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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a8c8839 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #54902 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/54902) diff --git a/old/54902-0.txt b/old/54902-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 06ae165..0000000 --- a/old/54902-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,13731 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg's The Poems of Madison Cawein, vol. 2, by Madison Cawein - -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/license - - -Title: The Poems of Madison Cawein, vol. 2 - -Author: Madison Cawein - -Illustrator: Eric Pape - -Release Date: June 13, 2017 [EBook #54902] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE POEMS OF MADISON CAWEIN, VOL. 2 *** - - - - -Produced by Larry B. Harrison, Chuck Greif and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - - - - - THE POEMS OF - MADISON CAWEIN - - - VOLUME II - - - NEW WORLD IDYLLS AND - POEMS OF LOVE - - [Illustration] - - Ah, girlhood, through the rosy haze - Come like a moonbeam slipping. Page 3 - _One Day and Another_ - - - - - THE POEMS OF - MADISON CAWEIN - - - _Volume II_ - - - NEW WORLD - IDYLLS AND POEMS - OF LOVE - - - _Illustrated_ - WITH PHOTOGRAVURES AFTER PAINTINGS - BY ERIC PAPE - - - INDIANAPOLIS - THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY - PUBLISHERS - - - - - COPYRIGHT, 1887, 1888, 1889, 1890, 1891, 1892, 1893, 1894, 1896, - 1898, 1899, 1901, 1902, 1905 and 1907, BY MADISON CAWEIN - - COPYRIGHT, 1896, BY COPELAND AND DAY; 1898, BY R. H RUSSELL; 1901, - BY RICHARD G. BADGER AND COMPANY - - - PRESS OF - BRAUNWORTH & CO. - BOOKBINDERS AND PRINTERS - BROOKLYN, N. Y. - - WITH ENDURING FRIENDSHIP, LOVE AND LOYALTY - TO - JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY - - - - -CONTENTS - - -NEW WORLD IDYLLS - - PAGE - - BROTHERS, THE 246 - - DEAD MAN’S RUN 241 - - DEEP IN THE FOREST 196 - - EPIC OF SOUTH-FORK, AN 180 - - FEUD, THE 237 - - IDYLL OF THE STANDING-STONE, THE 161 - - LYNCHERS 239 - - MOSBY AT HAMILTON 235 - - NIELLO, A 192 - - ONE DAY AND ANOTHER 1 - - RAID, THE 244 - - RED LEAVES AND ROSES 116 - - SIREN SANDS 217 - - SOME SUMMER DAYS 171 - - WAR-TIME SILHOUETTES 224 - - WILD THORN AND LILY 122 - - WRECKAGE 209 - - -POEMS OF LOVE - - AFTER DEATH 482 - - AMONG THE ACRES OF THE WOOD 343 - - AN AUTUMN NIGHT 519 - - ANDALIA AND THE SPRINGTIME 304 - - APART 356 - - APOCALYPSE 327 - - AT HER GRAVE 386 - - AT NINEVEH 476 - - AT PARTING 509 - - AT SUNSET 405 - - AT THE STILE 288 - - AT TWENTY-ONE 351 - - AT TWILIGHT 391 - - BLIND GOD, THE 357 - - BURDEN OF DESIRE, THE 274 - - CAN I FORGET? 328 - - CARA MIA 358 - - CARISSIMA MEA 517 - - CARMEN 473 - - CASTLE OF LOVE, THE 295 - - CAVERNS OF KAF, THE 431 - - CHORDS 382 - - CHRISTMAS CATCH, A 378 - - “COME TO THE HILLS” 512 - - CONCLUSION 529 - - CONFESSION, A 388 - - CONSECRATION 298 - - CONSTANCE 362 - - CONTRASTS 516 - - CREOLE SERENADE 321 - - DAUGHTER OF THE SNOW, THE 414 - - DAUGHTER OF THE STATES, A 521 - - DAY AND NIGHT 392 - - DEAD AND GONE 406 - - EPILOGUE 261 - - EVASION 513 - - FERN-SEED 290 - - FINALE 527 - - FLORIDIAN 374 - - FOREST POOL, THE 403 - - GERTRUDE 267 - - GLORY AND THE DREAM, THE 501 - - GHOST WEATHER 402 - - GYPSYING 278 - - HEART’S DESIRE, THE 395 - - HEART OF MY HEART 269 - - HELEN 365 - - HER EYES 354 - - HER VESPER SONG 499 - - HER VIOLIN 492 - - HER VIVIEN EYES 496 - - IDEAL DIVINATION 324 - - “IF I WERE HER LOVER” 337 - - IN A GARDEN 335 - - IN AUTUMN 488 - - INDIFFERENCE 401 - - IN MAY 503 - - IN JUNE 331 - - IN THE GARDEN OF GIRLS 511 - - KINSHIP 352 - - LAST DAYS 390 - - LORA OF THE VALES 313 - - LOST LOVE 283 - - LOVE 268 - - LOVE AND A DAY 369 - - LOVE IN A GARDEN 372 - - LYANNA 447 - - LYDIA 364 - - MARCH AND MAY 486 - - MARGERY 360 - - MASKS 469 - - MEETING IN SUMMER 494 - - MEMORIES 485 - - MESSENGERS 355 - - METAMORPHOSIS 350 - - MIGNON 367 - - MIRIAM 524 - - MY ROSE 329 - - NOCTURNE 348 - - NOËRA 340 - - OLD MAN DREAMS, THE 483 - - OLIVIA IN THE AUTUMN 306 - - ONE NIGHT 407 - - ORIENTAL ROMANCE 317 - - OUT OF THE DEPTHS 397 - - OVERSEAS 285 - - PASTORAL LOVE 302 - - PLEDGES 315 - - PORPHYROGENITA 292 - - PUPIL OF PAN, A 312 - - QUARREL, THE 522 - - REASONS 497 - - REED CALL FOR APRIL 490 - - RESTRAINT 330 - - ROMANTIC LOVE 300 - - SALAMANDER, THE 438 - - SENORITA 479 - - “SHE IS SO MUCH” 353 - - SINCE THEN 481 - - SIRENS, THE 346 - - SNOW AND FIRE 502 - - SONG FOR YULE, A 380 - - SPIRITS OF LIGHT AND DARKNESS, THE 454 - - SPIRIT OF THE STAR, THE 417 - - SPIRIT OF THE VAN, THE 423 - - STROLLERS 271 - - SUCCUBA, THE 464 - - SUMMER SEA, THE 525 - - SYLVIA OF THE WOODLAND 308 - - THE PARTING 412 - - THE RIDE 507 - - THE TRYST 276 - - “THIS IS THE FACE OF HER” 399 - - THREE BIRDS 393 - - TOLLMAN’S DAUGHTER, THE 319 - - TRANSUBSTANTIATION 368 - - UNCERTAINTY 280 - - UNREQUITED 394 - - WATER WITCH, THE 459 - - “WERE I AN ARTIST” 505 - - “WHEN SHE DRAWS NEAR” 489 - - WHEN SHIPS PUT OUT TO SEA 376 - - WHY? 347 - - WILL O’ THE WISPS 333 - - WILL YOU FORGET? 515 - - WITNESSES 310 - - WORDS 345 - - - - -LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS - - -AH, GIRLHOOD, THROUGH THE ROSY HAZE -COME LIKE A MOONBEAM SLIPPING. (See page 3) _Frontispiece_ - - PAGE - -WHERE THE WOODCOCK CALL. (See page 161) 160 - -SOMETHING DREW ME, UNRETURNING, -FILLED ME WITH A FINER FLAME. (See page 419) 350 - -I LOOK INTO THY HEART AND THEN I KNOW -THE WONDROUS POETRY OF THE LONG-AGO. - (See page 497) 490 - - - - - NEW WORLD IDYLLS - - _O lyrist of the lowly and the true, - The song I sought for you - Still bides unsung. What hope for me to find, - Lost in the dædal mind, - The living utterance with lovely tongue, - To sing,--as once he sung, - Rare Ariosto, of Knight-Errantry,-- - How you in Poesy, - Song’s Paladin, Knight of the Dream and Day, - The shield of magic sway! - Of that Atlantes’ power, sweet and terse, - The skyey-builded verse! - The shield that dazzles, brilliant with surprise, - Our unanointed eyes.-- - Oh, could I write as it were worthy you, - Each word, a spark of dew,-- - As once Ferdusi wrote in Persia,-- - Would string each rosy spray - Of each unfolding flower of my song; - And Iran’s bulbul tongue - Would sob its heart out o’er the fountain’s slab - In gardens of Afrasiab._ - - - - - ONE DAY AND ANOTHER - - _A Lyrical Eclogue_ - - - - - PART I - - LATE SPRING - - - The mottled moth at eventide - Beats glimmering wings against the pane; - The slow, sweet lily opens wide, - White in the dusk like some dim stain; - The garden dreams on every side - And breathes faint scents of rain: - Among the flowering stocks they stand; - A crimson rose is in her hand. - - - I - - _Outside her garden. He waits musing_: - - Herein the dearness of her is; - The thirty perfect days of June - Made one, in maiden loveliness - Were not more sweet to clasp and kiss, - With love not more in tune. - - Ah me! I think she is too true, - Too spiritual for life’s rough way: - So say her eyes,--her soul looks through,-- - Two bluet blossoms, watchet-blue, - Are not more pure than they. - - So kind, so beautiful is she, - So soft and white, so fond and fair, - Sometimes my heart fears she may be - Not long for Earth, and secretly - Sweet sister to the air. - - - II - - _Dusk deepens. A whippoorwill calls._ - - The whippoorwills are calling where - The golden west is graying; - “’Tis time,” they say, “to meet him there-- - Why are you still delaying? - - “He waits you where the old beech throws - Its gnarly shadow over - Wood violet and the bramble rose, - Frail lady-fern and clover. - - “Where elder and the sumac peep - Above your garden’s paling, - Whereon, at noon, the lizards sleep, - Like lichen on the railing. - - “Come! ere the early rising moon’s - Gold floods the violet valleys; - Where mists, like phantom picaroons - Anchor their stealthy galleys. - - “Come! while the deepening amethyst - Of dusk above is falling-- - ’Tis time to tryst! ’tis time to tryst!” - The whippoorwills are calling. - - They call you to these twilight ways - With dewy odor dripping-- - Ah, girlhood, through the rosy haze - Come like a moonbeam slipping. - - - III - - _He enters the garden, speaking dreamily_: - - There is a fading inward of the day, - And all the pansy sunset clasps one star; - The twilight acres, eastward, glimmer gray, - While all the world to westward smoulders far. - - Now to your glass will you pass for the last time? - Pass! humming some ballad, I know. - Here where I wait it is late and is past time-- - Late! and the moments are slow, are slow. - - There is a drawing downward of the night; - The bridegroom Heaven bends down to kiss the moon: - Above, the heights hang silver in her light; - Below, the vales stretch purple, deep with June. - - There in the dew is it you hiding lawny? - You? or a moth in the vines?-- - You!--by your hand! where the band twinkles tawny! - You!--by your ring, like a glow-worm that shines! - - - IV - - _She approaches, laughing. She speaks_: - - You’d given up hope? - - _He_ - - - Believe me! - - _She_ - - Why! is your love so poor? - - _He_ - - No. Yet you _might_ deceive me! - - _She_ - - As many a girl before.-- - Ah, dear, you will forgive me? - - _He_ - - Say no more, sweet, say no more! - - _She_ - - Love trusts; and that’s enough, my dear. - Trust wins through love; whereof, my dear, - Love holds through trust: and love, my dear, - Is--all my life and lore. - - _He_ - - Come, pay me or I’ll scold you.-- - Give me the kiss you owe.-- - You run when I would hold you? - - _She_ - - No! no! I say! now, no!-- - How often have I told you, - You must not use me so? - - _He_ - - More sweet the dusk for this is, - For lips that meet in kisses.-- - Come! come! why run from blisses - As from a dreadful foe? - - - V - - _She stands smiling at him, shyly, then speaks_: - - How many words in the asking! - How easily I can grieve you!-- - My “yes” in a “no” was a-masking, - Nor thought, dear, to deceive you.-- - A kiss?--the humming-bird happiness here - In my heart consents.... But what are words, - When the thought of two souls in speech accords? - Affirmative, negative--what are they, dear? - I wished to say “yes,” but somehow said “no.” - The woman within me knew you would know, - Knew that your heart would hear. - - _He speaks_: - - So many words in the doing!-- - Therein you could not deceive me; - Some things are sweeter for the pursuing: - I knew what you meant, believe me.-- - Bunched bells of the blush pomegranate, to fix - At your throat.... Six drops of fire they are.... - Will you look--where the moon and its following star - Rise silvery over yon meadow ricks? - While I hold--while I bend your head back, so.... - For I know it is “yes” though you whisper “no,” - And my kisses, sweet, are six. - - - VI - - _Moths flutter around them. She speaks_: - - Look!--where the fiery - Glow-worm in briery - Banks of the moon-mellowed bowers - Sparkles--how hazily - Pinioned and airily - Delicate, warily, - Drowsily, lazily, - Flutter the moths to the flowers. - - White as the dreamiest - Bud of the creamiest - Rose in the garden that dozes, - See how they cling to them! - Held in the heart of their - Hearts, like a part of their - Perfume, they swing to them - Wings that are soft as a rose is. - - Dim as the forming of - Dew in the warming of - Moonlight, they light on the petals; - All is revealed to them; - All!--from the sunniest - Tips to the honiest - Heart, whence they yield to them - Spice, through the darkness that settles. - - So to our tremulous - Souls come the emulous - Agents of love; through whose power - All that is best in us, - All that is beautiful, - Selfless and dutiful, - Is manifest in us, - Even as the scent of a flower. - - - VII - - - _Taking her hand he says_: - - What makes you beautiful? - Answer, now, answer!-- - Is it that dutiful - Souls are all beautiful? - Is it romance or - Beauty of spirit, - Which souls, that merit, - Of heaven inherit?-- - Have you an answer? - - _She, roguishly_: - - What makes you lovable? - Answer, now, answer!-- - Is it not provable - That man is lovable - Just because chance, or - Nature, makes woman - Love him?--Her human - Part’s to illumine.-- - Have you an answer? - - - VIII - - _Then, regarding him seriously, she continues_: - - Could I recall every joy that befell me - There in the past with its anguish and bliss, - Here in my heart it hath whispered to tell me,-- - They were no joys like this. - - Were it not well if our love could forget them, - Veiling the _Was_ with the dawn of the _Is_? - Dead with the past we should never regret them, - Being no joys like this. - - Now they are gone and the Present stands speechful, - Ardent of word and of look and of kiss,-- - What though we know that their eyes are beseechful!-- - They were no joys like this. - - Were it not well to have more of the spirit, - Living high Futures this earthly must miss? - Less of the flesh, with the Past pining near it? - Knowing no joys like this! - - - IX - - _Leaving the garden for the lane. He, with lightness of heart_: - - We will leave reason, - Sweet, for a season: - Reason were treason - Now that the nether - Spaces are clad, oh, - In silvery shadow-- - We will be glad, oh, - Glad as this weather! - - _She, responding to his mood_: - - Heart unto heart! where the moonlight is slanted, - Let us believe that our souls are enchanted:-- - I in the castle-keep; you are the airy - Prince who comes seeking me; love is the fairy - Bringing us two together. - - _He_ - - Starlight in masses - Over us passes; - And in the grass is - Many a flower.-- - - Now will you tell me - How ’d you enspell me? - What once befell me - There in your bower? - - _She_ - - Soul unto soul!--in the moon’s wizard glory, - Let us believe we are parts in a story:-- - I am a poem; a poet you hear it - Whispered in star and in flower; a spirit, - Love, puts my soul in your power. - - - X - - _He, suddenly and very earnestly_: - - Perhaps we lived in the days - Of the Khalif Haroun er Reshid; - And loved, as the story says - Did the Sultan’s favorite one - And the Persian Emperor’s son, - Ali ben Bekkar, he - Of the Kisra dynasty. - - Do you know the story?--Well, - _You_ were Haroun’s Sultana. - When night on the palace fell, - A slave, through a secret door,-- - Low-arched on the Tigris’ shore,-- - By a hidden winding stair - Brought me to your bower there. - - Then there was laughter and mirth, - And feasting and singing together, - In a chamber of wonderful worth; - In a chamber vaulted high - On columns of ivory; - Its dome, like the irised skies, - Mooned over with peacock eyes; - Its curtains and furniture, - Damask and juniper. - - Ten slave girls--so many blooms-- - Stand, holding tamarisk torches, - Silk-clad from the Irak looms; - Ten handmaidens serve the feast, - Each maid like a star in the east; - Ten lutanists, lutes a-tune, - Wait, each like the Ramadan moon. - - For you, in a stuff of Merv - Blue-clad, unveiled and jeweled, - No metaphor made may serve: - Scarved deep with your raven hair, - The jewels like fireflies there-- - Blossom and moon and star, - The Lady Shemsennehar. - - The zone that girdles your waist - Would ransom a Prince and Emeer; - In your coronet’s gold enchased, - And your bracelet’s twisted bar, - Burn rubies of Istakhar; - And pearls of the Jamshid race - Hang looped on your bosom’s lace. - - You stand like the letter I; - Dawn-faced, with eyes that sparkle - Black stars in a rosy sky; - Mouth, like a cloven peach, - Sweet with your smiling speech; - Cheeks, that the blood presumes - To make pomegranate blooms. - - With roses of Rocknabad, - Hyacinths of Bokhara,-- - Creamily cool and clad - In gauze,--girls scatter the floor - From pillar to cedarn door. - Then, a pomegranate bloom in each ear, - Come the dancing-girls of Kashmeer. - - Kohl in their eyes, down the room,-- - That opaline casting-bottles - Have showered with rose-perfume,-- - They glitter and drift and swoon - To the dulcimer’s languishing tune; - In the liquid light like stars - And moons and nenuphars. - - Carbuncles, tragacanth-red, - Smoulder in armlet and anklet: - Gleaming on breast and on head, - Bangles of coins, that are angled, - Tinkle: and veils, that are spangled, - Flutter from coiffure and wrist - Like a star-bewildered mist. - - Each dancing-girl is a flower - Of the Tuba from vales of El Liwa.-- - How the bronzen censers glower! - And scents of ambergris pour, - And of myrrh, brought out of Lahore, - And of musk of Khoten! how good - Is the scent of the sandalwood! - - A lutanist smites her lute, - Sings loves of Mejnoon and Leila:-- - Her voice is an Houri flute;-- - While the fragrant flambeaux wave, - Barbaric, o’er free and slave, - O’er fabrics and bezels of gems - And roses in anadems. - - Sherbets in ewers of gold, - Fruits in salvers carnelian; - Flagons of grotesque mold, - Made of a sapphire glass, - Brimmed with wine of Shirâz; - Shaddock and melon and grape - On plate of an antique shape. - - Vases of frosted rose, - Of alabaster graven, - Filled with the mountain snows; - Goblets of mother-of-pearl, - One filigree silver-swirl; - Vessels of gold foamed up - With spray of spar on the cup. - - Then a slave bursts in with a cry: - “The eunuchs! the Khalif’s eunuchs!-- - With scimitars bared draw nigh! - Wesif and Afif and he, - Chief of the hideous three, - Mesrour!--the Sultan ’s seen - ’Mid a hundred weapons’ sheen!” - - Did we part when we heard this?--No! - It seems that my soul remembers - How I clasped and kissed you, so.... - When they came they found us--dead, - On the flowers our blood dyed red; - Our lips together, and - The dagger in my hand. - - - XI - - _She, musingly_: - - How it was I can not tell, - For I know not where nor why; - But I know we loved too well - In some world that does not lie - East or west of where we dwell, - And beneath no earthly sky. - - Was it in the golden ages?-- - Or the iron?--that I heard,-- - In the prophecy of sages,-- - Haply, how had come a bird, - Underneath whose wing were pages - Of an unknown lover’s word. - - I forget. You may remember - How the earthquake shook our ships; - How our city, one huge ember, - Blazed within the thick eclipse: - When you found me--deep December - Sealed my icy eyes and lips. - - I forget. No one may say - That such things can not be true:-- - Here a flower dies to-day, - There, to-morrow, blooms anew.... - Death is silent.--Tell me, pray, - Why men doubt what God can do? - - - XII - - _He, with conviction_: - - As to that, nothing to tell! - You being all my belief, - Doubt can not enter or dwell - Here where your image is chief; - Here where your name is a spell, - Potent in joy and in grief. - - Is it the glamour of spring - Working in us so we seem - Aye to have loved? that we cling - Even to some fancy or dream, - Rainbowing everything, - Here in our souls, with its gleam? - - See! how the synod is met - There of the planets to preach us:-- - Freed from the earth’s oubliette, - See how the blossoms beseech us!-- - Were it not well to forget - Winter and death as they teach us? - - Dew and a bud and a star, - All,--like a beautiful thought, - Over man’s wisdom how far!-- - God for some purpose hath wrought.-- - Could we but know why they are, - And that they end not in naught! - - Stars and the moon; and they roll - Over our way that is white.-- - Here shall we end the long stroll? - Here shall I kiss you good night? - Or, for a while, soul to soul, - Linger and dream of delight? - - - XIII - - _They reënter the garden. She speaks somewhat pensively_: - - Myths tell of walls and cities, lyred of love, - That rose to music.--Were that power my own, - Had I that harp, that magic barbiton, - What had I builded for our lives thereof?-- - - In docile shadows under bluebell skies, - A home upon the poppied edge of eve, - Beneath pale peaks the splendors never leave, - ’Mid lemon orchards whence the egret flies. - - Where, pitiless, the ruined hand of death - Should never reach. No bud, no flower fade: - Where all were perfect, pure and unafraid: - And life serener than an angel’s breath. - - The days should move to music: song should tame - The nights, attentive with their listening stars: - And morn outrival eve in opal bars, - Each preaching beauty with rose-tongues of flame. - - O home! O life! desired and to be! - How shall we reach you?--Far the way and dim.-- - Give me your hand, sweet! let us follow him, - Love with the madness and the melody. - - - XIV - - _He, observing the various dowers around them_: - - Violets and anemones - The surrendered Hours - Pour, as handsels, round the knees - Of the Spring, who to the breeze - Flings her myriad flowers. - - Like to coins, the sumptuous day - Strews with blossoms golden - Every furlong of his way,-- - Like a Sultan gone to pray - At a Kaaba olden. - - Warlock Night, with spark on spark, - Clad in dim attire, - Dots with stars the haloed dark,-- - As a priest around the Ark - Lights his lamps of fire. - - These are but the cosmic strings - Of the harp of Beauty, - Of that instrument which sings, - In our souls, of love, that brings - Peace and faith and duty. - - - XV - - _She, seriously_: - - Duty?--Comfort of the sinner - And the saint!--When grief and trial - Weigh us, and within our inner - Selves,--responsive to love’s viol,-- - Hope’s soft voice grows thin and thinner. - It is kin to self-denial. - - Self-denial! Through whose feeling - We are gainer though we ’re loser; - All the finer force revealing - Of our natures. No accuser - Is the conscience then, but healing - Of the wound of which we ’re chooser. - - Who the loser, who the winner, - If the ardor fail as preacher?-- - None who loved was yet beginner, - Though another’s love-beseecher: - Love’s revealment ’s of the inner - Life and God Himself is teacher. - - Heine said “no flower knoweth - Of the fragrance it revealeth; - Song, its heart that overfloweth, - Never nightingale’s heart feeleth”-- - Such is love the spirit groweth, - Love unconscious if it healeth. - - - XVI - - _He, looking smilingly into her eyes, after a pause, lightly_: - - An elf there is who stables the hot - Red wasp that sucks on the apricot; - An elf, who rowels his spiteful bay, - Like a mote on a ray, away, away; - An elf, who saddles the hornet lean - And dins i’ the ear o’ the swinging bean; - Who straddles, with cap cocked, all awry, - The bottle-green back o’ the dragon-fly. - - And this is the elf who sips and sips - From clover-horns whence the perfume drips; - And, drunk with dew, in the glimmering gloam - Awaits the wild-bee’s coming home; - In ambush lies where none may see, - And robs the caravan bumblebee: - Gold bags of honey the bees must pay - To the bandit elf of the fairy-way. - - Another ouphen the butterflies know, - Who paints their wings with the hues that glow - On blossoms: squeezing from tubes of dew - Pansy colors of every hue - On his bloom’s pied pallet, he paints the wings - Of the butterflies, moths, and other things. - This is the elf that the hollyhocks hear, - Who dangles a brilliant in each one’s ear; - Teases at noon the pane’s green fly, - And lights at night the glow-worm’s eye. - - But the dearest elf, so the poets say, - Is the elf who hides in an eye of gray; - Who curls in a dimple or slips along - The strings of a lute to a lover’s song; - Who smiles in her smile and frowns in her frown, - And dreams in the scent of her glove or gown; - Hides and beckons, as all may note, - In the bloom or the bow of a maiden’s throat. - - - XVII - - _She, pensively, standing among the flowers_: - - Soft through the trees the night wind sighs, - And swoons and dies. - Above, the stars hang wanly white; - Here, through the dark, - A drizzled gold, the fireflies - Rain mimic stars in spark on spark.-- - ’Tis time to part, to say good night. - Good night. - - From fern to flower the night-moths cross - At drowsy loss. - The moon drifts, veiled, through clouds of white; - And pearly pale, - In silvery blurs, through beds of moss, - Their tiny moons the glow-worms trail.