blown. - - About the unregarding world her hands - Yearn forth across the lands - Once passionate with her lovers, but in vain, - They will not come again! - - She who was Aphrodite, tho' she gives - Love to each heart that lives, - Gives and receives not. She, of love the breath, - Doomed now with utter death. - - - - -THE FOOLS - - - On the wrist a paroquet, - Motley on the shoulder, - We exist for joy of life, - Never growing older. - - Dancing down the lane of years, - Rosy garlands trailing, - Who would pause for time or tears, - Barren days bewailing. - - Brighter burden never were - Than the smiles we scatter, - Loving deeds and laughing love, - This is our great matter. - - And the wise who scorn our bells - Mate with melancholy, - We are wiser than the wise, - Holding hands with folly. - - - - -THE AWAKENING - - - Perhaps the world is tired of pageantries, - And all the weary women called the Hours, - Jaded with jewels, shall exchange for flowers - Their badge of pride. In violet harmonies, - With sweet blue veils of silence o'er their eyes, - They shall return to Spring's most languorous bowers; - And Light and Beauty shall come down as showers - Releasing life from all its pedantries. - - Only the bloomy purple hill to see - Thro' half-closed lids, and only to be blind - With asphodils! Shall these things ever be? - Surely the time is ripe to live for this - Dawn, springing radiant from her sleep to find - A world of lovers waiting for her kiss. - - - - -THE DARK WOMAN - - - My dark, wild woman of the braes, - I know your heart, I know your ways, - I know the raw, sweet food you taste, - I love the colours 'round your waist. - - Ribbons of green and gold you wear, - Threaded about your shadowy hair, - My colours--and your eyes are mine, - Dark as the deeps of love--and wine. - - I wake with you at budding Dawn, - Leaving this life of dew-spread lawn, - To join your spirit in the wild, - Your brother, lover, or your child. - - Take me upon your savage breast, - Teach me your calms and your unrest. - Take me, I know the jungle cry, - Teach me your love, or let me die. - - - - -SUMMER SONG - - - My heart's a yellow butterfly - That flutters down the road; - A beggar, tricksy, dancing thing - That scorns a fixed abode. - - The aigrette of the thistle bloom - Becomes the swinging sign - Of merry hostelries, where I - May pause awhile and dine. - - The sky is lapis lazuli - Bestrewn by clouds of pearl,-- - Who would not be a butterfly - Instead of just a girl? - - - - -SERAPHIS - - - He tasted dragon's blood - From the dark dragon tree, - In those far islands where the mood - Is faery-like and free. - - With cinnamon and nard - His strange gay clothes were sweet, - His lips were fanciful with fard, - Red flames played 'round his feet. - - Sharp dancing pointed flames, - Detached as butterflies, - He called them all by secret names, - They were his ecstasies. - - No love, no maiden bright - Might woo him from his swoon, - For he had tasted strange delight - In lands beyond the moon. - - - - -VENGEMENT - - - What was his offense to you, - You who sit thro' dreamless days, - Sifting thro' your fingers slim - Ashes in a porphyry vase? - - Hatred makes your eyes grow hard, - As you conjure forth his name - From the dust that was his face, - From the heart that was his flame. - - Then she, lifting heavy eyes, - Spoke: "When this man walked the world - Him I loved, he loved not me; - So his days to death I hurled. - - "Dying, then, he touched my hand, - Smiled and whispered, 'I forgive'; - This his vengeance on my soul, - I must hate him while I live." - - - - -AUTUMN LOVE - - -I - - Once I could love this season of the year, - And watch the calm and delicate decline - Of Summer gladly; I could see the pine - Deep green on bluest sky, and laugh for cheer - Of very living. Yet I'd fain appear - Th' unhurried gourmet, tasting of my wine, - Lingering o'er memories of the purpled vine, - Loath for each passing moment. Ah, my dear, - Now like a careless child, I toss the hours - Over my shoulder, I forget the sun, - The dewy dawn, the white moon and the flowers. - Like a tired pilgrim with his goal in view, - Looking not right nor left, I run, I run - To that bright day of days that brings me you. - - -II - - I feel as murderers feel, who, having slain - Their love, laugh with red hands and do not care. - I took sweet Summer by her lovely hair, - Bent her white throat, and gladly saw the stain - Crimson her green leaf-gown of hill and plain. - I would not wait for her last kiss, nor spare - One splendid flying hour, for chill and fair - Autumn, my love, comes near me thro' the rain. - - Pale with mysterious wonder, her deep eyes - Are wells of wisdom; fugitive, astray - From a blue land that dreams beyond the skies. - 'Tis done. I lay young Summer on her