-- - ’Tis time to part, to say good night. - Good night. - - - XVIII - - _He, at parting, as they proceed down the garden_: - - You say we can not marry, now - That roses and the June are here? - To your decision I must bow.-- - Ah, well!--perhaps ’t is best, my dear. - Let’s swear again each old love vow - And love another year. - - Another year of love with you! - Of dreams and days, of sun and rain! - When field and forest bloom anew, - And locust clusters pelt the lane, - When all the song-birds wed and woo, - I’ll not take “no” again. - - Oft shall I lie awake and mark - The hours by no clanging clock, - But, in the dim and dewy dark, - Far crowing of some punctual cock; - Then up, as early as the lark - To meet you by our rock. - - The rock, where first we met at tryst; - Where first I wooed and won your love.-- - Remember how the moon and mist - Made mystery of the heaven above - As now to-night?--Where first I kissed - Your lips, you trembling like a dove. - - So, then, we will not marry now - That roses and the June are here, - That warmth and fragrance weigh each bough? - And, yet, your reason is not clear ... - Ah, well! We ’ll swear anew each vow - And wait another year. - - - - - PART II - - EARLY SUMMER - - - The cricket in the rose-bush hedge - Sings by the vine-entangled gate; - The slim moon slants a timid edge - Of pearl through one low cloud of slate; - Around dark door and window-ledge - Like dreams the shadows wait. - And through the summer dusk she goes, - On her white breast a crimson rose. - - - I - - _She delays, meditating. A rainy afternoon._ - - Gray skies and a foggy rain - Dripping from streaming eaves; - Over and over again - Dull drop of the trickling leaves: - And the woodward-winding lane, - And the hill with its shocks of sheaves - One scarce perceives. - - Shall I go in such wet weather - By the lane or over the hill?-- - Where the blossoming milkweed’s feather - The diamonded rain-drops fill; - Where, draggled and drenched together, - The ox-eyes rank the rill - By the old corn-mill. - - The creek by now is swollen, - And its foaming cascades sound; - And the lilies, smeared with pollen, - In the dam look dull and drowned. - ’Tis the path I oft have stolen - To the bridge; that rambles round - With willows bound. - - Through a bottom wild with berry, - And packed with the ironweeds - And elder,--washed and very - Fragrant,--the fenced path leads - Past oak and wilding cherry, - Where the tall wild-lettuce seeds, - To a place of reeds. - - The sun through the sad sky bleaches-- - Is that a thrush that calls?-- - A bird in the rain beseeches: - And see! on the balsam’s balls, - And leaves of the water-beeches-- - One blister of wart-like galls-- - No rain-drop falls. - - My shawl instead of a bonnet!... - ’Though the woods be dripping yet, - Through the wet to the rock I’ll run it!-- - How sweet to meet in the wet!-- - Our rock with the vine upon it,-- - Each flower a fiery jet,-- - Where oft we ’ve met. - - - II - - _They meet. He speaks_: - - How fresh the purple clover - Smells in its veil of rain! - And where the leaves brim over - How musky wild the lane! - See, how the sodden acres, - Forlorn of all their rakers, - Their hay and harvest makers, - Look green as spring again. - - Drops from the trumpet-flowers - Rain on us as we pass; - And every zephyr showers, - From tilted leaf or grass, - Clear beads of moisture, seeming - Pale, pointed emeralds gleaming; - Where, through the green boughs streaming, - The daylight strikes like glass. - - - _She speaks_: - - How dewy, clean and fragrant - Look now the green and gold!-- - And breezes, trailing vagrant, - Spill all the spice they hold. - The west begins to glimmer; - And shadows, stretching slimmer, - Make gray the ways; and dimmer - Grow field and forest old. - - Beyond those rainy reaches - Of woodland, far and lone, - A whippoorwill beseeches; - And now an owlet’s moan - Drifts faint upon the hearing.-- - These say the dusk is nearing. - And, see, the heavens, clearing, - Take on a tender tone. - - How feebly chirps the cricket! - How thin the tree-toads cry! - Blurred in the wild-rose thicket - Gleams wet the firefly.-- - This way toward home is nearest; - Of weeds and briers clearest.... - We ’ll meet to-morrow, dearest; - Till then, dear heart, good-by. - - - III - - _They meet again under the greenwood tree. He speaks_: - - Here at last! And do you know - That again you ’ve kept me waiting? - Wondering, anticipating - That your “yes” meant “no.” - - Now you ’re here we ’ll have our day.... - Let us take this daisied hollow, - And beneath these beeches follow - This wild strip of way - - To the stream; wherein are seen - Stealing gar and darting minnow; - Over which snake-feeders winnow - Wings of black and green. - - Like a cactus flames the sun; - And the mighty weaver, Even, - Tenuous colored, there in heaven, - His rich weft ’s begun.... - - How I love you! from the time-- - You remember, do you not?-- - When, within your orchard-plot, - I was reading rhyme, - - As I told you. And ’t was thus:-- - “By the blue Trinacrian sea, - Far in pastoral Sicily - With Theocritus”-- - - That I answered you who asked. - But the curious part was this:-- - That the whole thing was amiss; - That the Greek but masked - - Tales of old Boccaccio: - Tall Decameronian maids - Strolled for me among the glades, - Smiling, sweet and slow. - - And when you approached,--my book - Dropped in wonder,--seemingly - To myself I said, “’Tis she!” - And arose to look - - In Lauretta’s eyes and--true! - Found them yours.--You shook your head, - Laughing at me, as you said, - “Did I frighten you?” - - You had come for cherries; these - Coatless then I climbed for while - You still questioned with a smile, - And still tried to tease. - - Ah, love, just two years have gone - Since then.... I remember, you - Wore a dress of billowy blue - Muslin.--_Was_ it “lawn”?-- - - And your apron still I see-- - All its whiteness cherry-stained-- - Which you held; wherein I rained - Ripeness from the tree. - - And I asked you--for, you know, - To my eyes your serious eyes - Said such deep philosophies-- - If you ’d read Rousseau. - - You remember how a chance, - Somewhat like to mine, one June - Happened him at castle Toune, - Over there in France? - - And a cherry dropping fair - On your cheek, I, envying it, - Cried--remembering Rousseau’s wit-- - “Would my lips were there!” ... - - Here we are at last. We ’ll row - Down the stream.--The west has narrowed - To one streak of rose, deep-arrowed.-- - There ’s our skiff below. - - - IV - - _Entering the skiff, she speaks_: - - Waters flowing dark and bright - In the sunlight or the moon, - Fill my soul with such delight - As some visible music might; - As some slow, majestic tune - Made material to the sight. - - Blossoms colored like the skies, - Sunset-hued and tame or wild, - Fill my soul with such surmise - As the mind might realize - If one’s thoughts, all undefiled, - Should take form before the eyes. - - So to me do these appeal; - So they sway me every hour: - Letting all their beauty steal - On my soul to make it feel - Through a rivulet or flower, - More than any words reveal. - - - V - - _He speaks, rowing_: - - See, sweetheart, how the lilies lay - Their lambent leaves about our way; - Or, pollen-dusty, bob and float - Their nenuphars around our boat.-- - The middle of the stream is reached - Three strokes from where our boat was beached. - - Look up. You scarce can see the sky, - Through trees that lean, dark, dense and high; - That, coiled with grape and trailing vine, - Build vast a roof of shade and shine; - A house of leaves, where shadows walk, - And whispering winds and waters talk. - - There is no path. The saplings choke - The trunks they spring from. There an oak, - Floods from the Alleghanies bore, - Lies rotting; and that sycamore, - Which lays its bulk from shore to shore,-- - Uprooted by the rain,--perchance - May be the bridge to some romance: - Its heart of punk, a spongy white, - Glows, ghostly foxfire, in the night. - - Now opening through a willow fringe - The waters creep, one tawny tinge - Of sunset; and on either marge - The cottonwoods make walls of shade, - With breezy balsam pungent: large, - The gradual hills loom; darkly fade - The waters wherein herons wade, - Or wing, like Faëry birds, from grass - That mats the shore by which we pass. - - - _She speaks_: - - On we pass; we rippling pass, - On sunset waters still as glass. - A vesper-sparrow flies above, - Soft twittering, to its woodland love. - A tufted-titmouse calls afar; - And from the west, like some swift star, - A glittering jay flies screaming. Slim - The sand-snipes and kingfishers skim - Before us; and some twilight thrush-- - Who may discover where such sing?-- - The silence rinses with a gush - Of limpid music bubbling. - - - _He speaks_: - - On we pass.--Now let us oar - To yonder strip of ragged shore, - Where, from a rock with lichens hoar, - A ferny spring falls, babbling frore - Through woodland mosses. Gliding by - The sulphur-colored firefly - Lights its pale lamp where mallows gloom, - And wild-bean and wild-mustard bloom.-- - Some hunter there within the woods - Last fall encamped, those ashes say - And campfire boughs.--The solitudes - Grow dreamy with the death of day. - - - VI - - _She sings_: - - Over the fields of millet - A young bird tries its wings; - And wild as a woodland rillet, - Its first mad music rings rings-- - Soul of my soul, where the meadows roll - What is the song it sings? - - “Love, and a glad good-morrow, - Heart where the rapture is! - Good-morrow, good-morrow! - Adieu to sorrow! - Here is the road to bliss: - Where all day long you may hearken my song, - And kiss, kiss, kiss;” - - Over the fields of clover, - Where the wild bee drones and sways, - The wind, like a shepherd lover, - Flutes on the fragrant ways-- - Heart of my heart, where the blossoms part, - What is the air he plays? - - “Love, and a song to follow, - Soul with the face a-gleam! - Come follow, come follow, - O’er hill and through hollow, - To the land o’ the bloom and beam: - Where, under the flowers, you may listen for hours, - And dream, dream, dream!” - - - VII - - _He speaks, letting the boat drift_: - - Here the shores are irised; grasses - Clump the water gray, that glasses - Broken wood and deepened distance. - Far the musical persistence - Of a field-lark lingers low - In the west’s rich tulip-glow. - - White before us flames one pointed - Star; and Day hath Night anointed - King; from out her azure ewer - Pouring starry fire, truer - Than pure gold. Star-crowned he stands - With the starlight in his hands. - - Will the moon bleach through the ragged - Tree-tops ere we reach yon jagged - Rock that rises gradually, - Pharos of our homeward valley?-- - All the west is smouldering red; - Embers are the stars o’erhead. - - At my soul some Protean elf is: - You ’re Simætha; I am Delphis, - You are Sappho and your Phaon, - I.--We love.--There lies our way, on,-- - Let us say,--Æolian seas, - To the violet Lesbian leas. - - On we drift. I love you. Nearer - Looms our Island. Rosier, clearer, - The Leucadian cliff we follow, - Where the temple of Apollo - Shines--a pale and pillared fire.... - Strike, oh, strike the Lydian lyre!-- - Out of Hellas blows the breeze - Singing to the Sapphic seas. - - - VIII - - _Landing, he sings_: - - Night, night, ’t is night. The moon drifts low above us, - And all its gold is tangled in the stream: - Love, love, my love, and all the stars, that love us, - The stars smile down and every star ’s a dream. - - In odorous purple, where the falling warble - Of water cascades and the plunged foam glows, - A columned ruin lifts its sculptured marble - Friezed with the chiselled rebeck and the rose. - - - _She sings_: - - Sleep, sleep, sweet sleep sleeps at the drifting tiller, - And in our sail the Spirit of the Rain-- - Love, love, my love, ah, bid thy heart be stiller, - And, hark! the music of the singing main. - - What flowers are those that blow their balm unto us, - From mouths of wild aroma, each a flame?-- - Or is it Love that breathes? sweet Love who drew us, - Who kissed our eyes and made us see the same? - - - _He speaks_: - - Dreams; dreams we dream! no dream that we would banish! - The temple and the nightingale _are_ there! - Our love hath made them, nevermore to vanish, - Real as yon moon, this wild-rose in your hair. - - Night, night, ’tis night!--and Love’s own star ’s before us, - Its starred reflection in the starry stream.-- - Yes, yes, ah yes! his presence shall watch o’er us, - To-night, to-night, and every night we dream. - - - IX - - _Homeward through flowers; she speaks_: - - Behold the offerings of the common hills! - Whose lowly names have made them three times dear: - One evening-primrose and an apron-full - Of violets; and there, in multitudes, - Dim-seen in moonlight, sweet cerulean wan, - The bluet, making heaven of every dell - With morn’s ambrosial blue: dew-dropping plumes - Of the mauve beard’s-tongue; and the red-freaked cups - Of blackberry-lilies all along the creek, - Where, lulled, the freckled silence sleeps, and vague - The water flows, when, at high noon, the cows - Wade knee-deep, and the heat is honied with - The drone of drowsy bees and dizzy flies. - How bright the moon is on that fleur-de-lis; - Blue, streaked with crystal like a summer day: - And is it moonlight there? or is it flowers? - White violets? lilies? or a daisy bed? - And now the wind, with softest lullaby, - Swings all their cradled heads and rocks-to-sleep - Their fragrant faces and their golden eyes, - Curtained, and frailly wimpled with the dew. - - Simple suggestions of a life most fair! - Flowers, you speak of love and untaught faith, - Whose habitation is within the soul, - Not of the Earth, yet for the Earth indeed.... - - What is it halcyons my heart? makes calm, - With calmness not of knowledge, all my soul - This night of nights?--Is ’t love? or faith? or both?-- - The lore of all the world is less than these - Simple suggestions of a life most fair, - And love most sweet that I have learned to know! - - - X - - _He speaks, musingly_: - - Yes, I have known its being so; - Long ago was I seeing so-- - Beckoning on to a fairer land, - Out of the flowers it waved its hand; - Bidding me on to life and love, - Life with the hope of the love thereof. - - What is the value of knowing it, - If you are shy in showing it?-- - Need of the earth unfolds the flower, - Dewy sweet, at the proper hour; - And, in the world of the human heart, - Love is the flower’s counterpart. - - So when the soul is heedable, - Then is the heart made readable.-- - I in the book of your heart have read - Words that are truer than truth hath said: - Measures of love, the spirit’s song, - Writ of your soul to haunt me long. - - Love can hear each laudable - Thought of the loved made audible, - Spoken in wonder, or joy, or pain, - And reëcho it back again: - Ever responsive, ever awake, - Ever replying with ache for ache. - - - XI - - _She speaks, dreamily_: - - Earth gives its flowers to us - And heaven its stars. Indeed, - _These_ are as lips that woo us, - _Those_ are as lights that lead, - With love that doth pursue us, - With hope that still doth speed. - - Yet shall the flowers lie riven, - And lips forget to kiss; - The stars fade out of heaven, - And lights lead us amiss-- - As love for which we ’ve striven; - As hope that promises. - - - XII - - _He laughs, wishing to dispel her seriousness_: - - If love I have had of you, you had of me, - Then doubtless our loving were over; - One would be less than the other, you see; - Since what you returned to your lover - Were only his own; and-- - - - XIII - - _She interrupts him, speaking impetuously_: - - But if I lose you, if you part with me, - I will not love you less - Loving so much now. If there is to be - A parting and distress,-- - What will avail to comfort or relieve - The soul that’s anguished most?-- - The knowledge that it once possessed, perceive, - The love that it has lost. - You must acknowledge, under sun and moon - All that we feel is old; - Let morning flutter from night’s brown cocoon - Wide wings of flaxen gold; - The moon burst through the darkness, soaring o’er, - Like some great moth and white, - These have been seen a myriad times before - And with renewed delight.-- - So ’tis with love;--how old yet new it is!-- - This only should we heed,-- - To once have known, to once have felt love’s bliss, - Is to be rich indeed.-- - Whether we win or lose, we lose or win, - Within our gain or loss - Some purpose lies, some end unseen of sin, - Beyond our crown or cross. - - - XIV - - _Nearing her home, he speaks_: - - True, true!--Perhaps it would be best - To be that lone star in the west; - Above the earth, within the skies, - Yet shining here in your blue eyes. - - Or, haply, better here to blow - A flower beneath your window low; - That, brief of life and frail and fair, - Finds yet a heaven in your hair. - - Or well, perhaps, to be the breeze - That sighs its soul out to the trees; - A voice, a breath of rain or drouth, - That has its wild will with your mouth. - - These things I long to be. I long - To be the burthen of some song - You love to sing; a melody, - Sure of sweet immortality. - - - XV - - _At the gate. She speaks_: - - Sunday shall we ride together? - Not the root-rough, rambling way - Through the wood we went that day, - In last summer’s sultry weather. - - Past the Methodist camp-meeting, - Where religion helped the hymn - Gather volume; and a slim - Minister, with textful greeting, - - Welcomed us and still expounded.-- - From the service on the hill - We had passed three hills and still - Loud, though far, the singing sounded. - - Nor that road through weed and berry - Drowsy days led me and you - To the old-time barbecue, - Where the country-side made merry. - - Dusty vehicles together; - Darkies with the horses near - Tied to trees; the atmosphere - Redolent of bark and leather, - - And of burgoo and of beef; there - Roasting whole within the trench; - Near which spread the long pine bench - Under shading limb and leaf there. - - As we went the homeward journey - You exclaimed, “They intermix - Pleasure there and politics, - Love and war: our modern tourney.” - - And the fiddles!--through the thickets, - How they thumped the old quadrille! - Scraping, droning on the hill, - It was like a swarm of crickets.... - - Neither road! The shady quiet - Of that path by beech and birch, - Winding to the ruined church - Near the stream that sparkles by it. - - Where the silent Sundays listen - For the preacher--Love--we bring - In our hearts to preach and sing - Week-day shade to Sabbath glisten. - - - XVI - - _He, at parting_: - - Yes, to-morrow. Early morn.-- - When the House of Day uncloses - Portals that the stars adorn,-- - Whence Light’s golden presence throws his - Flaming lilies, burning roses, - At the wide wood’s world of wall, - Spears of sparkle at each fall: - - Then together we will ride - To the wood’s cathedral places; - Where, like prayers, the wildflowers hide, - Sabbath in their fairy faces; - Where, in truest, untaught phrases, - Worship in each rhythmic word, - God is praised by many a bird. - - Look above you.--Pearly white, - Star on star now crystallizes - Out of darkness: Afric night - Hangs them round her like devices - Of strange jewels. Vapor rises, - Glimmering, from each wood and dell.-- - Till to-morrow, then, farewell. - - - XVII - -_She tarries at the gate a moment, watching him disappear down the lane. -He sings, and the sound of his singing grows fainter and fainter and at -last dies away in the distance_: - - Say, my heart, O my heart, - These be the eves for speaking! - There is no wight will work us spite - Beneath the sunset’s streaking. - - Yes, my sweet, O my sweet, - Now is the time for telling! - To walk together in starry weather - Down lanes with elder smelling. - - O my heart, yes, my heart, - Now is the time for saying! - When lost in dreams each wildflower seems - And every blossom praying. - - Lean, my sweet, listen, sweet,-- - No sweeter time than this is,-- - So says the rose, the moth that knows,-- - To take sweet toll in kisses. - - - - - PART III - - LATE SUMMER - - - Heat lightning flickers in one cloud, - As in a flower a firefly; - Some rain-drops, that the rose-bush bowed, - Jar through the leaves and dimly lie: - Among the trees, now low, now loud, - The whispering breezes sigh. - The place is lone; the night is hushed; - Upon the path a rose lies crushed. - - - I - - _Musing, he strolls among the quiet lanes by farm and field_: - - Now rests the season in forgetfulness, - Careless in beauty of maturity; - The ripened roses round brown temples, she - Fulfils completion in a dreamy guess. - Now Time grants night the more and day the less: - The gray decides; and brown, - Dim golds and drabs in dulling green express - Themselves and redden as the year goes down. - Sadder the fields where, thrusting hoary high - Their tasseled heads, the Lear-like corn-stocks die, - And, Falstaff-like, buff-bellied pumpkins lie.-- - Deeper to tenderness, - Sadder the blue of hills that lounge along - The lonesome west; sadder the song - Of the wild red-bird in the leafage yellow.-- - Deeper and dreamier, ay! - Than woods or waters, leans the languid sky - Above lone orchards where the cider-press - Drips and the russets mellow. - - Nature grows liberal: from the beechen leaves - The beech-nuts’ burrs their little pockets thrust, - Bulged with the copper of the nuts that rust; - Above the grass the spendthrift spider weaves - A web of silver for which dawn designs - Thrice twenty rows of pearls: beneath the oak, - That rolls old roots in many gnarly lines,-- - The polished acorns, from their saucers broke, - Strew oval agates.--On sonorous pines - The far wind organs; but the forest near - Is silent; and the blue-white smoke - Of burning brush, beyond that field of hay, - Hangs like a pillar in the atmosphere; - But now it shakes--it breaks and all the - vines And tree-tops tremble;--see! the wind is here! - Billowing and boisterous; and the smiling day - Rejoices in its clamor. Earth and sky - Resound with glory of its majesty, - Impetuous splendor of its rushing by.-- - But on those heights the forest still is still, - Expectant of its coming.... Far away - Each anxious tree upon each waiting hill - Tingles anticipation, as in gray - Surmise of rapture. Now the first gusts play, - Like laughter low, about their rippling spines; - And now the wildwood, one exultant sway, - Shouts--and the light at each tumultuous pause, - The light that glooms and shines, - Seems hands in wild applause. - - How glows that garden! though the white mists keep - The vagabonding flowers reminded of - Decay that comes to slay in open love, - When the full moon hangs cold and night is deep; - Unheeding still, their cardinal colors leap - And laugh encircled of the scythe of death,-- - Like lovely children he prepares to reap,-- - Staying his blade a breath - To mark their beauty ere, with one last sweep, - He lays them dead and turns away to weep.-- - Let me admire,-- - Before the sickle of the coming cold - Shall mow them down,--their beauties manifold: - How like to spurts of fire - That scarlet salvia lifts its blooms, which heap - Yon square of sunlight. And, as sparkles creep - Through charring parchment, up that window’s screen - The cypress dots with crimson all its green, - The haunt of many bees. - Cascading dark those porch-built lattices, - The nightshade bleeds with berries; drops of blood, - Hanging in clusters, ’mid the blue monk’s-hood. - - There, in that garden old, - The bright-hued clumps of zinnias unfold - Their formal flowers; and the marigold - Lifts its pinched shred of orange sunset caught - And elfed in petals. The nasturtium, - All pungent leaved and acrid of perfume, - Hangs up its goblin bonnet, fairy-brought - From Gnomeland. There, predominant red, - And arrogant, the dahlia lifts its head, - Beside the balsam’s rose-stained horns of honey, - Deep in the murmuring, sunny, - Dry wildness of the weedy flower-bed; - Where crickets and the weed-bugs, noon and night, - Shrill dirges for the flowers that soon will die, - And flowers already dead.