pyre, - And turning, burn thro' distance to the day - That brings me to the lips of my desire. - - - - -THE WITCH - - - Whence came the fire in her eyes, eyes of a beast in the jungle, - Desperate, golden and green, wild as a river in spate? - Her long lithe limbs were brown, and she took the world as a leopard, - Grave, disdainful and strong, takes of his prey without hate. - - Glamourie slept in her eyes, terribly calm in the tumult, - Hidden and secret and sweet was the smile of her crimson mouth. - A marigold wound in her hair, she swayed like wind in the desert, - Burning and thrilling to thirst the hearts that dream of the South. - - Whence came the fire in her eyes? I, only I, knew the secret, - The thing that hung on her breast, hid by her stormy hair, - Amber drops on a string, her talisman, witches' amber, - Golden, yellow and brown, that only a witch may wear. - - - - -THE MAN - - - The flame is spent, I can no more - Hold the tall candle by your door. - Too often have I watched to see - Your lagging steps come home to me. - - The Tyrian traders taught me this. - They came, perfumed with ambergris, - With amethystine robes, and hair - Curled by the kisses of salt air. - - They mocked me for my weary hands, - Holding your light as love demands, - They sang the lure of poppied sleep, - Their lips were warm, their eyes were deep. - - The flame is spent! Your pale weak face - Must seek another resting place. - Win me, and hold me now who can! - The Tyrian trader was a man! - - - - -DOWN IN MALDONADO TOWN - - - There's a town called Maldonado, - That's the place where I would be; - There's a girl in Maldonado, - And she gave her heart to me. - - Starved with sixty days of sailing, - How we swaggered to the shore, - Hands in pockets, eyes cocked sideways, - At the girl in every door. - - Sweet they fluttered to our shoulders, - She, my girl, the fairest girl, - And I took her for a plaything, - Face of flower and heart of pearl. - - Round my neck she clung and pleaded, - But I told her to be wise; - Said no sailor could be faithful, - And his love was ever lies. - - Then she turned and left me silent, - Stepping weary, stepping slow; - Merry was I to have won her, - And I laughed to see her go. - - Now 'tis done--I have lost her, - Seas between us thunder wide, - "Dear," I said, "I shall forget you," - And God knows that I have lied! - - Many girls have smiled upon me, - Up and down the Northern coast, - But their kisses only taunt me - With the kiss that I have lost. - - Oh! You're killing me by inches, - Velvet lips and eyes of brown, - For it's love I left behind me, - Down in Maldonado town. - - - - -THE CHOICE - - - The long well rose above me, a slim shaft, - With wet, black walls, and high aloft the light - Round as a moon intensified my night. - I ate the air and bitterly I quaffed - The death damp; nor my pleading nor my craft - Availed to aid me in my desperate plight: - The vista of high heaven the only sight - To see, and at my woe high heaven had laughed. - - Suddenly the darkness deepened, and a face - Gloomed on the opening, terrible and grim - An Afreet! In his hands he held disgrace - And direst poverty and ruinous strife. - "Choose now between," he cried, "calm Death by him - And Life empoisoned," yet I cried, "Give Life." - - - - -THE BROOK - - - I have a little brook in the deeps of my heart. - What does it matter if the day be chill or clear, - Coloured like a tourmaline and winged like a dart, - Voiced like a nightingale, it sings all the year. - - Small bright herbs on the banks of the stream, - Moon-pale primroses, and tapestries of fern, - This is the reality and life is just a dream, - Iridescent bubble that the moon tides turn. - - - - -AT THE END OF THE WORLD - - - To the world's end, to the world's end, - Did I wander seeking you, - And wide was the water and dark was the fell, - With Time at my heels like a hound of hell, - And the worst still left to do. - - To the world's end, to the world's end, - And the void to verify. - They told me of a tale of love supreme. - "Sometimes," I cried, "I have caught the gleam, - I shall seek it tho' I die." - - At the world's end, at the world's end, - At the end of the endless mile, - Nothing to see but the silent snow-- - I turned with my tears to your heart, and lo! - Love was with me all the while! - - - - -THE GYPSY - - - O, she was most precious, as the wind's self was fair. - What did I give her when I had her on my knee? - Red kisses for her coral lips, and a red comb for her hair. - She took my gifts, she took my heart, and fled away from me. - - O, but she was fanciful, she found a savage mate, - He scorned her, he spurned her, he drove her from his door; - She cuddled in his inglenook and laughed at all his hate, - She took his curses, took his blows, and never left