-- - I seem to hear the passing Summer sigh: - A voice, that seems to weep, - “Too soon, too soon the Beautiful passes by! - And soon, amid her bowers, - Will dripping Autumn mourn with all her flowers.”-- - If I, perchance, might peep - Beneath those leaves of podded hollyhocks, - That the bland wind with odorous whispers rocks, - I might behold her,--white - And weary,--Summer, ’mid her flowers asleep, - Her drowsy flowers asleep, - The withered poppies knotted in her locks. - - - II - - _He is reminded of another day with her_: - - The hips were reddening on this rose, - Those haws were hung with fire, - That day we went this way that goes - Up hills of bough and brier. - This hooked thorn caught her gown and seemed - Imploring her to linger; - Upon her hair a sun-ray streamed - Like some baptizing finger. - - This false-foxglove, so golden now - With yellow blooms, like bangles, - Was bloomless then. But yonder bough,-- - The sumac’s plume entangles,-- - Was like an Indian’s painted face; - And, like a squaw, attended - That bush, in vague vermilion grace, - With beads of berries splendid. - - And here we turned to mount that hill, - Down which the wild brook tumbles; - And, like to-day, that day was still, - And mild winds swayed the umbels - Of these wild-carrots, lawny gray: - And there, deep-dappled o’er us, - An orchard stretched; and in our way - Dropped ripened fruit before us. - - With muffled thud the pippin fell, - And at our feet rolled dusty; - A hornet clinging to its bell, - The pear lay bruised and rusty: - The smell of pulpy peach and plum, - From which the juice oozed yellow,-- - Around which bees made sleepy hum,-- - Made warm the air and mellow. - - And then we came where, many-hued, - The wet wild morning-glory - Hung its balloons in shadows dewed - For dawning’s offertory: - With bush and bramble, far away, - Beneath us stretched the valley, - Cleft of one creek, as clear as day, - That rippled musically. - - The brown, the bronze, the green, the red - Of weed and brier ran riot - To walls of woods, whose pathways led - To nooks of whispering quiet: - Long waves of feathering goldenrod - Ran through the gray in patches, - As in a cloud the gold of God - Burns, that the sunset catches. - - And there, above the blue hills rolled, - Like some far conflagration, - The sunset, flaming marigold, - We watched in exultation: - Then, turning homeward, she and I - Went in love’s sweet derangement-- - How different now seem earth and sky, - Since this undreamed estrangement. - - - III - - _He enters the woods. He sits down despondently_: - - Here where the day is dimmest, - And silence company, - Some might find sympathy - For loss, or grief the grimmest, - In each great-hearted tree-- - Here where the day is dimmest-- - But, ah, there ’s none for me! - - In leaves might find communion, - Returning sigh for sigh, - For love the heavens deny; - The love that yearns for union, - Yet parts and knows not why.-- - In leaves might find communion-- - But, ah, not I, not I! - - My eyes with tears are aching.-- - Why has she written me? - And will no longer see?-- - My heart with grief is breaking, - With grief that this should be.-- - My eyes with tears are aching-- - Why has she written me? - - - IV - - _He proceeds in the direction of a stream_: - - Better is death than sleep, - Better for tired eyes.-- - Why do we weep and weep - When near us the solace lies? - There, in that stream, that, deep,-- - Reflecting woods and skies,-- - Could comfort all our sighs. - The mystery of things, - Of dreams, philosophies, - To which the mortal clings, - _That_ can unriddle these.-- - What is ’t the water sings? - What is ’t it promises?-- - End to my miseries! - - - V - - _He seats himself on a rock and gazes steadily into the stream_: - - And here alone I sit and it is so!-- - O vales and hills! O valley-lands and knobs! - What cure have you for woe? - What balm that robs - The brain of thought, the knowledge of its woe? - None! none! ah me! that my sick heart may know!-- - The wearying sameness!--yet this thing is so! - This thing is so, and still the waters flow, - The leaves drop slowly down; the daylight throbs - With sun and wind, and yet this thing is so! - There is no sympathy in heaven or earth - For human sorrow! all we see is mirth, - Or madness; cruelty or lust; - Nature is heedless of her children’s grief; - Man is to her no more than is a leaf, - That buds and has its summer, that is brief, - Then falls, and mixes with the common dust. - Here, at this culvert’s mouth, - The shadowy water, flowing toward the south, - Seems deepest, stagnant-stayed.-- - What is it yonder that makes me afraid? - Of my own self afraid?--I do not know!-- - What power draws me to the striate stream? - What evil? or what dream? - Me! dropping pebbles in the quiet wave, - That echoes, strange as music in a cave, - Hollow and thin; vibrating in the shade, - As if ’t were tears that fell, and, falling, made - A crystal sound, a shadow wail of woe, - Wrung from the rocks and waters there below; - An ailing phantom that will not be laid; - Complaining ghosts of sobs that fill my breast,-- - That will not forth,--and give my heart no rest. - - There, in the water, how the lank sword-grass - Mats its long blades, each blade a crooked kris, - Making a marsh; ’mid which the currents miss - Their rock-born melodies. - But there and there, one sees - The wide-belled mallow, as within a glass, - Long-pistiled, leaning o’er - The root-contorted shore, - As if its own pink image it would kiss. - And there the tangled wild-potato vine - Lifts beakered blossoms, each a cup of wine, - As pale as moonlight is:-- - No mandrake, curling convolutions up, - Loops heavier blossoms, each a conical cup - That swoons moon-nectar and a serpent’s hiss.-- - And there tall gipsy lilies, all a-sway, - Of coppery hue - Streaked as with crimson dew, - Mirror fierce faces in the deeps, - O’er which they lean, bent in inverted view.-- - And where the stream around those rushes creeps, - The dragon-fly, in endless error, keeps - Sewing the pale-gold gown of day - With tangled stitches of a burning blue: - Its brilliant body is a needle fine, - A thread of azure ray, - Black-pinioned, shuttling the shade and shine. - But here before me where my pensive shade - Looks up at me, the stale stream, stagnant, lies, - Deep, dark, but clear and silent; streaked with hues - Of ragweed pollen, and of spawny ooze, - Through which the seeping bubbles, bursting, rise.-- - All flowers here refuse - To grow or blossom; beauties, too, are few, - That haunt its depths: no glittering minnows braid - Its sleepy crystal; and no gravels strew - With colored orbs its bottom. Half afraid - I shrink from my own eyes - There in its cairngorm of reflected skies.-- - I know not why, and yet it seems I see-- - What is ’t I see there moving stealthily? - - I know not what!--But where the kildees wade, - Slim in the foamy scum, - From that direction hither doth it come, - Whate’er it is, that makes my soul afraid. - Nearer it draws to where those low rocks ail, - Warm rocks, on which some water-snake hath clomb, - Basking its spotted body, coiling numb, - Brown in the brindled shade.-- - At first it seemed a prism on the grail, - A bubble’s prism, like the shadow made - Of water-striders; then a trail, - An angled sparkle in a webby veil - Of duckweed, green as verdigris, it swayed - Frog-like through deeps, to crouch, a flaccid, pale, - Squat bulk below.... - I gaze, and though I would, I can not go. - Reflected trees and skies, - And breeze-blown clouds that lounge at sunny loss, - Seem in its stolid eyes, - Its fishy gaze, that holds me in strange wise. - Ghoul-like it seems to rise, - And now to sink; its eldritch features fail, - Then come again in rhythmic waviness, - With arms like tentacles that seem to press - Thro’ weed and water: limbs that writhe and fade, - And clench, and twist, and toss, - Root-like and gnarled, and cross and inter-cross - Through flabby hair of smoky moss. - - How horrible to see this thing at night! - Or when the sunset slants its brimstone light - Above the pool! when, blue, in phantom flight, - The will-o’-the-wisps, perhaps, above it reel. - Then, haply, would it rise, a rotting green, - Up, up, and gather me with arms of steel, - Soft steel, and drag me where the wave is white, - Beneath that boulder brown, that plants a keel - Against the ripple there, a shoulder lean.-- - No, no! I must away before ’tis night! - Before the fireflies dot - The dark with sulphur blurrings bright! - Before, upon that height, - The white wild-carrots vanish from the sight; - And boneset blossoms, tossing there in clusters, - Fade to a ridge, a streak of ghostly lustres: - And, in that sunlit spot, - Yon cedar tree is not! - But a huge cap instead, that, half-asleep, - Some giant dropped while driving home his sheep: - And ’mid those fallow browns - And russet grays, the fragrant peak - Of yonder timothy stack, - Is not a stack, but something hideous, black, - That threatens and, grotesquely demon, frowns. - - I must away from here.-- - Already dusk draws near. - The owlet’s dolorous hoot - Sounds quavering as a gnome’s wild flute; - The toad, within the wet, - Begins to tune its goblin flageolet: - The slow sun sinks behind - Those hills; and, like a withered cheek - Of Quaker quiet, sorrow-burdened, there - The spectral moon ’s defined - Above those trees,--as in a wild-beast’s lair - A golden woman, dead, with golden hair,-- - Above that mass of fox-grape vines - That, like a wrecked appentice, roofs those pines.-- - Oh, I am faint and weak.-- - I must away, away! - Before the close of day!-- - Already at my back - I feel the woods grow black; - And sense the evening wind, - Guttural and gaunt and blind, - Whining behind me like an unseen wolf. - Deeper now seems the gulf - Into whose deeps I gaze; - From which, with madness and amaze, - _That_ seems to rise, the horror there, - With webby hands and mossy eyes and hair.-- - Oh, will it pierce, - With all its feelers fierce, - Beyond the pool’s unhallowed water-streak?-- - - Yes; I must go, must go! - Must leave this ghastly creek, - This place of hideous fear! - For everywhere I hear - A dripping footstep near, - A voice, like water, gurgling at my ear, - Saying, “Come to me! come and rest below! - Sleep and forget her and with her thy woe!”-- - I try to fly.--I can not.--Yes, and no!-- - What madness holds me!--God! that obscene, slow, - Sure mastering chimera there, - Perhaps, has fastened round my neck, - Or in my matted hair, - Some horrible feeler, dire, invisible!-- - Off, off! thou hoop of Hell! - Thou devil’s coil!... - Back, back into thy cesspool! Off of me!-- - See, how the waters thrash and boil! - At last! at last! thank God! my soul is free! - My mind is freed of that vile mesmerism - That drew me to--what end? my God! what end? - Haply ’twas merely fancy, that strange fiend: - My fancy, and a prism - Of sunset in the stream, a firefly fleck, - That now, a lamp of golden fairy oil, - Lights me my homeward way, the way I flee. - No more I stare, magnetic-fixed; nor reck, - Nor little care to foil - The madness there! the murder there! that slips - Back to its lair of slime, that seeps and drips, - That sought in vain to fasten on my lips. - - - VI - - _Taking a letter from his pocket, he hurries away_: - - What can it mean for me? what have I done to her? - I, in our season of love as a sun to her: - She, all my heaven of silvery, numberless - Stars and its moon, shining golden and slumberless; - Who on my life, that was thorny and lowery, - Came--and made beautiful; smiled--and made flowery. - She, to my heart and my soul a divinity! - She, who--I dreamed!--seemed my spirit-affinity!-- - What have I done to her? what have I done? - - What can she mean by this?--what have I said to her? - I, who have idolized, worshiped, and pled to her; - Sung with her, laughed with her, sorrowed and sighed for her; - Lived for her only; and gladly had died for her! - See! she has written me thus! she has written me-- - Sooner would dagger or serpent had smitten me!-- - Would you had shriveled ere ever you’d read of it, - Eyes, that are wide to the grief and the dread of it!-- - What have I said to her? what have I said? - What shall I make of it? I who am trembling, - Fearful of losing.--A moth, the dissembling - Flame of a taper attracts with its guttering, - Flattering on till its body lies fluttering, - Scorched in the summer night.--Foolish, importunate, - Why didst thou quit the cool flowers, unfortunate!-- - Such has she been to me, making me such to her!-- - Slaying me, saying I never was much to her!-- - What shall I make of it? what can I make? - - Love, in thy everglades, moaning and motionless, - Look, I have fallen; the evil is potionless: - I, with no thought but the day that did lock us in, - Set naked feet ’mid the cottonmouth-moccasin, - Under the roses, the Cherokee, eying me:-- - I,--in the heav’n with the egrets that, flying me, - Winging like blooms from magnolias, rose slenderly, - Pearl and pale pink: where the mocking-bird tenderly - Sang, making vistas of mosses melodious, - Wandered,--unheeding my steps,--in the odious - Ooze and the venom. I followed the wiry - Violet curve of thy star falling fiery-- - So was I lost in night! thus am undone! - - Have I not told to her--living alone for her-- - Purposed unfoldments of deeds I had sown for her - Here in the soil of my soul? their variety - Endless--and ever she answered with piety. - See! it has come to this--all the tale’s suavity - At the ninth chapter grows hateful with gravity; - Cruel as death all our beautiful history-- - Close it!--the final is more than a mystery.-- - Yes; I will go to her; yes; and will speak. - - - VII - - _After the final meeting; the day following_: - - I seem to see her still; to see - That blue-hung room. Her perfume comes - From lavender folds, draped dreamily,-- - A-blossom with brocaded blooms,-- - Some stuff of orient looms. - - I seem to hear her speak; and back, - Where sleeps the sun on books and piles - Of porcelain and bric-à-brac, - A tall clock ticks above the tiles, - Where Love’s framed profile smiles. - - I hear her say, “Ah, had I known!-- - I suffer too for what has been-- - For what must be.”--A wild ache shone - In her sad gaze that seemed to lean - On something far, unseen. - - And as in sleep my own self seems - Outside my suffering self.--I flush - ’Twixt facts and undetermined dreams, - And stand, as silent as that hush - Of lilac light and plush. - - Smiling, but suffering, I feel, - Beneath that face, so sweet and sad, - In those pale temples, thoughts, like steel, - Pierce burningly.... I had gone mad - Had I once thought her glad.-- - - Unconsciously, with eyes that yearn - To look beyond the present far, - For one faint future hope, I turn-- - There, in her garden, one fierce star, - A cactus, red as war, - - Vermilion as a storm-sunk sun, - Flames torrid splendor,--brings to life - A sunset; memory of one - Rich eve she said she ’d be my wife; - An eve with beauty rife. - - Again amid the heavy hues, - Soft crimson, seal, and satiny gold - Of flowers there, I stood ’mid dews - With her; deep in her garden old, - While sunset’s flame unrolled. - - And now!... It can not be! and yet - To see ’tis so!--In heart and brain - To know ’tis so!--While, warm and wet, - I seem to smell those scents again, - Verbena scents and rain. - - I turn, in hope she ’ll bid me stay. - Again her cameo beauty mark - Set in that smile.--She turns away. - No farewell! no regret! no spark - Of hope to cheer the dark! - - That sepia sketch--conceive it so-- - A jaunty head with mouth and eyes - Tragic beneath a rose-chapeau, - Silk-masked, unmasking--it denies - The look we half surmise, - - We know is there. ’Tis thus we read - The true beneath the false; perceive - The ache beneath the smile.--Indeed! - Whose soul unmasks?... Not mine!--I grieve,-- - Oh God!--but laugh and leave.... - - - VIII - - _He walks aimlessly on_: - - Beyond those knotted apple-trees, - That partly hide the old brick barn, - Its tattered arms and tattered knees - A scarecrow tosses to the breeze - Among the shocks of corn. - - My heart is gray as is the day, - In which the rain-wind drearily - Makes all the rusty branches sway, - And in the hollows, by each way, - The dead leaves rustle wearily. - - And soon we ’ll hear the far wild-geese - Honk in frost-bitten heavens under - Arcturus; when my walks must cease, - And by the fireside’s log-heaped peace - I ’ll sit and nod and ponder.-- - - When every fall of this loud creek - Is silent with the frost; and tented - Brown acres of the corn stretch bleak - And shaggy with the snows, that streak - The hillsides, hollow-dented; - - I ’ll sit and dream of that glad morn - We met by banks with elder snowing; - That dusk we strolled through flower and thorn, - By tasseled meads of cane and corn, - To where the stream was flowing. - - Again I ’ll oar our boat among - The dripping lilies of the river, - To reach her hat, the grape-vine long - Struck in the stream; we ’ll row to song; - And then ... I ’ll wake and shiver. - - Why is it that my mind reverts - To that sweet past? while full of parting - The present is: so full of hurts - And heartache, that what it asserts - Adds only to the smarting. - - How often shall I sit and think - Of that sweet past! through lowered lashes - What-might-have-been trace link by link; - Then watch it gradually sink - And crumble into ashes. - - Outside I ’ll hear the sad wind weep - Like some lone spirit, grieved, forsaken; - Then, shuddering, to bed will creep, - To lie awake, or, haply, sleep - A sleep by visions shaken. - - By visions of the past, that draw - The present in a hue that’s wanting; - A scarecrow thing of sticks and straw,-- - Like that just now I, passing, saw,-- - Its empty tatters flaunting. - - - IX - - _He compares the present day with a past one_: - - The sun a splintered splendor was - In trees, whose waving branches blurred - Its disc, that day we went together, - ’Mid wild-bee hum and whirring buzz - Of locusts, through the fields that purred - With summer in the perfect weather. - - So sweet it was to look, and lean - To her young face and feel the light - Of eyes that met my own unsaddened! - Her laugh that left lips more serene; - Her speech that blossomed like the white - Life-everlasting there and gladdened. - - Maturing summer, you were fraught - With more of beauty then than now - Parades the pageant of September: - Where What-is-now contrasts in thought - With What-was-once, that bloom and bough - Can only help me to remember. - - - X - - _He pauses before a deserted house by the wayside_: - - Through ironweeds and roses - And scraggy beech and oak, - Old porches it discloses - Above the weeds and roses - The drizzling raindrops soak. - - Neglected walks a-tangle - With dodder-strangled grass; - And every mildewed angle - Heaped with dead leaves that spangle - The paths that round it pass. - - The creatures there that bury - Or hide within its rooms - And spidered closets--very - Dim with old webs--will hurry - Out when the evening glooms. - - Owls roost on beam and basement; - Bats haunt its hearth and porch; - And, by each ruined casement, - Flits, in the moon’s enlacement, - The wisp, like some wild torch. - - There is a sense of frost here, - And winds that sigh alway - Of something that was lost here, - Long, long ago was lost here, - But what, they can not say. - - My foot, perhaps, would startle - Some owl that mopes within; - Some bat above its portal, - That frights the daring mortal, - And guards its cellared sin. - - The creaking road winds by it - This side the dusty toll.-- - Why do I stop to eye it? - My heart can not deny it-- - The house is like my soul. - - - XI - - _He proceeds on his way_: - - I bear a burden--look not therein! - Naught will you find save sorrow and sin; - Sorrow and sin that wend with me - Wherever I go. And misery, - A gaunt companion, my wretched bride, - Goes ever with me, side by side. - - Sick of myself and all the earth, - I ask my soul now: Is life worth - The little pleasure that we gain - For all our sorrow and our pain? - The love, to which we gave our best, - That turns a mockery and a jest? - - - XII - - _Among the twilight fields_: - - The things we love, the loveliest things we cherish, - Pass from us soonest, vanish utterly. - Dust are our deeds, and dust our dreams that perish - Ere we can say _They be_! - - I have loved man and learned we are not brothers-- - Within myself, perhaps, may lie the cause;-- - Then set one woman high above all others, - And found her full of flaws. - - Made unseen stars my keblahs of devotion; - Aspired to knowledge, and remained a clod: - With heart and soul, led on by blind emotion, - The way to failure trod. - - Chance, say, or fate, that works through good and evil; - Or destiny, that nothing may retard, - That to some end, above life’s empty level, - Perhaps withholds reward. - - - - - PART IV - - LATE AUTUMN - - They who die young are blest.-- - Should we not envy such?-- - They are Earth’s happiest, - God-loved and favored much!-- - They who die young are blest. - - - I - - _Sick and sad, propped with pillows, she sits at her window_: - - When the dog’s-tooth violet comes - With April showers, - And the wild-bee haunts and hums - About the flowers, - We shall never wend as when - Love laughed leading us from men - Over violet vale and glen, - Where the red-bird sang for hours, - And we heard the flicker drum. - - Now November heavens are gray: - Autumn kills - Every joy--like leaves of May - In the rills.-- - Here I sit and lean and listen - To a voice that has arisen - In my heart; with eyes that glisten - Gazing at the happy hills, - Fading dark blue, far away. - - - II - - _She looks down upon the dying garden_: - - There rank death clutches at the flowers - And drags them down and stamps in earth. - At morn the thin, malignant hours, - Shrill-voiced, among the wind-torn bowers, - Clamor a bitter mirth-- - Or is it heartbreak that, forlorn, - Would so conceal itself in scorn. - - At noon the weak, white sunlight crawls, - Like feeble age, once beautiful, - From mildewed walks to mildewed walls, - Down which the oozing moisture falls - Upon the cold toadstool:-- - Faint on the leaves it drips and creeps-- - Or is it tears of love who weeps? - - At night a misty blur of moon - Slips through the trees,--pale as a face - Of melancholy marble hewn;-- - And, like the phantom of some tune, - Winds whisper in the place-- - Or is it love come back again, - Seeking its perished joy in vain? - - - III - - _She muses upon the past_: - - When, in her cloudy chiton, - Spring freed the frozen rills, - And walked in rainbowed light on - The blossom-blowing hills; - Beyond the world’s horizon, - That no such glory lies on, - And no such hues bedizen, - Love led us far from ills. - - When Summer came, a sickle - Stuck in her sheaf of beams, - And let the honey trickle - From out her bee-hives’ seams; - Within the violet-blotted - Sweet book to us allotted,-- - Whose lines are flower-dotted,-- - Love read us many dreams. - - Then Autumn came,--a liar, - A fair-faced heretic;-- - In gypsy garb of fire, - Throned on a harvest rick.-- - Our lives, that fate had thwarted, - Stood pale and broken-hearted,-- - Though smiling when we parted,-- - Where love to death lay sick. - - Now is the Winter waited, - The tyrant hoar and old, - With death and hunger mated, - Who counts his crimes like gold.