him more. - - - - -BOY O' DREAMS - - - Must I leave you in the mountains, - Boy o' dreams, - Must I leave you where the fountains - Toss the silver of their streams, - Where the trees are clothed in samite, - And the little broken moon - Is a symbol and an answer, - Like the reading of a rune? - - May I take you to the city, - Boy o' dreams, - Where your heart will break with pity - At the lethargy that seems - Only half alive to living, - Only enemy to mirth, - Where the dusty facts will blind you - To the fancies of the earth? - - I must take you--but I'll keep you, - Boy o' dreams, - Where no alien winds shall sweep you, - In a secret place that gleams, - With the light of your own laughter, - Yours the vessel, yours the chart, - And we'll brave the storm together. - You, the captain of my heart. - - - - -BALLAD OF THE SLAVE - - - The helot got him a hempen cord, - A slave of love was he, - "She made me dance to her circumstance-- - In the air one dances free!" - - She sits on a throne of ivory - Serene in her silver gown, - "Ah, woe," he cried, "but the world is wide, - But 'tis straight where I lie down. - - "She mocked, she scorned, and she hated me, - She shall pity me not," he said; - "Too late for the nether way of hate, - I may flout her when I'm dead." - - Out in the dark of the moonless sky, - The rope was round his neck, - "'Tis the torque of gold from her throat so cold, - Why should I rue or reck?" - - Tighter tangled the hempen cord; - "'Tis her fingers hot with fire, - In a tempest of fear she draws me near,-- - Now dying is not so dire!" - - Black, more black grew the empty void, - "And I but a broken reed, - For there's only her face in this grisly place"-- - But his love stood there indeed! - - Close to her heart she took his head, - And she kissed him back to breath, - "You are mine by right of that line of white, - You are mine--by Life and Death!" - - - - -FOAM - - - I have dallied with wantons, made mad by their passionate wine, - Time, like a golden ball, I have tossed to the wastes of the air. - I have whispered with Beauty, whose song has been sister to mine, - Laughed with the long late hours who lie with the stars in their hair. - - Like the spume on the crest of the wave blowing back to the sea, - Cast from the depths beneath, now to riot and dance in the light, - I have flung you the foam of my heart, to be mask unto me, - Caught to my heart again from the doom of your fugitive sight. - - - - -THE SEAL - - - The document of day is folded down, - Night, the great lawyer, takes the waiting sheet, - And o'er the murky shadows of the town - Sets his red seal, to make the deed complete. - - - - -RELEASE - - - I asked to be released, I did not know - 'Twas hate, not love, that would not let me go. - Vengeance had burned your image on my mind, - I gazed and gazed until my eyes were blind. - Now--neither pride nor love has set me free, - But happy chance--in wonderful degree. - - Shackled by memory, a prey to fear, - Once you were mine by the black load I bore, - But now, released, I lose you--O my Dear, - Ever, irrevocably mine no more! - - - - -SIN, THE SWORD - - - Sin was a terrible and ruddy sword, - My hands were only lilies, only made - To lay against his lips, and so I prayed - Another weapon. Willingly I poured - On his strong heart the gifts that could accord - With my life's fact, but Ah! the gifts were weighed - And all found wanting--and I was afraid - Of love which was so dreadfully my lord. - He showed me the magnificence, the height - To be attained for those who dare to seek, - For those who dare the wonder and delight. - I might attain--I might--but if I should!-- - I was afraid, my fainting heart was weak, - And so, Love help me, I was only--good! - - - - -FANTASTIC SPRING - - - Wear a lure fantastical, - Farthingales of Spring, - Till the out-worn city hearts - Dance for you and sing. - - Lime us with grotesque desires, - Warm with green and gold; - Apathetic we have grown, - Tired and hard and old. - - Draw us gently to your truth, - Calm our hopes and fears; - Till at last the grass blades speak - To attentive ears. - - - - -SONG - - - We only ask for sunshine, - We did not want the rain; - But see the flowers that spring from showers - All up and down the plain. - - We beg the gods for laughter, - We shrink, we dread the tears; - But grief's redress is happiness, - Alternate through the years. - - - - -CONTRAST - - - Steady stand the ilex trees, - All the leaves are still, - Motionless the opal haze - Drowses on the hill. - - There a marble statue waits - Patient of the hours, - Ringed about with silent sun - Over dreamy flowers. - - Nature mirrors perfect peace, - Round me everywhere, - Only in my heart is found - Torment and despair. - - - - -THE PRICE - - - We are so tired of merely being human, - Loving