-- - Once more, before forever - We part--once more, then never!-- - Once more before we sever, - Must I his face behold! - - - IV - - _She takes up a book and reads_: - - What little things are those - That hold our happiness! - A smile, a glance; a rose - Dropped from her hair or dress; - A word, a look, a touch,-- - These are so much, so much. - - An air we can’t forget; - A sunset’s gold that gleams; - A spray of mignonette, - Will fill the soul with dreams, - More than all history says, - Or romance of old days. - - For, of the human heart, - Not brain, is memory; - These things it makes a part - Of its own entity; - The joys, the pains whereof - Are the very food of love. - - - V - - _She lays down the book, and sits musing_: - - How true! how true!--but words are weak, - In sympathy they give the soul, - To music--music, that can speak - All the heart’s pain and dole; - All that the sad heart treasures most - Of love that ’s lost, of love that ’s lost.-- - I would not hear sweet music now. - My heart would break to hear it now. - - So weary am I, and so fain - To see his face, to feel his kiss - Thrill rapture through my soul again!-- - There is no hell like this!-- - Ah, God! my God, were it not best - To give me rest, to give me rest!-- - Come, death, and breathe upon my brow. - Sweet death, come kiss my mouth and brow. - - - VI - - _She writes to her lover to come to her_: - - Dead lie the dreams we cherished, - The dreams we loved so well; - Like forest leaves they perished, - Like autumn leaves they fell. - Alas! that dreams so soon should pass! - Alas! alas! - - The stream lies bleak and arid, - That once went singing on; - The flowers once that varied - Its banks are dead and gone: - Where these were once are thorns and thirst-- - The place is curst. - - Come to me. I am lonely. - Forget all that occurred. - Come to me; if for only - One last, sad, parting word: - For one last word. Then let the pall - Fall over all. - - The day and hour are suited - For what I ’d say to you - Of love that I uprooted.-- - But I have suffered, too!-- - Come to me; I would say good-by - Before I die. - - - VII - - _The wind rises; the trees are agitated_: - - Woods that beat the wind with frantic - Gestures and sow darkly round - Acorns gnarled and leaves that antic - Wildly on the rustling ground, - - Is it tragic grief that saddens - Through your souls this autumn day? - Or the joy of death that gladdens - In exultance of decay? - - Arrogant you lift defiant - Boughs against the moaning blast, - That, like some invisible giant, - Wrapped in tumult, thunders past. - - Is it that in such insurgent - Fury, tossed from tree to tree, - You would quench the fiercely urgent - Pangs of some old memory? - - As in toil and violent action, - That still help them to forget, - Mortals drown the dark distraction - And insistence of regret. - - - VIII - - _She sits musing in the gathering twilight_: - - Last night I slept till midnight; then woke, and, far away, - A cock crowed; lonely and distant I heard a watch-dog bay: - But lonelier yet the tedious old clock ticked on to’ards day. - - And what a day!--remember those morns of summer and spring, - That bound our lives together! each morn a wedding-ring - Of dew, aroma, and sparkle, and buds and birds a-wing. - - Clear morns, when I strolled my garden, awaiting him, the rose - Expected too, with blushes,--the Giant-of-battle that grows - A bank of radiance and fragrance, and the Maréchal-Niel that glows. - - Not in vain did I wait, departed summer, amid your phlox! - ’Mid the powdery crystal and crimson of your hollow hollyhocks; - Your fairy-bells and poppies, and the bee that in them rocks. - - Cool-clad ’mid the pendulous purple of the morning-glory vine, - By the jewel-mine of the pansies and the snapdragons in line, - I waited, and there he met me whose heart was one with mine. - - Around us bloomed my mealy-white dusty-millers gay, - My lady-slippers, bashful of butterfly and ray; - My gillyflowers, spicy, each one, as a day of May. - - Ah me! when I think of the handfuls of little gold coins, amass, - My bachelor’s-buttons scattered over the garden grass, - The marigolds that boasted their bits of burning brass; - - More bitter I feel the autumn tighten on spirit and heart; - And regret those days, remembered as lost, that stand apart, - A chapter holy and sacred, I read with eyes that smart. - - How warm was the breath of the garden when he met me there that day! - How the burnished beetle and humming-bird flew past us, each a ray!-- - The memory of those meetings still bears me far away: - - Again to the woods a-trysting by the water-mill I steal, - Where the lilies tumble together, the madcap wind at heel; - And meet him among the flowers, the rocks and the moss conceal: - - Or the wild-cat gray of the meadows that the black-eyed Susans dot, - Fawn-eyed and leopard-yellow, that tangle a tawny spot - Of languid panther beauty that dozes, summer-hot.... - - Ah! back again in the present! with the winds that pinch and twist - The leaves in their peevish passion, and whirl wherever they list; - With the autumn, hoary and nipping, whose mausolean mist - - Entombs the sun and the daylight: each morning shaggy with fog, - That fits gray wigs on the cedars, and furs with frost each log; - That velvets white the meadows, and marbles brook and bog.-- - - Alone at dawn--indifferent: alone at eve--I sigh: - And wait, like the wind complaining: complain and know not why: - But ailing and longing and pining because I can not die. - - How dull is that sunset! dreary and cold, and hard and dead! - The ghost of those last August that, mulberry-rich and red, - The wine of God’s own vintage, poured purple overhead. - - But now I sit with the sighing dead dreams of a dying year; - Like the fallen leaves and the acorns, am worthless and feel as sere, - With a soul that ’s sick of the body, whose heart is one big tear. - - As I stare from my window the daylight, like a bravo, its cloak puts on. - The moon, like a cautious lanthorn, glitters, and then is gone.-- - Will he come to-night? will he answer?--Ah, God! would it were dawn! - - - IX - - _He enters. Taking her in his arms he speaks_: - - They said you were dying.-- - You shall not die!... - Why are you crying? - Why do you sigh?-- - Cease that sad sighing!-- - Love, it is I. - - All is forgiven!-- - Love is not poor; - Though he was driven - Once from your door, - Back he has striven, - To part nevermore! - - Will you remember - When I forget - Words, each an ember, - That you regret, - Now in November, - Now we have met? - - What if love wept once! - What though you knew! - What if he crept once - Pleading to you!-- - _He_ never slept once, - Nor was untrue. - - Often forgetful, - Love may forget; - Froward and fretful, - Dear, he will fret; - Ever regretful, - He will regret. - - Life is completer - Through his control; - Lifted, made sweeter, - Filled and made whole, - Hearing love’s metre - Sing in the soul. - - Flesh may not hear it, - Being impure; - But in the spirit, - There we are sure; - There we come near it, - There we endure. - - So when to-morrow - Ceases and we - Quit this we borrow, - Mortality, - What chastens sorrow - So it may see?-- - - (When friends are sighing; - Round one, and one - Nearer is lying, - Nearer the sun, - When one is dying - And all is done? - - When there is weeping, - Weary and deep,-- - God’s be the keeping - Of those who weep!-- - When our loved, sleeping, - Sleep their long sleep?--) - - Love! that is dearer - Than we’re aware; - Bringing us nearer, - Nearer than prayer; - Being the mirror - That our souls share. - - Still you are weeping! - Why do you weep?-- - Are tears in keeping - With joy so deep? - Gladness so sweeping? - Hearts so in keep? - - Speak to me, dearest! - Say it is true! - That I am nearest, - Dearest to you.-- - Smile, with those clearest - Eyes of gray blue. - - - X - - _She smiles on him through her tears; holding his hand she speaks_: - - They did not say I could not live beyond this weary night, - But now I know that I shall die before the morning’s light. - How weak I am!--but you ’ll forgive me when I tell you how - I loved you--love you; and the pain it is to leave you now? - - We could not wed!--Alas! the flesh, that clothes the soul of me, - Ordained at birth a sacrifice to this heredity, - Denied, forbade.--Ah, you have seen the bright spots in my cheeks - Glow hectic, as before comes night the west burns blood-red streaks? - - Consumption.--“But I promised you my hand?”--a thing forlorn - Of life; diseased!--O God!--and so, far better so, forsworn!-- - Oh, I was jealous of your love. But think: if I had died - Ere babe of mine had come to be a solace at your side! - - Had it been little then--your grief, when Heaven had made us one - In everything that’s good on earth and then the good undone? - No! no! and had I had a child--what grief and agony - To know _that_ blight born in him, too, against all help of me! - - Just when we cherished him the most, and youthful, sunny pride - Sat on his curly front, to see him die ere we had died.-- - Whose fault?--Ah, God!--not mine! but his, that ancestor who gave - Escutcheon to our sorrowful house, a Death’s-head and a Grave. - - Beneath the pomp of those grim arms we live and may not move; - Nor faith, nor truth, nor wealth avail to hurl them down, nor love! - How could I tell you this?--not then! when all the world was spun - Of morning colors for our love to walk and dance upon. - - I could not tell you how disease hid here a viper germ, - Precedence slowly claiming and so slowly fixing firm. - And when I broke my plighted troth and would not tell you why, - I loved you, thinking, “time enough when I have come to die.” - - Draw off my rings and let my hands rest so ... the wretched cough - Will interrupt my feeble speech and will not be put off ... - Ah, anyhow, my anodyne is this: to know that you - Are near and love me!--Kiss me now, as you were wont to do. - - And tell me you forgive me all; and say you will forget - The sorrow of that breaking-off, the fever and the fret.-- - Now set those roses near me here, and tell me death’s a lie-- - Once it was hard for me to live ... now it is hard to die. - - - - - PART V - - WINTER - - We, whom God sets a task, - Striving, who ne’er attain, - We are the curst!--who ask - Death, and still ask in vain. - We, whom God sets a task. - - - I - - _In the silence of his room. After many days_: - - All, all are shadows. All must pass - As writing in the sand or sea: - Reflections in a looking-glass - Are not less permanent than we. - - The days that mold us--what are they? - That break us on their whirling wheel? - What but the potters! we the clay - They fashion and yet leave unreal. - - Linked through the ages, one and all, - In long anthropomorphous chain, - The human and the animal - Inseparably must remain. - - Within us still the monstrous shape - That shrieked in air and howled in slime, - What are we?--partly man and ape-- - The tools of fate, the toys of time! - - - II - - _The bitterness of his bereavement speaks in him_: - - Vased in her bedroom window, white - As her glad girlhood, never lost, - I smelt the roses--and the night - Outside was fog and frost. - - What though I claimed her dying there! - God nor one angel understood - Nor cared, who from sweet feet to hair - Had changed to snow her blood. - - She had been mine so long, so long! - Our harp of life was one in word-- - Why did death thrust his hand among - The chords and break one chord! - - What lily lilier than her face! - More virgin than her lips I kissed! - When morn, like God, with gold and grace, - Broke massed in mist! broke massed in mist! - - - III - - _Her dead face seems to rise up before him_: - - The face that I said farewell to, - Pillowed a flower on flowers, - Comes back, with its eyes to tell to - My soul what my heart should quell to - Calm, that is mine at hours. - - Dear, is your soul still daggered - There by something amiss? - Love--is _he_ ever laggard? - Hope--is _her_ face still haggard? - Tell me what it is! - - You, who are done with to-morrow! - Done with these worldly skies! - Done with our pain and sorrow! - Done with the griefs we borrow! - Joys that are born of sighs! - - Must we say “gone forever?” - Or will it all come true? - Does mine touch your thought ever? - And, over the doubts that sever, - Rise to the fact that ’s you? - - Love, in my flesh so fearful, - Medicine me this pain!-- - Love, with the eyes so tearful, - How can my soul be cheerful, - Seeing its joy is slain!... - - Gone!--’t was only a vision!-- - Gone! like a thought, a gleam!-- - Such to our indecision - Utter no empty mission;-- - Truth is in all we dream! - - - IV - - _He sinks into deep thought_: - - There are shadows that compel us, - There are powers that control: - More than substance these can tell us, - Speaking to the human soul. - - In the moonlight, when it glistened - On my window, white of glow, - Once I woke and, leaning, listened - To a voice that sang below. - - Full of gladness, full of yearning, - Strange with dreamy melody, - Like a bird whose heart was burning, - Wildly sweet it sang to me. - - I arose; and by the starlight, - Pale beneath the summer sky, - There I saw it, full of far light,-- - My dead joy go singing by. - - In the darkness, when the glimmer - Of the storm was on the pane, - Once I sat and heard a dimmer - Voice lamenting in the rain. - - Full of parting and unspoken - Heartbreak, faint with agony, - Like a bird whose heart was broken, - Moaning low it cried to me. - - I arose; and in the darkness, - Wan beneath the winter sky, - There I saw it, cold to starkness,-- - My dead love go wailing by. - - - V - - _He arouses from his abstraction, buries his face in his hands and - thinks_: - - So long it seems since last I saw her face, - So long ago it seems, - Like some sad soul in unconjectured space, - Still seeking happiness through perished grace - And unrealities, a little while - Illusions lead me, ending in the smile - Of Death, triumphant in a thorny place, - Among Love’s ruined roses and dead dreams. - - Since she is gone, no more I feel the light,-- - Since she has left all dark,-- - Cleave, with its revelation, all the night. - I wander blindly, on a crumbling height, - Among the fragments and the wrecks and stones - Of Life, where Hope, amid Life’s skulls and bones, - With weary face, disheartened, wild and white, - Trims her pale lamp with its expiring spark. - - Now she is dead, the Soul, naught can o’erawe,-- - Now she is gone from me,-- - Questions God’s justice that seems full of flaw, - As is His world, where misery is law, - And all men fools, too willing to be slaves.-- - My House of Faith, built up on dust of graves, - The wind of doubt sweeps down as made of straw, - And all is night and I no longer see. - - - VI - - _He looks from his window toward the sombre west_: - - Ridged and bleak the gray, forsaken - Twilight at the night has guessed; - And no star of dusk has taken - Flame unshaken in the west. - - All day long the woodlands, dying, - Moaned, and drippings as of grief - Rained from barren boughs with sighing - Death of flying twig and leaf. - - Ah, to live a life unbroken - Of the flings and scorns of fate! - Like that tree, with branches oaken, - Strength’s unspoken intimate.-- - - Who can say that we have never - Lived the life of plants and trees?-- - Not so wide the lines that sever - Us forever here from these. - - Colors, odors, that are cherished, - Haply hint we once were flowers: - Memory alone has perished - In this garnished world that’s ours. - - Music,--that all things expresses, - All for which we’ve sought and sinned,-- - Haply in our treey tresses - Once was guesses of the wind. - - But I dream!--The dusk, dark braiding - Locks that lack both moon and star, - Deepens; and, the darkness aiding, - Earth seems fading, faint and far. - - And within me doubt keeps saying-- - “What is wrong, and what is right? - Hear the cursing! hear the praying! - All are straying on in night.” - - - VII - - _He turns from the window, takes up a book, and reads_: - - The soul, like Earth, hath silences - Which speak not, yet are heard: - The voices mute of memories - Are louder than a word. - - Theirs is a speech which is not speech; - A language that is bound - To soul-vibrations, vague, that reach - Deeper than any sound. - - No words are theirs. They speak through things, - A visible utterance - Of thoughts--like those some sunset brings, - Or withered rose, perchance. - - The heavens that once, in purple and flame, - Spake to two hearts as one, - In after years may speak the same - To one sad heart alone. - - Through it the vanished face and eyes - Of her, the sweet and fair, - Of her the lost, again shall rise - To comfort his despair. - - And so the love that led him long - From golden scene to scene, - Within the sunset is a tongue - That speaks of what has been.-- - - How loud it speaks of that dead day, - The rose whose bloom is fled! - Of her who died; who, clasped in clay, - Lies numbered with the dead. - - The dead are dead; with them ’tis well - Within their narrow room;-- - No memories haunt their hearts who dwell - Within the grave and tomb. - - But what of those--the dead who live! - The living dead, whose lot - Is still to love--ah, God forgive!-- - To live and love, forgot! - - - VIII - - _The storm is heard sounding wildly outside with wind and hail_: - - The night is wild with rain and sleet; - Each loose-warped casement claps or groans: - I hear the plangent woodland beat - The tempest with long blatant moans, - Like one who fears defeat. - - And sitting here beyond the storm, - Alone within the lonely house, - It seems that some mesmeric charm - Holds all things--even the gnawing mouse - Has ceased its faint alarm. - - And in the silence, stolen o’er - Familiar objects, lo, I fear-- - I fear--that, opening yon door, - I ’ll find my dead self standing near, - With face that once I wore. - - The stairway creaks with ghostly gusts: - The flue moans; all its gorgon throat - One wail of winds: ancestral dusts,-- - Which yonder Indian war-gear coat - With gray, whose quiver rusts,-- - - Are shaken down.--Or, can it be, - That he who wore it in the dance, - Or battle, now fills shadowy - Its wampumed skins? and shakes his lance - And spectral plume at me?-- - - Mere fancy!--Yet those curtains toss - Mysteriously as if some dark - Hand moved them.--And I would not cross - The shadow there, that hearthstone’s spark, - A glow-worm sunk in moss. - - Outside ’t were better!--Yes, I yearn - To walk the waste where sway and dip - Deep, dark December boughs--where burn - Some late last leaves, that drip and drip - No matter where you turn. - - Where sodden soil, you scarce have trod, - Fills oozy footprints--but the blind - Night there, though like the frown of God, - Presents no fancies to the mind, - Like those that have o’erawed.-- - - The months I count: how long it seems - Since summer! summer, when with her, - When on her porch, in rainy gleams - We watched the flickering lightning stir - In heavens gray as dreams. - - When all the west, a sheet of gold, - Flared,--like some Titan’s opened forge,-- - With storm; revealing, manifold, - Vast peaks of clouds with crag and gorge, - Where thunder-torrents rolled. - - Then came the wind: again, again - Storm lit the instant earth--and how - The forest rang with roaring rain!-- - We could not read--where is it now?-- - That tale of Charlemagne: - - That old romance! that tale, which we - Were reading; till we heard the plunge - Of distant thunder sullenly, - And left to watch the lightning lunge, - And storm-winds toss each tree. - - That summer!--How it built us there, - Of sorcery and necromance, - A mental-world, where all was fair; - A land like one great pearl, a-trance - With lilied light and air. - - Where every flower was a thought; - And every bird, a melody; - And every fragrance, zephyr brought, - Was but the rainbowed drapery - Of some sweet dream long sought. - - ’Mid which we reared our heart’s high home, - Fair on the hills; with terraces, - Vine-hung and wooded, o’er the foam - Of undiscovered fairy seas, - All violet in the gloam. - - O land of shadows! shadow-home, - Within my world of memories! - Around whose ruins sweeps the foam - Of sorrow’s immemorial seas, - To whose dark shores I come! - - How long in your wrecked halls, alone - With ghosts of joys must I remain? - Between the unknown and the known, - Still hearing through the wind and rain - My lost love moan and moan. - - - IX - - _He sits by the slowly dying fire. The storm is heard with increased - violence_: - - Wild weather. The lash of the sleet - On the gusty casement, clapping-- - The sound of the storm like a sheet - My soul and senses wrapping. - - Wild weather. And how is she, - Now the rush of the rain falls serried - There on the turf and the tree - Of the place where she is buried? - - Wild weather. How black and deep - Is the night where the mad winds scurry!-- - Do I sleep? do I dream in my sleep - That I hear her footsteps hurry? - - Hither they come like flowers-- - And I see her raiment glisten, - Like the robes of one of the hours - Where the stars to the angels listen. - - Before me, behold, how she stands! - With lips high thoughts have weighted, - With testifying hands, - And eyes with glory sated. - - I have spoken and I have kneeled: - I have kissed her feet in wonder-- - But, lo! her lips--they are sealed, - God-sealed, and will not sunder. - - Though I sob, “Your stay was long! - You are come,--but your feet were laggard!-- - With mansuetude and song - For the heart your death has daggered.” - - Never a word replies, - Never, to all my weeping-- - Only a sound of sighs, - And of raiment past me sweeping.... - - I wake; and a clock tolls three-- - And the night and the storm beat serried - There on the turf and the tree - Of the place where she is buried. - - - - - RED LEAVES AND ROSES - - - I - - And he had lived such loveless years - That suffering had made him wise; - And she had known no graver tears - Than those of girlhood’s eyes. - - And he, perhaps, had loved before-- - One, who had wedded, or had died;-- - So life to him had been but poor - In love for which he sighed. - - In years and heart she was so young - Love paused and beckoned at the gate, - And bade her hear his songs, unsung; - She laughed that “love must wait.” - - He understood. She only knew - Love’s hair was faded, face was gray-- - Nor saw the rose his autumn blew - There in her heedless way. - - - II - - If he had come to her when May - Danced down the wildwood,--every way - Marked with white flow’rs, as if her gown - Had torn and fallen,--it might be - She had not met him with a frown, - Nor used his love so bitterly. - - Or if he had but come when June - Set stars and roses to one tune, - And breathed in honeysuckle throats - Clove-honey of her spicy mouth, - His heart had found some loving notes - In hers to cheer his life’s long drouth. - - He came when Fall made mad the sky, - And on the hills leapt like a cry - Of battle; when his youth was dead; - To _her_, the young, the wild, the white; - Whose symbol was the rose, blood-red, - And his the red leaf pinched with blight. - - He might have known, since youth was flown, - And autumn claimed him for its own; - And winter neared with snow, wild whirled, - His love to her would seem absurd; - To youth like hers; whose lip had curled - Yet heard him to his last sad word. - - Then laughed and--well, his heart denied - The words he uttered then in pride; - And he remembered how the gray - Was his of autumn, ah! and hers, - The rose-hued colors of the May, - And May was all her universe. - - And then he left her: and, like blood, - In her deep hair, the rose; whose bud - Was badge to her: while unto him, - His middle-age, must still remain - The red-leaf, withering at the rim, - As symbol of the all-in-vain. - - - III - - “Such days as these,” she said, and bent - Among her marigolds, all dew, - And dripping zinnia stems, “were meant - For spring not autumn; days we knew - In childhood; _these_ endearing those; - Much dearer since they have grown old: - Days, once imperfect with the rose, - Now perfect with the marigold.” - - “Such days as these,” he said, and gazed - Long with unlifted eyes that held - Sad autumn nights, “our hopes have raised - In futures that are mist-enspelled. - And so it is the fog blows in - Days dearer for the death they paint - With hues of life and joy,--as sin, - At death, puts off all earthly taint.” - - - IV - - Like deeds of hearts that have not kept - Their riches, as a miser, when - Sad souls have asked, with eyes that wept, - Among the toiling tribes of men, - The summer days gave Earth sweet alms - In silver of white lilies, while - Each night, with healing, outstretched palms - Stood Christ-like with its starry smile. - - Will she remember him when dull - Months drag their duller hours by? - With feet that crush the beautiful - And leave the beautiful to die? - Or never see? nor sit with lost - Dreams withered, ’mid hope’s empty husks, - And wait, heart-counting-up the cost - Of love’s illusions ’mid life’s dusks? - - - V - - He is as one who, treading salty scurf - Of lonely sea-sands, hears the roaring rocks - Of some lost isle of misty crags and lochs; - Who sees no sea, but, through a world of surf, - Gray ghosts of gulls and screaming petrel flocks: - When, from the deep’s white ruin and wild wreck, - Above the fog, beneath the ghostly gull, - The iron ribs of some storm-shattered hull - Loom, packed with pirate treasure to the deck - A century rotten: feels his wealth replete, - When long-baulked ocean claims it; and one dull - Wave flings, derisive at despondent feet, - A skull, one doubloon rattling in the skull. - - - VI - - And when full autumn sets the dahlia stems - On fire with flowers, and the chill dew turns - The maple trees, above geranium urns, - To Emir tents, and strings with flawless gems - The moon-flower and the wahoo-bush that burns; - Calmly she sees the year grow sad and strange, - And stands with one among the wilted walks - Of the old garden of the gray, old grange, - And feels no sorrow for the frost-maimed stalks - Since--though the wailing autumn to her talks-- - Youth marks swift spring on life’s far mountain-range. - Or she will lean to her old harpsichord; - A youthful face beside her; and the glow - Of hickory on the hearth will balk the blow - Of blustering rain that beats the casement hard; - And sing of summer and so thwart the snow. - - “Haply, some day, she yet may sit alone,” - He thinks, “within the shadow-saddened house, - When round the gables stormy echoes moan, - And in the closet gnaws the lonesome mouse; - And Memory come stealing down the stair - From dusty attics where is piled the Past-- - Like so much rubbish that we hate to keep-- - And turn the knob; and, framed in frosty hair, - A grave, forgotten face look in at last, - And she will know, and bow her head and weep.” - - - - - WILD THORN AND LILY - - - I - - That night, returning to the farm, we rode - Before a storm. Uprolling from the west, - Incessant with distending fire, loomed - The multitudes of tempest: towering here - A shadowy Shasta, there a cloudy Hood, - Veined as with agonies, aurora-born, - Of torrent gold; resplendent heaven to heaven, - Far peak to peak, terrific spoke; the vast - Sierras of the storm, within which beat - The caverned thunder like a mighty stream: - Vibrating on, with rushing wind and flame, - Now th’ opening welkin shone, one livid sheet - Of instantaneous gold, a giant’s forge, - Wild-clanging; now, with streak on angled streak - Of momentary light, a labyrinth - Where shouting Darkness stalked with Titan torch: - Again the firmament hung hewn with fire - Whence leapt the thunder; and it seemed that hosts - Of Heaven rushed to war with blazing shields - And swords of splendor. And before the storm - We galloped, while the frantic trees above - Went wild with rain, through whose mad limbs and leaves - Splashed black the first big drops. On, on we drove, - And gained the gates, pillaring the avenue - Of ancient beech, at whose far, flickering end, - At last, beaconed the lights of home. - - And she? - Was it the lightning that lent lividness - And terror to her countenance? or fear - Of her own heart? revulsion? memory? - Did deep regret, that, now the thing _was_ done, - That she was mine, a yearning to be free, - Away from me, assail her? or, the thought, - The knowledge, that she did not love the man - Whom she had wedded? knowing better now - That all her heart was Julien’s from the first, - And would be Julien’s until the end. - And did she now look backward on the past? - Or forward--on the barrier that the church - For all the future years had placed between - The possible and impossible? God knows! - - Yet I had won her honestly with words - Love, only, uttered out of its soul’s truth; - Had won her--was it openly?--perhaps!-- - Although engaged to Julien.--What else - Had led us to elopement?--Well, ’t was done! - The whole, mad, lovely, miserable affair - Of love and youthful folly. Being done - We must abide the reckoning. That is, - _I_ would; and she?--she saw her duty there - Beside her husband. And within myself, - When we alighted from the carriage, thus,-- - Beneath the porch,--my mind resolved the thing: - “I am her husband now, and she my wife. - Less than her husband, I, much less a man, - Were I not able to regain and keep - The love she gave me, that she thinks is his, - That is not his. ’T is pity merely now - That makes her pensive. I am pensive, too, - For Julien, the poet and the friend; - The dreamer and the lover.--But all ’s fair - In love they say; and I,--well, willingly - I’ll bear the burthen of the blame of all.” - Scarce had we entered when high heaven oped - Vast gates of bronze and doors of booming brass - That dammed a deluge, and the deluge poured.-- - I thought of him still; for I felt that she - Was thinking too of Julien and his moods, - That often swept his soul with storm like this, - Yet oftener with sunlight than with storm; - That soul of sun and tempest, ray and rain, - My school-friend Julien! whom once she won - To think she loved--I know not how. My play - Was open as the morning, and as fair. - His poverty and genius here, and here - My wealth and--platitude; and I had won. - But it was hard for him. I did not dream - That it would end so. And when Gwendolyn - Used every gentleness--and that is much-- - I did not dream his poet’s temperament - Were so affected of a love affair, - A wrong or right; he, whose sole aim seemed song. - I did not dream he ’d take it desperately, - And end so tragically. Who ’d have thought - His character, although so sensitive, - Would fall into extremes of morbidness - And melancholy! Had it now been I, - Whose heart had lost in the great game of love, - None would have wondered; for I am of those - Whose vigorous iron does not bend, but break - At one decisive blow: _his_ should have sprung-- - Or so I think, not broken as it had-- - Elastic as fine-tempered steel that bends - And then resumes its usual usefulness. - - A pale smile strained the corners of her mouth - When, from the porch, into the parlor’s blaze - I led her. And her mother met us there, - Her mother and her father. And I saw - The slow reflection of their happiness - Make glad her eyes, as their approval grew - From half-severe rebukes, that were well meant, - To open, glad avowal of their joy. - She had done well, and we were soon forgiven.... - - But I resumed _his_ letter when alone: - His letter written her three months before, - When all was over, and we two were one, - And well upon our way to Italy - For six sweet months of honeymoon. His word, - His letter, all of her, that came to me - At Venice, that I opened in mistake, - Amid a lot of papers sent from home. - She had not read, and never should while I - Had power to conceal until I ’d read. - I would not let the dead scrawl mar or soil - My late-won joy, my testament of love. - No! I would read it, afterwards destroy. - Thoughts made of music for a last farewell, - When he knew all and asked her to perpend - Expressions of past things her gift of love - Had given speech to in the happy days. - And so I read:-- - - - II - - “The rhyme is mine, but yours - The thought and all the music, springing from - The rareness of the love that dawned on me - A little while to make my sad life glad. - Should I regret the sunset it refused, - Since all my morn was richer than the world? - Or that my day should stride without a change - Of crimson, or of purple, or of gold, - Into the barren blackness where the moon - And all God’s stars lay dead? Should I complain, - Upbraid or censure or one moment curse, - _I_ with my morning? ’T is a memory - That stains the midnight now: one wild-rose ray - Laid like a finger pointing me the path - I follow, and I go rejoicingly. - - Our love was very young (nor had it aged-- - If we had lived long lifetimes--here in me), - When one day, strolling in the sun, you spoke - Words I perceived should hint a coming change: - I made three stanzas of the thought, you see: - But now ’t is like the sea-shell that suggests, - And still associates us with the sea - In its vague song and elfland workmanship. - Yet it has lost a something that it had - There by the far sand’s foaming; something rare, - A different beauty like an element: - - I wonder on what life will do - When love is loser of all love; - When life still longs to love anew - And has not love enough:-- - I ’ll turn my heart into a ray, - And wait--a day? - - I wonder on what love will hold - When life is weary of all life; - And life and love have both grown old - With scars of sin and strife:-- - I’ll change my soul into a flower, - And wait--an hour? - - I wonder on why men forget - The life that love made laugh; and why - Weak women will remember yet - The life that love made sigh:-- - I’ll sing my thought into a song, - And wait--how long? - - - III - - “And once you questioned of our mocking-bird, - And of the German nightingale, and I - Knowing a sweeter bird than those sweet two, - Made fast associates of birds and brooks - And learned their numbers. Middle April made - The path of lilac leading to your porch - A rift of fallen Paradise; a blue - So full of fragrance that the birds that built - Among the lilacs thought that God was there, - And of God’s goodness they would sing and sing, - Till every throat seemed bursting with its song, - Note on wild note, diviner each than each. - And waiting by the gate, that reached the lane, - For you, who gave sweet eloquence to all, - The afternoon, the lilacs and the spring, - My heart was singing and it sang of you: - - Two glow-worms are the jewels in - Her ears; and underneath her chin - A diamond like a firefly: - There is no starlight in the sky - When Gwendolyn stands in the maze - Of woodbine, near the portico; - For all the stars are in her gaze, - The night and stars I know. - - A clinging dream of mist the lawn - She wears; and like a bit of dawn - Her fan with one red jewel pinned: - Among the boughs there breathes no wind - When Gwendolyn comes down the path - Of lilacs from the portico; - For all the breeze her coming hath, - The beam and breeze I know. - - Two locust-blooms her hands; and slips - Of eglantine her cheeks and lips; - Her hair, a hyacinth of gloom: - The balmy buds give no perfume - When Gwendolyn draws near to me, - The gate beyond the portico; - For all aroma sweet is she, - All fragrance that I know. - - Life, love, and faith are in her face, - And in her presence all their grace: - And my religion is a word, - A wish of hers. No mocking-bird, - When Gwendolyn laughs near, dare float - One bubble from the portico; - For all of song is in her throat, - All music that I know. - - - IV - - “The mocking-bird! and then weird fancy filled - My soul with vision, and I saw a song - Pursue a bird that was no bird--a voice - Concealed in dim expressions of the spring,-- - Who sits among the forests and the fields, - With dark-blue eyes smiling to life the flowers,-- - Where we strolled happy as the April hills: - - A sunbeam, all the day that fell - Upon the fountain,-- - Like laughter gurgling in the dell - Below the mountain,-- - Drank, with its sparkle, one by one, - The water-words that, in the sun, - Made melody,--the sun-rays tell,-- - That never yet was done. - - A moon-ray, that had gone astray - ’Mid wildwood alleys, - Where Echo haunts the forest way - Among the valleys, - The livelong night upon the rocks - Slept, hid among girl Echo’s locks, - And stole her voice,--the moonbeams say,-- - That mocks and only mocks. - - A shadow, that had made its seat - Amid the roses - And thorns--the bitter and the sweet - That life discloses-- - Mixed with the rose-balm and the dew - And crimson thorns that pierced it through, - Until its soul,--the shades repeat,-- - Was portion of them, too. - - A Fairy found the beam of gold, - And ray of glitter; - The shadow, whose dim soul did hold - Both sweet and bitter; - And made a bird, that haunts the morn - And night; that flits from flower to thorn, - A voice of laughter,--it is told,-- - Love, mockery, and scorn. - - - V - - “Among the white haw-blossoms, where the creek - Droned under drifts of dogwood and of haw, - The red-bird, like a crimson blossom blown - Against the snow-white bosom of the Spring, - The chaste confusion of her lawny breast, - Sang on, prophetic of serener days, - As confident as June’s completer hours. - And I stood listening like a hind, who hears - A wood-nymph breathing in a forest flute - Among gray beech-trees of myth-haunted ways: - And when it ceased, the memory of the air - Blew like a syrinx in my brain: I made - A lyric of the notes that men might know: - - He flies with flirt and fluting-- - As flies a falling star - From flaming star-beds shooting shooting-- - From where the roses are. - - Wings past and sings; and seven - Notes, sweet as fragrance is,-- - That turn to sylphs in heaven,-- - Float round him full of bliss. - - He sings; each burning feather - Thrills, throbbing at his throat; - A song of glow-worm weather, - And of a firefly boat: - - Of Elfland and a princess - Who, born of a perfume, - His music lulls,--where winces - That rose’s cradled bloom. - - No bird is half so airy, - No bird of dusk or dawn, - O masking King of Fairy! - O red-crowned Oberon. - - - VI - - “Alas! the nightingale I never heard. - Yet I, remembering how your voice would thrill - Me with exalted expectation, felt - The passion-throated nightingale would win - Into my soul in some wild way like this, - With reminiscences of dusks long dead, - Presentiments of nights, that mate the flowers - And the prompt stars, and marry them with song. - Of such,--love whispered me when deep in dreams,-- - I made my nightingale. It is a voice - Heard in the April of our year of love: - - Between the stars and roses - There lies a path no man may see, - Where every breeze that blows is - A wandering melody; - Down which each bright star gazes - Upon each rose that raises - Its face up lovingly, - As if with prayers and praises. - - The star and rose are wiser - Than all but love beneath the skies; - No hoard of any miser - Is rich as these are wise: - No bee may reach or rifle, - No mist may cloud or stifle - Their love that never dies, - That knows nor trick nor trifle. - - There is a bird that carries - Love-messages; and comes and goes - Between each star that tarries, - And every rose that blows: - A bird that can not tire, - Whose throat ’s a throbbing lyre, - Whose song is now a rose, - And now a starry fire. - - - VII - - “O May-time woods! O May-time lanes and hours! - And stars, that knew how often there at night - Beside the path, where woodbine odors blew - Between the drowsy eyelids of the dusk,-- - When, like a great, white, pearly moth, the moon - Hung, silvering long windows of your room,-- - I stood among the shrubs! The dark house slept. - I watched and waited for--I know not what-- - Some tremor of your gown: a velvet leaf’s - Unfolding to caresses of the spring: - A rustle of your footsteps: or the dew - That softly rolled, a syllable of love, - In sweet avowal, from a rose’s lips - Of odorous scarlet: or the whispered word - Of something lovelier than new leaf or rose-- - The word young lips half murmur in a dream: - - Serene with sleep, light visions load her eyes; - And underneath her window blooms a quince. - The night is a sultana who doth rise - In slippered caution, to admit a prince, - Love, who her eunuchs and her lord defies. - - Are these her dreams? or is it that the breeze - Pelts me with petals of the quince, and lifts - The Balm-of-Gilead buds? and seems to squeeze - Aroma on aroma through sweet rifts - Of Eden, dripping from the rainy trees? - - Along the path the buckeye trees begin - To heap their hills of blossoms.--Oh, that they - Were Romeo ladders, whereby I might win - Her chamber’s sanctity,--where love must pray - And guard her soul!--so stainless of all sin! - - There might I see the balsam scent erase - Its sweet intrusion; and the starry night - Conclude majestic pomp; the virgin grace - Of every bud abashed before the white, - Pure passion-flower of her sleeping face. - - - VIII - - “And once, in early May, a sparrow sang - Among the garden bushes; and you asked - If the suave song stayed knocking at my heart. - I smiled some answer, and, behold, that night - Found that my heart had locked this fancy in: - - Rain, rain, and a ribbon of song - Uncurled where the blossoms are sprinkled; - The song-sparrow sings, and I long - For, the silver-sweet throat, that has tinkled, - To sing in the bloom and the rain, - Sing again, and again, and again, - Under my window-pane. - - Rain, rain, and the trickling tips - Of the million pink blooms of the quinces; - And I hear the song rill from the lips, - The lute-haunted lips of my princess: - O love! in the rain and the bloom, - Sing again in the pelting perfume, - Sweetheart, under my room. - - Rain, rain, and the dripping of drops - From cups of the blossoms they load, or - Tilt over with tipsiest tops: - And eyes as of sun-beam and odor, - There, under the bloom-blowing tree-- - A face like a flower to see, - Love is looking at me. - - - IX - - “Once in the village I had heard a song, - A melody which I wrote down for you, - And which you sang. But, there among your hills, - The dawns and sunsets and the serious stars - Made trite its thought and words, that seemed as stale - As musty parlors of the commonplace. - I changed its words, and here and there its thought, - But, though you praised, you never sang it more, - And so I knew, like some poor poet, it - Had fallen on disfavor, God knows why, - With its high patron. Thus its metre ran: - Look, happy eyes, and let me know - The timid flower her love hath cherished - Fades not before the fruit shall show, - Seen in the clear truth of your glow - Where naught of love hath perished. - - Lift, happy lips, and let me take - The sacred secret of her spirit - To mine in kisses, that shall make - Mute marriage of our souls, and wake - The heart’s sweet silence near it. - - - X - - “And so I wrote another filled with birds, - Deliberate twilight and eve’s punctual star; - And made the music of that song obey - The metre of my own and melody: - - Only to hear that you love me, - Only to feel it is true; - Stars and the gloaming above me, - I in the gloaming with you. - Staining through violet fire, - A sunset of poppy and gold, - Red as a heart with desire, - Rich with a secret untold. - - Deep where the shadows are doubled, - Deep where the blossoms are long, - Listen!--deep love in the bubbled - Breath of a mocking-bird’s song. - You, who have made them the dearer, - Drawing them near from afar!-- - Stars and the heaven the nearer, - Sweet, through the joy that you are. - - - XI - - “Confronted with the certainty that I - Had no approval for my love from you, - No visible sign, but my own prompting hope’s, - Conforming with my heart’s one wild desire, - Who had not dreaded disappointment there! - The shadow of a heart’s unformed denial, - That should take form and soon confirm the doubt: - The doubt that would content itself with this: - - If I might hold her by the hand,-- - Her hands so full of soothing peace!-- - Her heart would hear and understand - My heart’s demand, - And all her idling cease. - - If she would let my eyes look in - Her eyes, whose deeps are full of truth, - Her soul might see how mine would win - Her, without sin, - In all her happy youth. - - If I might kiss her mouth, and lead - The kiss up to her eyes and hair, - There is no prayer that so could plead,-- - And find sure heed,-- - My love’s divine despair. - - - XII - - “And, uninstructed, smiled and wrote ‘despair,’ - Enamoured, yet fearful of the shade that should - Some day come stealing through my silent door - To sit unbidden through the lonely hours.-- - I cast the shudder off, and in the fields - Found hope again, and beauty born of dreams: - For it was summer, and all living things, - The common flowers and the birds and bees, - Became interpreters of love for me: - - Say that he can not tell her how he loves her-- - Words, for such adoration, often fail,-- - When but a bow of ribbon, glove that gloves her, - Clothes her fair femininity in mail. - - So many ways and wisdoms to express what - To th’ language of devotion is denied; - Ambassadors to make the maiden guess what - Before her heart’s high fortress long has sighed. - - A bird to sing his secret--she’ll perpend him: - A bee to bid her soul to hear and see: - A blossom, like a sweet appeal, to bend him, - Before her there, upon a worshiping knee. - - - XIII - - “So was my love confessed to you. I thought - You loved me as love led me to believe: - And so, no matter where I, dreaming, went - Among the hills, the woods, and quiet fields, - All had a poetry so intimate, - So happy and so ready that, for me, - ’Twas but to stoop and gather as I went, - As one goes reaching roses in the June. - Three withered wild ones that I gathered then - I send you now. Their scent and bloom are dust: - - - 1 - - What wild-flower shows perfection - Such as thy face, no blemish mars? - I leave to the selection - Of all the wild-flower stars: - To every wildwood bloom that blows, - Wild phlox, wild daisy, and wild rose. - - What cascade hath suspicion - O’ the marvel that thy whiteness is? - I leave to the decision - Of each proclaiming breeze: - To winds that kiss the buds awake, - And roll the ripple on the lake. - - What bird can sing the naming - Of all the music that thou art? - I leave to the proclaiming - Of that within my heart: - My heart, wherein, the whole day long, - Sits adoration rapt in song. - - - 2 - - What witch then hast thou met, - Who wrought this amulet? - This charm, that makes each look, love, - Of thine a rose; - Thy face an open book, love, - Where beauty gleams and glows, - And thought to music set. - - What fairy of the wood, - To whom thou once wast good, - Gave thee this gift?