or loved, the sweet imperfect woman. - Masters, you know not what your lips have missed, - On the rose mouths you keep but to be kissed. - - We are Astarte, we are Lilith, we - Know the blue veils which you have named the sea - Cover the eyes of Isis; that the sky - Is the white body of Neith, arched so on high. - - Ours is a secret language, when we smile, - Dreams are denied at birth, all to beguile - Your earthy substance. Ah, at what fell cost - We pay you, so our heritage is lost. - - - - -THE KING'S DAUGHTER - - - She was the fairest of the King's fair daughters, - Gold and rubies glittered on her hands; - Her voice was the lilting of a rain of silver waters, - And her lovers were as endless as her lands. - - Down thro' the birch wood with her maidens all about her, - So virginal she came with dainty tread, - At my eyes she was silent,--could a gypsy turn and flout her: - Love I looked and love I spoke, till white grew red. - - Free she was as fair, she forgot her father's palace, - Left her lands to wander at my side; - She is crowned with forest leaves, with my two curved hands for chalice: - Spring and love must bring a gypsy to his bride. - - - - -LAIS - - - You are white as the moths of Twilight, - You are secret as mist and dew, - And your down-dropped eyes - Are eternally wise, - Strange sins have wrought their hue. - - Mother of men and women, - They are ghosts, not men you have bred; - In infinite scorn - Their bodies were born - While their souls were worse than dead. - - We are what your lips have made us, - Empty, and bitterly old; - Our faith has lied, - Oh, barren bride, - And the fires of the world are cold. - - - - -THE HERITAGE - - - How shall the present verify the past? - Like flames we strove, still onward, upward rising, - Spurning the singing continents--at last, - Wrecked on this fatal day of our devising. - - Nurtured by lunar rainbows, chill and sweet, - Our fancy was a gossamer of beauty; - Now like a web it drags about our feet, - Named with the symbols drear of fact and duty. - - We who were heirs to Egypt, India's child, - Suckled by Greece, and cradled by Cathay, - How tacitly we waive this breeding wild, - Deny our parents in our deeds to-day. - - Let us awake--obedient to our dreams, - Let us embrace huge issues, comprehending - The scheme entire--Great Beauty's birth, which seems - The glorious urge for life, unchecked, unending. - - - - -THE MONK IN HIS GARDEN - - - The air is heavy with a mist of spice, - Vervain and agrimony, clove and rue, - Have I not paid, have I not paid the price? - How shall these tempters torture me anew? - - I close my eyes and dream the incense drifts - Over the monstrance, and the acolyte - Swings the gold censer. Then the vision lifts: - I know the poisonous joys I have to fight. - - Day with its flowers and yellow butterflies, - Holds for my heart no pain, the wind is free - That blows upon my garden from far skies, - Yet may I hold it in white chastity. - - But night!--and the still air!--Ah, God above, - Have I the strength to wage thy war anew? - Blot out my senses or I die for love,-- - Vervain and agrimony, clove and rue! - - - - -BIANCA - - - The orchard apples hung above, - Golden and red and green. - Her face beneath was ripe for love, - Cat-eyed with sparks between. - - Simples she came to gather there - With hands of ivory; - Gold fillets bound her golden hair; - Her gown was cramosie. - - She plucked the herbs with subtle grace, - Derisive in her deed. - Was there no Prince to read her face, - No Prince with Beauty's need? - - Her hands with cassia buds were sweet: - "Come, love," her young heart cried, - The Prince with delicate swift feet, - Was even at her side! - - Her tamed white leopard leaped in fear, - Love beckons love so soon. - They gathered no more simples there, - The long late afternoon. - - - - -FREE - - - Beyond the hill the hearth fires burn, - A hundred flags in air, - But one which tossed but yesterday - Is dead, one hearth is bare. - - The wife whose fingers fed the fire - Grew weary of the play, - A lad laughed thro' the open door - And stole my dear away. - - And now alone I face the road; - No hearth, no home for me. - And yet--Ah Life!