--Thy words, love, - Should be pure gold; - And all thy songs as bird’s, love, - Sweet as the Mays of old - With youth and love imbued. - - What elfin of the glade - This white enchantment made, - That filled thee with the essence - Of all the Junes? - That made thy soul, thy presence, - Like to the moon’s - Above a far cascade. - - What wizard of the cave - Hath made my heart thy slave? - That dreams of thee when sleeping, - And, when awake, - My anxious spirit keeping - ’Neath spells I can not break, - Sweet spells, whence naught can save. - - 3 - - Dear, (though given conclusion to), - Songs,--no memory surrenders,-- - Still their music breathe in you; - Silence meditation renders - Audible with notes it knew. - - Sweet, when all the flowers are dead, - Perfumes,--that the heart remembers - Made of them a marriage-bed,-- - Shall not fail me in December’s - Gloom, but from your face be shed. - - Dear, when night denies a star, - Darkness will not suffer, seeing - Song and fragrance are not far; - Starlight of the summer being - In the loveliness you are. - - - XIV - - “Revealing distant vistas where I thought - I saw your love stand as ’mid lily blooms, - Long, angel goblets molded out of stars, - Pouring aroma at your feet: and life - Took fire with thoughts your soul must help you read: - - A song; and songs (who does not know?) - Reveal no music but is thine. - Thou singest, and the waters flow, - The breezes blow, - The sunbeams shine, - And all the earth grows young, divine. - - Low laughter; and I look away; - Whate’er the time of year, I dream - I walk beneath sweet skies of May - On ways where play - Both gloom and gleam, - And hear a bird and forest stream. - - A thought; and straight it seems to me, - However dark, the stars arise, - And rain down memories of thee,-- - As, it may be, - From Paradise - One feels an angel-lover’s eyes. - - - XV - - “But is it well to tell you what I felt - When I beheld no change beyond the moods - That gloomed or glistened in your raven eyes? - When I sat singing ’neath one steadfast star - Of morning with no phantoms of strange fears - To slay the look or word that helped me sing: - When song came easier than come buds in spring, - That make the barren boughs one pomp of pearls: - - Oh, let the happy day go past, - And let the night be short or long, - When life and love are one at last, - And hearts are full of song, - ’Tis sweet midsummer of the dream, - And all the dreams thou hast - Are truer than they seem. - - And once I dreamt in autumn of - Death with cadaverous eyes that gazed - From out a shadow.... It was love - Whose deathless eyes were raised - From the deep darkness that unrolled - Wild splendor; and, amazed, - Thy soul I did behold. - - And then it seemed that some one said, - The dead are nearer than dost know. - And when they tell thee love is dead,-- - Although it seems ’t is so,-- - Still shalt thou feel in every beat - And heart-throb of thy woe - Love breathing, bitter-sweet. - - - XVI - - “One evening when I came to talk with you, - Impatience hurt me in your brief replies. - And I who had refused,--because we dread - Approaching horror of our lives made maimed,-- - The inevitable, could not help but see - Some change in you to’ards me.--That night I dreamed - I wandered ’mid old ruins, where the snake - And scorpion crawled in poison-spotted heat; - Plague-bloated bulks of hideous vine and root - Wrapped fallen fanes; and bristling cacti bloomed - Blood-red and death-white on forgotten tombs. - And from my soul went forth a bitter cry - That pierced the silence that was packed with death - And pale presentiment. And so I went, - A white flame beckoning before my face, - And in my ears sounds of primordial seas - That boasted preadamic gods and men: - A flame before me and, beyond, a voice: - But, lo, the white flame when I reached for it - Became thin ashes like a dead man’s dust; - And when I thought I should behold the sea, - Stagnation, turned to filth and rottenness, - Rolled out a swamp: the voice became a stench. - - If we should pray together now - For sunshine and for rain, - And thou shouldst get fair weather now, - And I the clouds again, - Would ray and rain keep single, - Or for the rainbow mingle? - - Dear, if this should be made to me, - That I had asked for light, - And God had given shade to me, - And all to thee that’s bright, - Wouldst thou go by with scorning, - Refusing darkness morning? - - If all my life were winter, love, - And all thy life were spring, - And mine with frost should splinter, love, - While thine with birds should sing, - Wouldst thou walk past and glitter, - Forgetful mine is bitter? - - - XVII - - “Still on the anguish of a dying hope - An infant hope was nourished; all in vain. - For, at the last, although we parted friends, - The friendship lay like sickness on my soul, - That saw all gladness perish from the world - With loss of thee; and, ’mid the future years, - Love building high a sepulchre for hope. - - Ah, could you learn forgetfulness, - And teach my heart how to forget; - And I unlearn all fretfulness, - And teach your soul that still will fret; - The mornings of the world would burn - Before us and we would not turn, - For we would not regret. - - Did you but know what sorrow keeps, - That drives the joy of life away, - And I what each to-morrow keeps - For us until it is to-day; - No grief or change would then surprise - Our lives with what our lives were wise, - And nothing could betray. - - If you could be interior to - My dreams that are all love’s desire; - And I could be superior to - Myself and such in you inspire; - Long stairways would the years unroll - To lift us upward, soul to soul, - To what celestial fire! - - - XVIII - - “There came no words of comfort from your lips. - Not that I asked for pity! that had been - As fire unto the scalded or dry bread - Unto the famished fallen ’mid the sands! - But all your actions said that I was wrong, - But how, I know not and have ceased to care; - Still standing like one stricken blind at noon, - Who gropes and fumbles, feeling all grow strange - That once was so familiar; cursing God - Who locks him in with darkness and despair.-- - Your judgment had been juster had it had - A lesser love than mine to judge.--O love, - Where lay the justice of thy judge in this?-- - - ‘If thou hadst praised thy God as long - As thou hast praised a woman’s eyes, - Perhaps thou hadst not suffered wrong, - As now, and sat with sighs: - But, through thy prayer and praise made strong, - Perhaps thou hadst grown wise. - - ‘If thou hadst bade thy God be more - Than I, thy life had not been sad; - His love to thee had not been poor - As mine. But thou wast mad, - And cam’st, a beggar, to my door, - And had more than I had. - - ‘If thou hadst taught me how to love, - Nor played with love as monarchs play, - My heart had learned right soon enough, - From thine, love’s lowlier way. - But all thy love stood far above, - Nor touched my soul to sway.’ - - - XIX - - “Thus did you write me, or in words like these, - When all was over and your heart was led, - Through pity, haply, thus to justify - Yourself, that needed not to justify, - Since all your reason lay in four small words, - Enough to wreck my world and all my life, - _You did not love_: what more is there to tell?-- - Yet, haply, it was this: One soul, that still - Demanded more than it could well return; - And, searching inward, yet could never pierce - Beyond its superficiality. - You did not know; yet I had felt in me - The rich fulfillment of a rare accord, - And could not, though the longing lay like song - And music on me, win your soul’s response. - - Were it well, lifting me - Eyes that give heed, - Down in your soul to see - Thought, the affinity - Of act and deed? - Knowing what naught may tell - Of heart and soul: - Yet were the knowledge whole, - And were it well? - - Were it well, giving true - Love all enough, - Still to discover new - Depths of true love for you, - Infinite love? - Feeling what naught may tell - Of heart and soul: - Yet were the knowledge whole, - And were it well? - - - XX - - “What else but, laboring for some good, to lift - Ourselves above the despotism of self, - All egoism strangling strength and hope, - To work and work, and, in the love of work, - Which takes the place, in some, of love’s real self, - To quench the flame that eats into the heart? - Art, our intensest and our truest love, - Immaculateness that has never led - One of her lovers wrong, his love all soul! - I followed beauty, and my ardor prayed - Your memory would, feature and form and face, - Be blotted out within me; rise no more - To mar the labor that I owed to Art. - I prayed, yea, to forget you, you I loved: - I prayed; and, see!--how Heaven answered me: - - I have no song to tell thee - The love that I would sing; - The song that should enspell thee - With words, and so compel thee - That thou, with love, must wing - Into my life to-morrow-- - For all my songs are sorrow. - - My strength is not a giant - To hold thee with strong hands, - To make thee less defiant; - Thy spirit more compliant - With all my love demands: - Alas! my love is meekness, - And all my strength is weakness. - - What hope have I to hover-- - When wings refuse to rise-- - Within thy heart’s close cover, - And there to play the lover, - Concealed from mortal eyes? - What hope! to give me boldness, - When all thy looks are coldness? - - - XXI - - “I prayed; and for a time felt strong as strength, - And held both hands out to the loveliness - That lured in the ideal. And I felt - Compelling power upon me that would lift - My face to heaven, now, to see the stars, - Now bend it back to earth to see the flowers. - I learned long lessons ’twixt a look and look: - - Breezes and linden blooms, - Sunshine and showers; - Rain, that the May perfumes, - Cupped in the flowers: - Clouds and the leaves that patter - Raindrops that glint and glare-- - Or be they gems that scatter? - Sapphires the sylphides shake, - When their loose fillets break, - Out of their radiant hair? - - Now is my heart a lute! - Now doth it pinion - Song in love’s swift pursuit - In thought’s dominion! - Dreaming of all thou meanest, - Thou, with uneager eyes, - Nature! of worlds thou queenest, - Whither thy mother hand - Draws us from land to land, - Far from the worldly wise! - - - XXII - - “Thus would I scatter grain around my life, - Gold grain of song, to lure them down to me, - Cloud-colored doves of peace to fill my soul, - And find them turn to ravens while they flew, - Black ravens of despair that would not out. - The old, dull, helpless aching at the heart, - As if some scar had turned a wound again. - While idle grief stared at the brutal past, - Which held a loss that made the past more rich - Than all Earth’s arts: that marveled how it came - Such puny folly should usurp love’s high - Proud pedestal of life that held your form, - In Parian, sculptured by the hands of thought. - And oft I shook myself,--for nightmares weighed - Each sense,--and seemed to wake; yet evermore - Beheld a death’s-head grinning at my eyes. - - So when the opening of the door doth thrill - My soul with sudden knowledge death is come, - Let me forget you or remember still, - It will not matter then that life went ill, - When death bends to me and my lips are dumb. - - Then I shall not remember: and shall leave - No memory behind me, and no trace - Of aught my life accomplished. Let none grieve. - There is no heart my passing will bereave; - And there are thousands who can fill my place. - - Who knocks?--The night camps on each hill and heath: - And round my door are minions of the night: - And like a weapon, riven from its sheath, - The wind sweeps, and the tempest grinds its teeth - Around me and my wild, hand-hollowed light. - - Who knocks?--the door is open!--And I see - The Darkness threatening, with distorted fists - Of cloudy terror, Courage on her knee: - Shine far, O candle! for it so may be - Love is bewildered in the night and mists.-- - - No wandering wisp art thou, that haunts the rain - With pallid flicker, fading as it flies!-- - The door is open!--Will he knock again?-- - The door is open!--Shall it be in vain?-- - Come in! delay not! thou, whose ways are wise! - - Who knocked has entered: let the darkness pass, - The door be closed!--Now morning lights shall thrust - It open; and the sunlight shine and mass - Its splendor here where once but darkness was, - And in its rays--motes and a little dust.” - - * * * * * - - - XXIII - - And I had read, read to the bitter end; - Half hearing lone surmises of the rain - And trouble of the wind. At last I rose - And went to Gwendolyn. She did not know - The kiss I gave her had a shudder in it; - Nor how the form of Julien rose between - Me and her lips, a blood-stain o’er his heart. - - - - - THE IDYLL OF THE STANDING-STONE - - - I - - She knows its windings and its crooks; - The wildflowers of its lovely woods; - The crowfoot’s golden sisterhoods, - That crowd its sunny nooks: - The iris, whose blue blossoms seem - Mab’s bonnets; and, each leaf a-gleam, - The trillium’s fairy-books. - - He knows its shallows and its pools, - Its stair-like beds of rock that go, - Foaming, with waterfall and flow, - Where dart the minnow schools; - Its grassy banks that herons haunt, - Or where the woodcock call; and gaunt - The mushrooms lift their stools. - - She seeks the columbine and phlox, - The bluebell, where the bushes fill - The old stones of the ruined mill; - She wades among the rocks: - Her feet are rose-pearl in the stream; - Her eyes are bluet-blue; a beam - Lies on her nut-brown locks. - - He comes with fishing-reel and line - To angle in the darker deeps, - Where the reflected forest sleeps - Of sycamore and pine: - And now and then a shadow swoops - Above him of a hawk that stoops - From skies as clear as wine. - - And will he see, if they should meet, - That she is fairer than each flower - Her apron fills? and in that hour - Feel life less incomplete?... - He stops below: she walks above-- - The brook floats down, as white as love, - One blossom to his feet. - - And she?--should she behold the tan - Of manly face and honest eyes, - Would all her soul idealize - Him? make him more than man?... - She dropped one blossom when she heard - Soft whistling--was it man or bird, - Whose notes so sweetly ran? - -[Illustration: - - Where the woodcock call Page 161 - - _The Idyll of the Standing-Stone_] - - They knew before they came to meet; - For some divulging influence - Had touched them thro’ the starry lens - God holds to bring in beat - Two hearts--her heart one haunting wish, - And his--forgetful of the fish, - Her flower at his feet. - - - II - - The sassafras twigs had just lit up - The yellow stars of their fragrant candles, - And the dogwood brimmed each blossom-cup - With spring to its brown-tipped handles; - When down the orchard, ’mid apple blooms-- - Say, ho, the hum o’ the honey-bee!-- - A glimpse of Spring in the sprinkled glooms? - Or only a girl? with the warm perfumes - Blown round her breezily. - - The maple, as red as the delicate flush - Of an afterglow, was airy crimson; - And the haw-tree, white in the wing-whipped hush, - Gleamed cool as a cloud that the moonlight dims on; - And under the oak, whose branches strung-- - Say, heigh, the rap o’ the sapsuckér!-- - Gray buds in tassels that sweetly swung, - They stood and listened a bird that sung, - As glad as the heart in her. - - Yellow the bloom of the rattle-weed, - And white the bloom of the plum and cherry; - And red as a stain the red-bud’s brede, - And clover the color of sherry: - And a wren sings there in the orchard drift,-- - And, ho! the dew from the web that slips!-- - And a thrush sings there in the woodland rift, - Where he to his face her face doth lift, - Her face with the willing lips. - - For a while they sat on the moss and grass, - Where the forest bloomed a great wild garden;-- - Then the beam from the hollow--it seemed to pass, - And the ray on the hills to harden, - When she rose to go, and his joy fell flat;-- - And, heigh, the wasp i’ the pawpaw bell!-- - As she waved her hand--why, it seemed at that - ’Twas Spring’s own self he was gazing at, - And the life of his life as well. - - - III - - The teasel and the horsemint spread - The hillsides, as with sunset sown, - Blooming along the Standing-Stone - That ripples in its rocky bed: - There are no treasuries that hold - Gold yellower than the marigold - That crowds its mouth and head. - - ’T is harvest-time: a mower stands - Among the morning wheat and whets - His scythe, and for a space forgets - The labor of the ripening lands; - Then bends, and through the dewy grain - His long scythe hisses, and again - He swings it in his hands. - - And she beholds him where he mows - On acres whence the water sends - Faint music of reflecting bends - And falls that interblend with flows: - She stands among the old bee-gums,-- - Where all the apiary hums,-- - Like some sweet bramble-rose. - - She hears him whistling as he leans, - And, reaping, sweeps the ripe wheat by; - She sighs and smiles and knows not why:-- - These are but simple country scenes: - He whets his scythe again, and sees - Her smiling near the hives of bees - Beneath the flowering beans. - - The peacock-purple lizard creeps - Along the rail; and deep the drone - Of insects makes the country lone - With summer where the water sleeps: - She hears him singing as he swings - His scythe; he thinks of other things-- - Not toil, and, singing, reaps. - - - IV - - Into the woods they went again, - Over the wind-blown oats; - Out of the acres of golden grain, - In where the light was a violet stain, - In where the lilies’ throats - Were brimmed with the summer rain. - - Hung on a bough a reaper’s hook, - Over the wind-blown oats; - A girl’s glad laugh and a girl’s glad look, - And the hush and ripple of tree and brook, - And a wild bird’s silvery notes, - And a kiss that a strong man took. - - Out of the woods the lovers went, - Over the wind-waved wheat; - She with a face, where love was blent, - Like to an open testament; - He, from his head to feet, - Dazed with his hope that was eloquent. - - Here how oft had they come to tryst, - Over the wind-waved wheat! - Here how oft had they laughed and kissed! - Talked and tarried where no one wist, - Here where the woods are sweet, - Dim and deep as a dewy mist. - - - V - - Her pearls are blossoms-of-the-vale, - Her only diamonds are the dews; - Such jewels never can grow stale, - Nor any value lose. - - Among the millet beards she stands: - The languid wind lolls everywhere: - There are wild roses in her hands, - One wild rose in her hair. - - To-morrow, where the shade is warm, - Among the unmown wheat she’ll stop, - And from one daisy-loaded arm - One ox-eyed daisy drop. - - She’ll meet his brown eyes, true and brave, - With blue eyes, false yet dreamy sweet: - He is her lover and her slave, - Who mows among the wheat. - - * * * * * - - When buds broke on the apple trees - She wore an apple-blossom dress, - And laughed with him across the leas, - And love was all a guess. - - When goose-plums ripened in the rain, - Plum-colored was her gown of red; - He kissed her in the creek-road lane-- - She was his life, he said. - - When apples thumped the droughty land, - A russet color was her gown: - Another came, and--won her hand?-- - Nay! carried off to town.... - - When grapes hung purple in the hot, - None missed her and her simple dress, - Save one, whom, haply, she forgot, - Who loved her none the less. - - When snow made white each harvest sheaf, - He sought her out amid her show; - Her rubies, redder than the leaf - That autumn forests sow. - - Not one regret her shame reveals; - She smiles at him, then puts him by; - He pleads; and she? she merely steels - Her heart and--lives her lie. - - - VI - - And he returned when poppies strewed - Their golden blots o’er moss and leaf,-- - Blond little Esaus of the wood, - So fair of face, of life so brief.-- - Did he forget?--Not he, in truth!-- - “No month,” he thought, “holds so much grace, - No month of spring, such grace and youth, - As the sweet April of her face.” - - In fall the frail gerardia - Hung hints of sunset and of dawn - On root and rock, as if to draw - Her lips, remind him of one gone:-- - Of one unworthy, in pursuit - Of butterflies, who does not dream - A flower, broken by her foot, - Sweeps, helpless, with her down the stream. - - - - - SOME SUMMER DAYS - - - I - - If you had seen her waiting there - Among the tiger-lily blooms,-- - That sowed their jewels everywhere - Among the woodland gleams and glooms,-- - You had confessed her very fair, - And sweeter than the wood’s perfumes. - - A country girl with bare brown feet, - She waits, while day slopes down the deeps: - The afternoon is dead with heat, - And all the weary shadow sleeps - Like toil, arm-pillowed in the wheat, - Beside the scythe with which he reaps. - - There is no sound more distant than - The cow-bell on the vine-hung hill; - No nearer than the locust’s span - Of noise that makes the silence shrill: - And now there comes a sun-browned man - Through tiger-lilies of the rill. - - Long will they talk: till, in the end, - The clear west glows, the east grows pale; - Until the glow and pallor blend - Like moonlight on a shifting sail; - And then he ’ll clasp her; she will bend - Her head, consenting. Day will fail: - - The west will flame, then fade away - Through heavy orange, rose, and red, - And leave the heavens violet gray - Above a gypsy-lily bed: - Then they will go; and he will say - Such words to her as none has said. - - A million stars the night will win - Above them; and one firefly - Pulse like a tangled starbeam in - The cedar dark against the sky: - Then he will lift her dimpled chin - And take the kiss she ’ll not deny. - - And when the moon, like the great book - Of Judgment, golden with the light - Of God, lies open o’er yon nook - Of darkest wood and wildest height, - Together they will cross the brook - And reach the gate and kiss good night. - - - II - - And now he wipes his hand along - The beaded fire of his brow - Hard toil has heated; and the strong - Face flushes fuller health as now - He fills his hay-fork to the prong, - And, tossing it, again doth bow. - - And now he rests, and looks away - Across the sun-fierce hills and meads - No rolling cloud has cooled to-day; - And from his face the brawny beads - Drip; and he marks the heaps of hay, - The fields of corn, the fields of weeds. - - At last he sees the tempest build - Black battlements along the west, - Black breastworks that are thunder filled; - And bares his brow; and on his chest - The sweat of toil is cooled; and stilled - The pulse of toil within his breast. - - A strong wind brings the odorous death - Of far hay-meadows, and the scent - Is good within his nostrils’ breath: - The mighty trees are bowed, that leant - For no man, as when Power saith - “Bow down!” and stalwart men are bent. - - He laughs, long-gazing as he goes - Along the elder-sweetened lane: - He feels the storm wind as it blows - Across the sheaves of golden grain, - And stops to pull one bramble-rose, - And watch the swiftly coming rain. - - And there, ’mid locust trees, the farm - Dreams in a martin-haunted place: - He marks the far-off streaks of storm - That, driven of the thunder, race: - He sees his child upon her arm, - And in the door his wife’s fair face. - - - III - - Below the sunset’s range of rose, - Below the heaven’s bending blue, - Down woodways where the balsam blows, - And milkweed tufts hang, gray of hue, - A Jersey heifer stops and lows-- - The cows come home by one, by two. - - There is no star yet: but the smell - Of hay and pennyroyal mix - With herb-aromas of the dell; - And the root-hidden cricket clicks: - Among the ironweeds a bell - Clangs near the rail-fenced clover-ricks. - - She waits upon the slope beside - The windlassed well the plum-trees shade, - The well-curb that the goose-plums hide; - Her light hand on the bucket laid, - Unbonneted she waits, glad-eyed, - Her dress as simple as her braid. - - She sees fawn-colored backs among - The sumacs now; a tossing horn; - A clashing bell of brass that rung: - Long shadows lean upon the corn, - And all the day dies scarlet-stung, - The cloud in it a rosy thorn. - - Below the pleasant moon, that tips - The tree-tops of the hillside, fly - The evening bats; the twilight slips - Some fireflies like spangles by; - She meets him, and their happy lips - Touch; and one star leaps in the sky. - - He takes her bucket, and they speak - Of married hopes while in the grass - The plum lies glowing as her cheek; - The patient cows look back or pass; - And in the west one golden streak - Burns like a great cathedral glass. - - - IV - - The skies are amber, blue, and green - Before the coming of the sun; - And all the deep hills sleep, serene - As if enchanted; every one - Is ribbed with morning mists that lean - On woods through which vague whispers run. - - Birds wake: and on the vine-hung knobs, - Above the brook, a twittering - Confuses songs; one warbler robs - Another of its note; a wing - Beats by; and now a wild throat throbs - Triumphant; all the woodlands sing. - - The sun is up: the hills are heaped - With instant splendor; and the vales - Surprised with shimmers that are steeped - In purple where the thin mist trails; - The water-fall, the rock it leaped, - Are burning gold that foams and fails. - - He drives his horses to the plow - Along the vineyard slopes, where bask - Dew-heavy grapes, half-ripened now, - In sun-shot shafts of shade: no mask - Of joy he wears; his face and brow - Glow as he enters on his task. - - Before him, soaring through the mist, - The gray hawk wildly wings and screams; - Its dewy back gleams, sunbeam-kissed, - Above the wood that drips and dreams; - He guides the plow with one strong fist; - The soil rolls back in level seams. - - Packed to the right the sassafras - Lifts leafy walls of spice that shade - The blackberries, whose tendrils mass - Big berries in the coolness made; - And drop their ripeness on the grass - Where trumpet-flowers fall and fade. - - White on the left the fence and trees - That mark the garden; and the smoke, - Uncurling in the early breeze, - Tells of the roof beneath the oak; - He turns his team, and, turning, sees - The damp, dark soil his coulter broke. - - Bees hum; and o’er the berries poise - Lean-bodied wasps; loud blackbirds turn - Following the plow: there is a noise - Of insect wings that buzz and burn;-- - And now he hears his wife’s low voice, - The song she sings to help her churn. - - - V - - There are no clouds that drift around - The moon’s pearl-kindled crystal, (white - As some sky-summoned spirit wound - In raiment lit with limbs of light), - That have not softened like the sound - Of harps when Heaven forgets to smite. - - The vales are deeper than the dark, - And darker than the vales the woods - That shadowy hill and meadow mark - With broad, blurred lines, whereover broods - Deep calm; and now a fox-hound’s bark - Upon the quietude intrudes. - - And though the night is never still, - Yet what we name its noises makes - Its silence:--now a whippoorwill; - A frog, whose hoarser tremor breaks - The hush; then insect sounds that fill - The night; an owl that hoots and wakes. - - They lean against the gate that leads - Into the lane that lies between - The yard and orchard; flowers and weeds - Smell sweeter than the odors keen - That day distils from hotness; beads - Of dew make cool the gray and green. - - Their infant sleeps. They feel the peace - Of something done that God has blessed, - Still as the pulse that will not cease - There in the cloud that lights the west: - The peace of love that shall increase - While soul to soul still gives its best. - - - - - AN EPIC OF SOUTH-FORK - - - I - - The wild brook gleams on the sand and ripples - Over the rocks of the riffle; brimming - Under the elms like a nymph who dripples, - Dips and glimmers and shines in swimming: - Under the linns and the ash-trees lodging, - Loops of the limpid waters lie, - Shaken of schools of the minnows, dodging - The glancing wings of the dragon-fly. - - Lower, the loops are lines of laughter - Over the stones and the crystal gravel; - Afar they gloom, like a face seen after - Mirth, where the waters slowly travel; - Shadowy slow where the Fork is shaken - Of the dropping bark of the sycamore, - Where the water-snake, that the footsteps waken, - Slides like a crooked root from shore. - - Peace of the forest; and silence, dimmer - Than dreams. And now a wing that winnows - The willow leaves, with their shadows slimmer - In the shallow there than a school of minnows: - Calm of the creek; and a huge tree twisted, - Ringed, and turned to a tree of pearl; - A gray-eyed man, who is farmer-fisted, - And a dark-eyed, sinewy country girl. - - The brow of the man is gnarled and wrinkled - With the weight of the words that have just been spoken; - And the girl has smiled and her eyes have twinkled, - Though the bonds and the bands of their love lie broken: - She smiles, nor knows how the days have knotted - Her to the heart of the man who says: - “Let us follow the paths that we think allotted. - I will go my ways and you your ways. - - “And the man between us is your decision. - Worse or better he is your lover.-- - Shall I say he ’s worse since the sweet Elysian - Prize he wins where I discover - Only the hell of the luckless chooser?-- - Shall I say he ’s better than I, or more, - Since he is winner and I am loser, - His life ’s made rich and mine made poor?” - - “I tell you now as I oft and ever - Have told,” she answered, the laughter dying - Down in her eyes, “that his arms have never - Held me!--no!--but you think me lying, - And you are wrong. And I think it better - To part forever than still to dwell - With the sad distrust, like an evil tetter, - On our lives forever, and so farewell.” - - And she turned away; and he watched her going, - The girlish pride in her eyes a-smoulder: - He saw her go, and his lips were glowing - Fever that parched. And he stood, one shoulder - Slouched to the tree; and he saw her stooping, - There by the bank, with a reckless foot; - Straighten; and tear from her breast his drooping - Lilies and fasten the pleurisy-root. - - With its orange fire he saw her passing - On and on; and the blood beat, burning - His brain to madness; and seemingly massing - The weight of the world on his heart in yearning ... - Butterflies swarmed in the moist sand-alleys; - A fairy fleet of Ionian sails - They seemed with their wings, or of pirate galleys, - Maroon and yellow, for Elfland gales. - - He watched her going; and harder, thicker - The pulse of his breath and his heart’s hard throbbing.-- - How should he know that her heart was sicker? - How should he know that her soul was sobbing?-- - She never looked back: and he saw her vanish - In swirls of the startled butterflies, - Like a storm of flowers; and he could not banish - The thought he had lost his all through lies. - - - II - - He heard the cocks crow out the lonely hours. - How long the night! how far away the dawn! - It seemed long months since he had seen the flowers, - The leaves, the sunlight, and the bee-hived lawn; - Had heard the thrush flute in the tangled showers. - - His burning eyes ached, staring at the black - Stolidity of midnight. Would God send - No cool relief unto his mind,--a rack - Of inquisition,--tortures to unbend, - That stretched him forward and now strained him back? - - Incomprehensible and undivulged, - The thought that took him back, retraced their walks, - Through woods, on which the sudden perfumes bulged, - The bird-songs and the brilliant-blossomed stalks; - And all the freedom which their talk indulged. - - Oh, strong appeal! And he would almost yield; - When, firmly forward, he could feel her fault - Oppose the error of a rock-like shield, - And to resisting phalanxes cry halt-- - And, lo! bright cohorts broken on the field. - - O mulct of morning! to the despot night - Count down unminted gold, and let the day - Walk free from dungeons of the dark; delight - Herself on mountains of the violet ray, - Clad in white maidenhood and morning white! - - A melancholy coast, plunged deep in dream - And death and silence, stretched the drowsy dark, - Wherein he heard a round-eyed screech-owl scream, - In lamentation, and a watch-dog bark, - Vague as oblivion, lost in night’s deep stream. - - And then hope moved him to divide the blinds - To see if those bright sparkles were a star’s, - Or but his feverish eyelids, which the mind’s - Commotion weighed.--No hint of morning bars - With glimmer heaven’s swart tapestry he finds. - - So he remained, impatient, till the first - Exploring crevices of Aztec morn, - Dim cracks of treasure, Eldorados burst: - Then could he face his cowardice and scorn - His jealousy that thus his life had cursed. - - Love knew no barriers now. And where he went - Each woodland path was musical with birds; - Each flow’r was richer, more divine of scent; - For love sought love with such expressive words - That dawn’s delivery was less eloquent. - - - III - - Who is it hunts with his dog - There where the heron is flying - Gray through the feathering fog - Over the Fork, where is lying, - Bridge-like, a butternut log, - There where the horsemint is drying? - - Who is it hunts in the brush, - Under the linns and the beeches, - Here where the water-falls rush, - Dark, where the noon never reaches? - Here where the Fork is one crush - Of flags with a bloom like the peach’s? - - He is handsome and supple and tall, - Blond-haired and vigorous-chested, - Blue-eyed as the bud by the fall - Where he listens,--his rifle half rested, - Half leaned on the crumbling stone wall,-- - Whose briers he lately has breasted. - - He waits; and the sun on the dew - Of the cedars and leaves of the bushes - Strikes glittering frostiness through ... - If a covey of partridges flushes - What good will a Winchester do, - Or the dog to his feet that he crushes? - - Then a man breaks strong through the weeds - Where the buck-bushes toss and the spires - Of the white-blossomed cohosh; ’mid reeds - Wild-carrots, and trammelling briers: - It is he! to his loved one who speeds-- - And the man in the bushes--he fires.... - - From leaves of the wind-shaken wood - The dew of the dawn is still falling: - He is gone from the place where he stood, - Just there where the black crow is calling: - There is blood on the weeds: is it blood - On the face of the man who is crawling? - - Red blood or a smudge of the dawn?-- - Now he lies with his gray eyes wide, staring, - Stiff, still at the sun: he has drawn - His limbs in a heap: and the faring - Bee-martins light near or pass on, - Not one of them knowing or caring. - - It is noon: and the wood-dove is deep - In the calm of its cooing: and over - The tops of the forest trees sweep - The shadows of buzzards that hover: - Wide-winged they sail on as asleep: - And the bob-white is whistling from cover. - - It is dusk: and the heat, that made wilt - The leaves and the wildflowers’ faces, - Gives place to the dew-drops that tilt - With coolness the weeds where are traces - Of horror and darkness and guilt, - That nothing can wash from those places. - - It is night: and the hoot-owlet mocks - The dove of the day with wild weeping, - The Fork is scarce heard on its rocks - Where the man is so quietly sleeping: - Through the woods snaps the bark of a fox; - The lightning is fitfully leaping. - - - IV - - All day, ’twixt hope and fear, - She waited at the gate, - Looking for him, more dear - Now that he made her wait: - Day went and night draws near: - Stormy it grows and late. - - Still, still she waits: great limbs - The winds rend from the ridge; - Each swollen shallow swims - Head-deep below the bridge; - The drift, that breaks and brims - Swirls lighter than the midge. - - The night grows wildly gray - With lightning-litten rain; - The forests sound and sway, - An oak is rent in twain; - The thunder rolls away - Like some vast bolt and chain. - - The Fork is whirling wreck - Of field and farm and wood; - And many a foaming fleck - Drives where the rock-fence stood;-- - A torrent sweeps break-neck - Above the washed-out blood. - - Night deepens: still she waits - Expectant in despair: - The Fork has reached the gates, - The wood’s wreck everywhere. - But when the storm abates, - She thinks, he will be there. - - She sees the lightning rush - Its blazing hells above; - She hears the thunder crush - Heaven as if earthquake-clove-- - Loud in the tempest’s hush - She calls with all her love. - - He comes, she feels; and stands - The rushing waters o’er - Her feet, and on her hands - And hair the wild down-pour, - The lightnings are wild brands - To light him to her door. - - Night deepens: but she knows - God will not fail to send - Her love to soothe her woes, - And one day’s errors mend.-- - The wild stream foams and flows - Booming in fall and bend. - - Again the lightnings light - The night like some wild torch; - The waters foam and fight; - And one uprooted larch - Sweeps down, with something white - Wedged in it, by her porch. - - She stoops: the lurid rain - Beats on her back and head-- - Ay! he hath come again! - With livid lips once red! - A bullet in his brain - The night hath brought him--dead! - - - - - A NIELLO - - - I - - It is not early spring and yet - Of bloodroot blooms along the stream, - And blotted banks of violet, - My heart will dream. - - Is it because the wind-flower apes - The beauty that was once her brow, - That the white thought of it still shapes - The April now? - - Because the wild-rose learned its blush - From her fresh cheeks of maidenhood, - Their thought makes June of barren brush - And empty wood? - - And then I think how young she died-- - Straight, barren death stalks down the trees, - The hard-eyed hours by his side - That kill and freeze. - - - II - - When orchards are in bloom again - My heart will bound, my blood will beat, - To hear the red-bird so repeat, - On boughs of rosy stain, - His blithe, loud song,--like some far strain - From out the past,--among the bloom,-- - (Where bee, and wasp, and hornet boom)-- - Fresh, redolent with rain. - - When orchards are in bloom once more, - Invasions of lost dreams will draw - My feet, like some insistent law, - Through blossoms to her door: - In dreams I’ll ask her, as before, - To let me help her at the well; - And fill her pail; and long to tell - My love as once of yore. - - I shall not speak until we quit - The farm-gate, leading to the lane - And orchard, all in bloom again, - ’Mid which the wood-doves sit - And coo; and through whose blossoms flit - The cat-birds crying while they fly: - Then tenderly I’ll speak, and try - To tell her all of it. - - And in my dream again she’ll place - Her hand in mine, as oft before,-- - When orchards are in bloom once more,-- - With all her old-time grace: - And we will tarry till a trace - Of sunset dyes the heav’ns; and then-- - We’ll part, and, parting, I again - Will bend and kiss her face. - - And homeward, dreaming, I will go - Along the cricket-chirring ways, - While sunset, like one crimson blaze - Of blossoms, lingers low: - And my lost youth again I’ll know, - And all her love, when spring is here-- - Hers! hers! now dead this many a year - Whose love still haunts me so. - - - III - - I would not die when Springtime lifts - The white world to her maiden mouth, - And heaps its cradle with gay gifts, - Breeze-blown from out the singing South: - Too full of life and loves that cling, - Too heedless of all mortal woe, - The young, unsympathetic Spring, - That death should never know. - - I would not die when Summer shakes - Her daisied locks below her hips, - And, naked as a star that takes - A cloud, into the silence slips. - Too rich is Summer; poor in needs; - Wrapped in her own warm loveliness - Her pomp goes by, and never heeds - If one be more or less. - - But I would die when Autumn goes, - The sad rain dripping from her hair, - Through forests where the wild wind blows - Death and the red wreck everywhere: - Sweet as love’s last farewells and tears - ’T would be to die, when heavens are gray, - In the old autumn of my years, - Like a dead leaf borne far away. - - - - - DEEP IN THE FOREST - - - I - - SPRING ON THE HILLS - - Ah, shall I follow, on the hills, - The Spring, as wild wings follow? - Where wild-plum trees make wan the hills, - Crab-apple trees the hollow, - Haunts of the bee and swallow? - - In red-bud brakes and flowery - Acclivities of berry; - In dogwood dingles, showery - With dew, where wrens make merry? - Or drifts of swarming cherry? - - In valleys of wild-strawberries, - And of the clumped May-apple; - Or cloud-like trees of hawberries, - With which the south-winds grapple, - That brook and pathway dapple? - - With eyes of far forgetfulness,-- - Like some white wood-thing’s daughter, - Whose feet are bee-like fretfulness,-- - To see her run like water - Through boughs that slipped or caught her. - - O Spring, to seek, yet find you not, - To search and still continue; - To glimpse, to touch, but bind you not, - To lose and then to win you, - All sweet evasion in you. - - In pearly, peach-blush distances - You gleam; the woods are braided - Of myths, of dream-existences;-- - There, where the brook is shaded, - Some splendor surely faded. - - O presence, like the primrose’s, - Once more I feel your power! - In rainy scents of dim roses - I breathe you for an hour, - Elusive as a flower. - - - II - - THE WOOD SPIRIT - - Ah me! I still remember - How flushed, before the shower, - The dusk was; like a scarlet rose, - Or blood-red poppy-flower. - - Now heaven is starred; the moonlight - Lays blurs upon the grain-- - You may not know it from white frost, - The moonlight on the rain. - - And all the forest utters - A restless moan in rest, - For all the deep, dark shadow lies - Like iron on its breast. - - I mark the moveless shadow, - I mark the unreaped corn, - Then something whispers overhead, - “Come to me, mortal-born.” - - I sit alone and listen; - The low leaves sound and sigh; - The dew drips from the bearded grain, - A mist slips from the sky.-- - - I hear her whisper, whisper, - And breathe in some dim place; - Her feet are easier than the dew, - And than the mist her face. - - I may not clasp her ever, - This spirit made for song, - Who dwelleth in the young, young oak - The old, old oaks among. - - Her limbs are molded moonlight; - Her breasts are silver moons: - She glimmers and she glitters where - The purple shadow swoons. - - And since she knows I love her, - She says my soul has died, - And laughs and mocks me in the mist - That haunts the forest-side. - - When winds run mad in woodlands - And all the great boughs swing, - I see her wild hair blow and blow - Black as a raven’s wing. - - When winds are tamed and tethered - And stars are keen as frost, - I search and seek within the wood, - There where my soul was lost. - - I seek her, and she flies me; - I follow; and the whole - Dim woodland echoes with her voice, - Soft calling to my soul. - - - III - - OWL ROOST - - The slope is a mass of vines: - If you walk in the daylight there, - A gleam as of twilight shines - Through the vines massed everywhere: - Each trunk, that a creeper twines, - Is a column, strong to bear - The dome of its leaves that wave, - Cathedral-dim and grave. - - Black moss makes silent the feet: - And, above, the fox-grapes lace - So thick that the noonday heat - Is chill as a murdered face: - And the winds for miles repeat - The fugue of a rolling bass: - The deep leaves twinkle and turn - But over no flower or fern. - - An angular spider weaves - Great webs between the trees, - Webs that are witches’ sieves: - And honey-and bumblebees - Go droning among the leaves, - Like the fairies’ oboës: - At dark the owlets croon - To the stars and the sickle-moon. - - At dark I will not go - There where the branches sigh; - Where naught but the glow-worms glow, - Each one like a demon’s eye: - O’er which, like a battle-bow, - With an arrow that it lets fly, - The new-moon and one star - Hang and glimmer afar. - - At dawn, if my mood be dim, - And the day be a cloudless one, - There where the sad winds hymn - I ’ll walk, but its shade will shun; - Its shade, where I feel the grim - Horror of something done - Here in the years long past, - That the place conceals to the last. - - - IV - - MOSS AND FERN - - Where rise the brakes of bramble there, - Wrapped with the trailing rose, - Through cane where waters ramble, there - Where deep the green cress grows, - Who knows? - Perhaps, unseen of eyes of man, - Hides Pan. - - Perhaps the creek, whose pebbles make - A foothold for the mint, - May bear,--where soft its trebles make - Confession,--some vague hint-- - (The print, - Goat-hoofed, of one who lightly ran)-- - Of Pan. - - Where, in the hollow of the hills - Ferns deepen to the knees, - What sounds are those above the hills, - And now among the trees?-- - No breeze!-- - The syrinx, haply, none may scan, - Of Pan. - - In woods where waters break upon - The hush like some soft word; - Where sun-shot shadows shake upon - The moss, who has not heard-- - No bird!-- - The flute, as breezy as a fan, - Of Pan? - - Far in, where mosses lay for us - Still carpets, cool and plush; - Where bloom and branch and ray for us - Swoon in the noonday flush, - The hush - May sound the satyr hoof a span - Of Pan. - - In woods where thrushes sing to us, - And brooks dance sparkling heels; - Where wild aromas cling to us, - And all our worship kneels,-- - Who steals - Upon us, haunch and face of tan, - But Pan? - - - V - - WOODLAND WATERS - - Through leaves of the nodding trees, - Where blossoms sway in the breeze, - Pink bag-pipes made for the bees, - Whose slogan is droning and drawling: - Where the columbine scatters its bells, - And the wild bleeding-heart its shells, - O’er mosses and rocks of the dells - The brook of the forest is falling. - - You can hear it under the hill - When the wind in the wood is still, - And, strokes of a fairy drill, - Sounds the bill of the yellow-hammer: - By the solomon’s-seal it slips, - Cohosh and the grass that drips-- - Like the words of an Undine’s lips, - Is the sound of its falls that stammer. - - I lie in the woods: and the scent - Of the honeysuckle is blent - With the sound: and a Sultan’s tent - Is my dream, with the East enmeshéd:-- - A slave-girl sings; and I hear - The languor of lute-strings near, - And a dancing-girl of Cashmere - In the harem of good Er Reshid. - - From ripples of Irak lace - She flashes the amorous grace - Of her naked limbs and her face, - While her golden anklets tinkle: - Then over mosaic floors - Open seraglio doors - Of cedar: by twos, by fours,-- - Like stars that tremble and twinkle,-- - - While the dulcimers sing, unseen, - The handmaids come of the Queen - ’Neath silvern lamps, one sheen - Of jewels of Afrite treasure: - And I see the Arabia rise - Of the Nights that were rich and wise, - Beautiful, dark, in the eyes - Of Zubeideh, the Queen of Pleasure. - - - VI - - THE THORN-TREE - - The night is sad with silver and the day is glad with gold, - And the woodland silence listens to a legend never old, - Of the Lady of the Fountain, whom the fairy people know, - With her limbs of samite whiteness and her hair of golden glow, - Whom the boyish South-wind seeks for and the girlish-stepping rain, - Whom the sleepy leaves still whisper men shall never see again; - She whose Vivien charms were mistress of the magic Merlin knew, - That could change the dew to glow-worms and the glow-worms into dew. - - There’s a thorn-tree in the forest, and the fairies know the tree, - With its branches gnarled and wrinkled as a face with sorcery; - But the May-time brings it clusters of a rainy fragrant white, - Like the bloom-bright brows of beauty or a hand of lifted light. - And all day the silence whispers to the sun-ray of the morn - How the bloom is lovely Vivien and how Merlin is the thorn: - How she won the doting wizard with her naked loveliness - Till he told her demon secrets that but made his magic less. - - How she charmed him and enchanted in the thorn-tree’s thorns to lie - Forever with his passion that should never dim or die: - And with wicked laughter looking on this thing that she had done, - Like a visible aroma lingered sparkling in the sun; - How she stooped to kiss the pathos of an elf-lock of his beard, - All in mockery, at parting, and mock pity of his weird: - But her magic had forgotten that “who bends to give a kiss - Will bring down the curse upon them of the person whose it is”: - So the silence tells the secret.