--come sun, come rain, - My beggar soul is free. - - - - -BLACK AND GOLD - - - Round her knees her lovers yearned, - She who sat in black and gold, - What recked she who begged or burned, - Sister to the gods of old. - - Darkness was her pedigree, - Light her ever living flame, - Lovers die for such as she, - Paying for her smiles with shame. - - Round her head the music floats, - Black by night and gold by day; - These are Time's inchoate notes, - Calling, "Sister, come away." - - Bride of eager-blooded gods, - Wife to man's primeval age, - What to her shall serve these clods - Save to irk her pilgrimage? - - - - -THE ANSWER - - - The themes of women! Mounting up the sky, - Beating the air with tremulous weak wings, - How shall so small a matter win so high, - The vain sweet goal of their imaginings? - - Striving for Beauty, dark philosophy, - Or the obscure and purple deeps of truth, - How shall they know their one great verity, - The answer to their queries and their youth? - - Simple vain themes of women! Only this - One theme may lift their wings to goals above,-- - To spill their hearts out blindly in a kiss, - An infinite surrendering to love. - - - - -PEACE - - - Night thundered down the valley - From off the rocky steeps, - Like wind it broke the silences - That light divinely keeps. - - As low dark clouds concealing - The things one dare not see, - So grimly dark and ominous - Hung low each shadowy tree. - - Night, the dread terror-master, - What wordless woe he weaves! - Suddenly peace, and all the air - Is scented with green leaves. - - - - -BARNABAS - - - They all are dead but Barnabas; he'll wait, - With his old groping hands and haggard eyes, - Which nothing in the world can now surprise, - Till the last leaf whirls thro' the clanging gate - Of the last sunrise. Did he learn too late? - Maybe, that one may hear the moans and cries - That ring by night, and yet be calm and wise. - And teach the women how a man can hate! - - I did not think a soul could live so long, - And be so little. He remembers youth - With a wry smile of disbelief; the wrong - Was this, he squeezed the fruit so dry - So long ago; and now must live, forsooth - Because a woman will not let him die. - - - - -LOST DREAMS - - - Coming thro' the porch of dreams - To the portal of the day, - Vacant all the ether seems - With a grief that leaves her grey. - - In a threnody of sighs, - With the cloud wreaths 'round her face, - Morning veils her heavy eyes, - Weeping for her vanished grace. - - Ah! in gaining lusty Dawn, - Life, and pleasant facts of light, - Why must we, the darkness gone, - Lose the dreams that haunt the night? - - - - -LADY OF LIGHT - - - Light of the World, what are violets but eyes of you, - Perfume, your hair blowing back on the breeze, - Ah, but the fugitive dainty surprise of you, - Pricking in green on the blossomy trees. - - Give me the sun of your smile to be fire to me, - Give me the moon when the passion is gone, - Give me the light to be dream and desire to me - Down the dark alleys that lead to the dawn. - - - - -SONG - - - You are the dawning of dreams. - You are the end of desire. - You are the gladness and glory that seems - Dauntless, to urge and aspire. - - Cradle my soul on your wings, - Cradle my head on your breast. - Teach me the ardour that conquers and sings. - Grant me your infinite rest. - - - - -THE GYPSY BLOOD - - - Because the lover cares for daffodils - Must we be stranger to the passion flower, - Or slight the iris, dewy from a shower? - The gypsy heather bloom upon the hill - Strikes fiercely on a gypsy heart, and thrills - New argosies of dreams to sail the hours. - No rosy perfume blown from garden bowers - May bear the subtle perfume this distills. - - Must we forego the dreamy twilight stars - Because the true-love lives for morning sun? - Love dare not hold the sense behind such bars. - The moon drips scented petals on our hair, - And gypsy hearts to gypsy flowers must run - While life is everything, tho' love be fair. - - - - -AND YET - - - Inadequate and void, the days - Are not more tired than tears; - And yet, how long, how long the ways, - Down the bare lane of years. - - The bird that flutters from the nest - Is fused of fire and spring, - And yet how soon the throbbing breast - Will lose the life to sing. - - How long the lane, how soon 'tis past, - Rough road, dark sky above, - And yet, dear heart, there's home at last, - With light, and life, and love! - - - - -THRO' THE PLEACHED ALLEYS - - - Thro' the pleached alley in my garden of the Spring - Merry leaves tossed over me with elfish whispering. - I was not alone, alone, for Love with blowing hair - Touched my hands and touched my heart, dancing everywhere. - - Darting round about my steps, as a swallow slips, - How she laughed and laughed at me, with little rosy lips, - Ghostly wise she kissed my eyes, her mouth was chill as snow, - For she had died, my Love had died, so very long ago. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Gypsy Verses, by Helen Hay Whitney - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GYPSY VERSES *** - -***** This file should be named 42171.txt or 42171.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/2/1/7/42171/ - -Produced by Greg Bergquist, Matthew Wheaton and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - -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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