--And at night the fairies see - How the tossing bloom is Vivien, who is struggling to be free, - In the thorny arms of Merlin, who, forever, is the tree. - - - VII - - THE HAMADRYAD - - She stood among the longest ferns - The valley held; and in her hand - One blossom like the light that burns, - Vermilion, o’er a sunset land; - And round her hair a twisted band - Of pink-pierced mountain-laurel blooms: - And darker than dark pools, that stand - Below the star-communing glooms, - Her eyes beneath her hair’s perfumes. - - I saw the moon-pearl sandals on - Her flower-white feet, that seemed too chaste - To tread pure gold: and, like the dawn - On splendid peaks that lord a waste - Of solitude lost gods have graced, - Her face: she stood there, faultless-hipped, - Bound with the cestused silver,--chased - With acorn-cup and crown, and tipped - With oak-leaves,--whence her chiton slipped. - - Limbs that the gods call loveliness!-- - The grace and glory of all Greece - Wrought in one marble form were less - Than her perfection!--’Mid the trees - I saw her; and time seemed to cease - For me--And, lo! I lived my old - Greek life again of classic ease, - Barbarian as the myths that rolled - Me back into the Age of Gold. - - - - - WRECKAGE - - - I - - Love and the drift of many dreams, - Under the moon of a Florida night, - Over the beach with its silvery seams - White as a sail is white. - - Love that entered into two lives - Out of the dreams that the nights have borne, - Over the waves where the vapor drives, - Mists that the stars have torn. - - Love that welded two hearts and hands - There by the sea, ’neath the shell-white moon, - Like to the stars and the mists and the sands - Setting two lives in tune. - - Nights of love that one still keeps - Sacred;--nights, that the faith of one - Heartened there in the treacherous deeps, - Under a tropic sun. - - - II - - Parting he said to her: “Let us be true to them,-- - All of our dreams, of the night, of the morning: - What is our present, its hope, but a clew to them? - What is our past but a dream and a warning? - Have you considered the life that regretfully - Foldeth weak arms to the fate it might master?-- - Had I been true to my dreams, never fretfully - Halted, my future and joy had been faster.” - - They had come down to the ocean that, bellowing, - Boiled on the sand and the shells that were broken; - All of the summer was fading and yellowing; - Now they must part and their vows had been spoken. - It had befallen that heaven was lowering; - Over the sea, like the wraith of a wrecker, - Clamored the gull; and the mist in the showering - East seemed the ghost of a lofty three-decker. - - Infinite foam; and the boom of the hollowing - Breakers that buried the rocks to their shoulders; - Battle and boast of the deep in the wallowing - World of the waves where the red sunset smoulders. - Long was the leap of the foam on the thunderous - Beach; and each end of the beach was a flying - Fog of the spray: and she said, “Let it sunder us! - Still we will love, for love is undying!” - - Yet, if it comes to the thing he has said to her?-- - Wreckage and death?--the love she has given - Turned into sorrow?--Oh, that was a dread to her! - He, like a weed, by the waters far driven! - Weeping, her bosom with shudders was shaken as - She for a moment hard clung to her sailor, - Kissed him and--parted. His boat had been taken; as - Paler it grew the woman grew paler. - - - III - - All day the rain drove, falling - Upon the sombre sea; - All day, his wet sail hauling, - The sailor tacked a-lea; - And through the wild rain calling, - What was it?--was it he? - - At dusk the gull clanged, drifting - Above the boiling brine; - And, through the wan west sifting, - Streamed one red sunset line; - And in its wild light shifting, - His far sail seemed to shine. - - All night the wind wailed, sighing - Along the wreck-strewn coast; - All night the surf, defying, - Rolled thunder in and boast; - All night she heard a crying-- - The sea? or some lost ghost? - - - IV - - The balm of the night and the glory, - The music and scent of the sea, - Are as song to her heart or a story - Of the never-to-be. - The stars and the night and the whiteness - Of foam on the stretch of the sand; - Faint foam that is tossed, like the brightness - Of a mermaiden’s hand. - - No sail on the ocean; no sailor - On shore, and the winds all asleep; - And her face in the starlight far paler - Than women who weep. - A mist on the deep; and the ghostly - White moon in the deep of the night; - And a light that is neither; that mostly - Is shadow not light. - - No sea-gull, that vanished with gleaming - Of wings, in the swing of the spray; - Perhaps it was only her dreaming, - Or merely a ray - Of moonlight; the glimmering essence - Of all that is grayest and dim-- - But never his face, or his presence - That dripped in each limb. - - And she cried through the night, “Let perish! - O God, let me die of despair! - If he whom I love, whom I cherish, - Is weltering there!” - She seemed but a sea-mist made woman, - And he but a sound of the sea - Made man where nothing was human, - And never would be. - - - V - - Long he sailed the deep that glasses - The face of God and His majesty; - Passed the Horn and the Seas of Grasses, - Drifting aimlessly. - Time went by with its days that ever - Burden the hearts of those who be - Far away from their love; whom sever - Leagues of the shapeless sea. - - Land at last, whose reefs rolled broken - Foam of the balked waves everywhere; - Land; one tangle of weeds and oaken - Wreck and of rocks laid bare. - Here and there the sand stretched livid - Leagues of famine, one blinding glare; - Crags, o’er which gaunt birds winged vivid, - Harsh in the earthquake air. - - A little cloud in the sunset’s splendor; - A little cloud that the sunset stains: - Night, and a wisp of a moon that, slender, - Dreams of the hurricanes. - Winds that stride as with sounding sandals; - Winds that the tempest has loosed from chains: - Light that leaps like a spear he handles, - Shaking his thunder-manes. - - Wrenching the world in wreck asunder, - Black rebellion of hell and night; - Wrath and roar of the rocks and thunder, - Flame and the winds that fight ... - Beating the drift and the hush together, - Waves and winds that the morn makes white; - Calm and peace of the tropic weather - After the typhoon’s might. - - Clouds blow by and the storm’s forgotten. - Savage coasts where the sea-cow feeds. - Wash of weeds and the sea-weeds rotten. - And a dead face in the weeds. - None to know him or name him brother; - Only the savage in feathers and beads; - The South-Sea Islander, fitting another - Barb in the shaft he speeds. - - Far away where the sea-gulls gather; - Far away where the evening falls, - Lone she stands where the wild waves lather, - Rolling the sea in walls.-- - Who shall tell her, the lonely tryster? - Tell her of him on whom she calls?-- - Suns that beat on his face and blister? - Stars? or the sea that crawls? - - - VI - - She dreamed that there, beside the ocean sitting, - Alone she watched, when, at her feet, behold! - Between the foam-ridge and the sea-gull’s flitting, - His body rolled. - - All was not as it was before they parted; - She dreamed he had remembered, she forgot; - He ’d said he would forget her, angry-hearted, - And yet could not. - - And then it seemed that, had she known, she surely - Had given pity when she could not give - Her love to him, who loved her madly, purely, - And bade him live. - - And then she dreamed she looked upon the slanted - Hulk of a wreck: and high above the wave, - Worn of the wind and of the cactus planted, - His nameless grave. - - - - - SIREN SANDS - - - I - - The rhododendrons bloom and shake - Their petals wide and gleam and sway - Among palmettoes, by the lake, - Beyond the bay. - - Shores where we watched the eve reveal - Her cloudy sanctuaries, while - The bay lay lavaed into steel - For mile on mile. - - We watched the purple coast confuse - Soft outlines with the graying light; - And towards the gulf a vessel lose - Itself in night. - - We saw the sea-gulls dip and soar; - The wild-fowl gather past the pier; - And from rich skies, as from God’s door, - Gold far and near. - - Two foreign seamen passed and we - Heard mellow Spanish; like twin stars, - Where they lounged smoking, we could see - Their faint cigars. - - Night; and the heavens stained and strewn - With stars the waters idealized, - Until their light the rising moon - Epitomized. - - Morn; and the pine-wood balms awake; - Winds roll the dew-drop from the rose; - The wide lake burns; and, on the lake, - The ripple glows. - - Far coasts detach deep purple from - The blue horizon, and the day - Beholds the sunburnt sailor come - And sail away. - - The bird that slept at dusk, at dawn - Awakes again within the thorn.-- - Sweet was the night to it, now gone; - And sweet is morn. - - - II - - Through halls of columned scarlet, - Like some dark queen, the Dusk - Trails skirts of myrrh and musk, - Hung in each ear, a starlet - Gleams,--gems the clouds’ gaunt Jinn - Guard; and, beneath her chin, - The moon, an opal tusk. - - There lies a ghostly glory - Upon the sea and sand; - A gleam, as of a hand, - Stretched from the realms of story, - Of rosy golden ray; - Pointing the world the way - To some far Fairyland. - - As fades the west’s vermilion - Above the distant coasts, - The stars come out in hosts; - Within the night’s pavilion, - As flower speaks to flower, - Dim hour calls to hour, - Pale with the past’s sweet ghosts. - - - III - - Music that melts through moonlight, - Faint on the summer breeze; - Fireflies, moonlight, and foaming - Susurrus of the seas. - - Music that drifts like perfume, - And touches like a hand; - Dreams and stars and the ocean, - And we alone on the sand. - - Glimmers and vague reflections, - And the white swirl of the foam; - Pale on the purple a vessel, - And a light that beckons home. - - And I seem to see the music, - On a moonbeam bar that floats, - For the music is moonlight magic, - And the flies are its golden notes. - - And I seem to hear one singing - Of a brown old coast and sea, - Of lives that were filled with passion, - And old-world tragedy. - - And I hear the harsh reef’s calling - For a noble ship at sea, - And the winds of the ocean singing - A dirge for the dead to be. - - Till it seems that I am the pilot, - And you are the mermaidén, - Who lures him on to the wrecking - And into her arms again. - - - _Song_ - - Over the hills where the winds are waking - All is lone as the soul of me; - Over the hills where the stars are shaking, - Breton hills by the sea. - - These were with me to tell me often - How she pined in her Croisic home, - Winds that sing and the stars that soften - Over the miles of foam. - - Fishers’ nets and the sailor faces; - Sad salt marshes and granite piers; - Brown, loud coast where the long foam races-- - And a parting full of tears. - - A gray sail’s ghost where the autumn lies on - Wraiths of the mist and the squall-blown rain; - Her dark girl eyes that search the horizon, - Grave with a haunting pain. - - Stars may burn and the wild winds whistle - Over the rocks where the sea-gulls rave-- - My heart is bleak as the wind-worn thistle - on her seaside grave. - - - IV - - Sad as sad eyes that ache with tears - The stars of night shine through the leaves; - And shadowy as the Fates’ dim shears - The weft that twilight weaves. - - The summer sunset marched long hosts - Of gold adown one golden peak, - That flamed and fell; and now gray ghosts - Of mist the far west streak. - - They seem the shades of things that weep, - Wan things the heavens would conceal; - Blood-stained; that bear within them, deep, - Red wounds that will not heal. - - Night comes, and with it storm, that slips - Wild angles of the jagged light:-- - I feel the wild rain on my lips,-- - A wild girl is the Night. - - A moaning tremor sweeps the trees; - And all the stars are packed with death:-- - She holds me by the neck and knees, - I feel her wild, wet breath. - - Hell and its hags drive on the rain:-- - Night holds me by the hair and pleads; - Her kisses fall like blows again; - My brow is dewed with beads. - - The thunder plants wild beacons on - Each volleying height.--My soul seems blown - Far out to sea. The world is gone, - And night and I alone. - - Tampa, Florida, February, 1893. - - - - - WAR-TIME SILHOUETTES. - - - I - - THE BATTLE - - The night had passed. The day had come, - Bright-born, into a cloudless sky: - We heard the rolling of the drum, - And saw the war-flags fly. - - And noon had crowded upon morn - Ere Conflict shook her red locks far, - And blew her brazen battle-horn - Upon the hills of War. - - Noon darkened into dusk--one blot - Of nightmare lit with hell-born suns;-- - We heard the scream of shell and shot - And booming of the guns. - - On batteries of belching grape - We saw the thundering cavalry - Hurl headlong,--iron shape on shape,-- - With shout and bugle-cry. - - When dusk had moaned and died, and night - Came on, wind-swept and wild with rain, - We slept, ’mid many a bivouac light, - And vast fields heaped with slain. - - - II - - IN HOSPITAL - - Wounded to death he lay and dreamed - The drums of battle beat afar, - And round the roaring trenches screamed - The hell of war. - - Then woke; and, weeping, spoke one word - To the kind nurse who bent above; - Then in the whitewashed ward was heard - A song of love. - - The song _she_ sang him when she gave - The portrait that he kissed; then sighed, - “Lay it beside me in the grave!” - And smiled and died. - - - III - - THE SOLDIER’S RETURN - - A brown wing beat the apple leaves and shook - Some blossoms on her hair. Then, note on note, - The bird’s wild music bubbled. In her book, - Her old romance, she seemed to read. No look - Betrayed the tumult in her trembling throat. - - The thrush sang on. A dreamy wind came down - From one white cloud of afternoon and fanned - The dropping petals on her book and gown, - And touched her hair, whose braids of quiet brown - Gently she smoothed with one white jeweled hand. - - Then, with her soul, it seemed, from feet to brow - She felt him coming: ’t was his heart, his breath - That stirred the blossom on the apple bough; - His step the wood-thrush warbled to. And now - Her cheek went crimson, now as white as death. - - Then on the dappled page his shadow--yes, - Not unexpected, yet her haste assumed - Fright’s startle; and low laughter did confess - His presence there, soft with his soul’s caress - And happy manhood, where the rambo bloomed. - - Quickly she rose and all her gladness sent - Wild welcome to him. Her his unhurt arm - Drew unresisted; and the soldier leant - Fond lips to hers. She wept. And so they went - Deep in the orchard towards the old brick farm. - - - IV - - THE APPARITION - - A day of drought, foreboding rain and wind, - As if stern heaven, feeling earth had sinned, - Frowned all its hatred. When the evening came, - Along the west, from bank on bank unthinned - Of clouds, the storm unfurled its oriflamme. - - Then lightning signaled, and the thunder woke - Its monster drums, and all God’s torrents broke.-- - She saw the wild night when the dark pane flashed; - Heard, where she stood, the disemboweled oak - Roar into fragments when the welkin crashed. - - Long had she waited for a word. And, lo! - Anticipation still would not say “No:” - He has not written; he will come to her; - At dawn!--to-night!--Her heart hath told her so; - And so expectancy and love aver. - - She seems to hear his fingers on the pane-- - The glass is blurred, she can not see for rain: - Is _that_ his horse?--the wind is never still: - And _that_ his cloak?--ah, surely that is plain!-- - A torn vine tossing at the window-sill. - - She hurries forth to meet him; pale and wet, - She sees his face; the war-soiled epaulet; - A sabre-scar that bleeds from brow to cheek; - And now he smiles, and now their lips have met, - And now ... Dear heart, he fell at Cedar Creek! - - - V - - WOUNDED - - It was in August that they brought her news - Of his bad wounds; the leg that he must lose. - And August passed, and when October raised - Red rebel standards on the hills that blazed, - They brought a haggard wreck; she scarce knew whose, - Until they told her, standing stunned and dazed. - - A shattered shadow of the stalwart lad, - The five-months husband, whom his country had - Enlisted, strong for war; returning this, - Whose broken countenance she feared to kiss, - While health’s remembrance stood beside him sad, - And grieved for that which was no longer his. - - They brought him on a litter; and the day - Was bright and beautiful. It seemed that May - In woodland rambles had forgot her path - Of season, and, disrobing for a bath, - By the autumnal waters of some bay, - With her white nakedness had conquered Wrath. - - Far otherwise she wished it: wind and rain; - The sky, one gray commiserative pain; - Sleet, and the stormy drift of frantic leaves; - To match the misery that each perceives - Aches in her hand-clutched bosom, and is plain - In eyes and mouth and all her form that grieves. - - Theirs, a mute meeting of the lips; she stooped - And kissed him once: one long, dark side-lock drooped - And brushed against the bandage of his breast; - With feeble hands he held it and caressed; - Then all his happiness in one look grouped, - Saying, “Now I am home, I crave but rest.” - - Once it was love! but then the battle killed - All that sweet nonsense of his youth, and filled - His heart with sterner passion.--Ah, well! peace - Must balm its pain with patience; whose surcease - Means reconcilement; e’en as God hath willed, - With war or peace who shapes His ends at ease.-- - - What else for these but, where their mortal lot - Of weak existence drags rent ends, to knot - The frail unravel up!--while love (afraid - Time will increase the burthen on it laid), - Seeks consolation, that consoleth not, - In toil and prayer, waiting what none evade. - - - VI - - THE MESSAGE - - Long shadows toward the east: and in the west - A blaze of garnet sunset, wherein rolled - One cloud like some great gnarly log of gold; - Each gabled casement of the farm seemed dressed - In ghosts of roses blossoming manifest. - - And she had brought his letter there to read, - There on the porch, that faced the locust glade; - To watch the summer sunset burn and fade, - And breathe the twilight scent of wood and weed, - Forget all care and her soul’s hunger feed. - - And on his face her fancy mused a while: - “Dark hair, dark eyes.--And now he has a beard - Dark as his hair.”--She smiled; yet almost feared - It changed him so she could not reconcile - Her heart to that which hid his lips and smile. - - Then tried to feature, but could only see - The beardless man who bent to her and kissed - Her and their child and left them to enlist: - She heard his horse grind in the gravel: he - Waved them adieu and rode to fight with Lee. - - Now all around her drowsed the hushful hum - Of evening insects. And his letter spoke - Of love and longings to her: nor awoke - One echo of the bugle and the drum, - But all their future in one kiss did sum. - - The stars were thick now; and the western blush - Drained into darkness. With a dreamy sigh - She rocked her chair.--It must have been the cry - Of infancy that made her rise and rush - To where their child slept, and to hug and - hush. - - Then she returned. But now her ease was gone. - She knew not what, she felt an unknown fear - Press, tightening, at her heart-strings; then a tear - Scalded her eyelids, and her cheeks grew wan - As helpless sorrow’s, and her white lips drawn. - - With stony eyes she grieved against the skies, - A slow, dull, aching agony that knew - Few tears, and saw no answer shining to - Her silent questions in the stars’ still eyes - “Where Peace delays and where her soldier lies.” - - They could have told her. Peace was far away, - Beyond the field that belched black batteries - All the red day. ’Mid picket silences, - On woodland mosses, in a suit of gray, - Shot through the heart, he by his rifle lay. - - - VII - - THE WOMAN ON THE HILL - - The storm-red sun, through wrecks of wind and rain, - And dead leaves driven from the frantic boughs, - Where, on the hill-top, stood a gaunt, gray house, - Flashed wildest ruby on each rainy pane. - - Then woods grew darker than unburdened grief; - And, crimson through the woodland’s ruin, streamed - The sunset’s glare--a furious eye, which seemed - Watching the moon rise like a yellow leaf. - - The rising moon, against which, like despair, - High on the hill, a woman, darkly drawn, - The wild leaves round her, stood; with features wan, - And tattered dress and wind-distracted hair. - - As still as death, and looking, not through tears, - For the young face of one she knows is lost, - While in her heart the melancholy frost - Gathers of all the unforgotten years. - - What if she heard to-night a hurrying hoof, - Wild as the whirling of the withered leaf, - Bring her a more immedicable grief, - A shattered shape to live beneath her roof! - - The shadow of him who claimed her once as wife; - Her lover!--no!--the wreck of all their past - Brought back from battle!--Better to the last - A broken heart than heartbreak all her life! - - - - - MOSBY AT HAMILTON - - - Down Loudon lanes, with swinging reins, - And clash of spur and sabre, - And bugling of the battle-horn, - Six score and eight we rode that morn, - Six score and eight of Southern born, - All tried in war’s hot labor. - - Full in the sun, at Hamilton, - We met the South’s invaders; - Who, over fifteen hundred strong, - ’Mid blazing homes had marched along - All night, with Northern shout and song, - To crush the rebel raiders. - - Down Loudon lanes, with streaming manes, - We spurred in wild March weather; - And all along our war-scarred way - The graves of Southern heroes lay-- - Our guide-posts to revenge that day, - As we rode grim together. - - Old tales still tell some miracle - Of Saints in holy writing-- - But who shall say why hundreds fled - Before the few that Mosby led, - Unless it was that even the dead - Fought with us then when fighting. - - While Yankee cheers still stunned our ears, - Of troops at Harper’s Ferry; - While Sheridan led on his Huns, - And Richmond rocked to roaring guns, - We felt the South still had some sons - She would not scorn to bury. - - - - - THE FEUD - - - Rocks, trees and rocks; and down a mossy stone - The murmuring ooze and trickle of a stream - Through brambles, where the mountain spring lies lone,-- - A gleaming cairngorm where the shadows dream,-- - And one wild road winds like a saffron seam. - - Here sang the thrush, whose pure, mellifluous note - Dropped golden sweetness on the fragrant June; - Here cat-and blue-bird and wood-sparrow wrote - Their presence on the silence with a tune; - And here the fox drank ’neath the mountain moon. - - Frail ferns and dewy mosses and dark brush,-- - Impenetrable briers, deep and dense, - And wiry bushes;--brush, that seemed to crush - The struggling saplings with its tangle, whence - Sprawled out the ramble of an old rail-fence. - - A wasp buzzed by; and then a butterfly - In orange and amber, like a floating flame; - And then a man, hard-eyed and very sly, - Gaunt-cheeked and haggard and a little lame, - With an old rifle, down the mountain came. - - He listened, drinking from a flask he took - Out of the ragged pocket of his coat; - Then all around him cast a stealthy look; - Lay down; and watched an eagle soar and float, - His fingers twitching at his hairy throat. - - The shades grew longer; and each Cumberland height - Loomed, framed in splendors of the dolphin dusk. - Around the road a horseman rode in sight; - Young, tall, blond-bearded. Silent, grim, and brusque, - He in the thicket aimed--Quick, harsh, then husk, - - The echoes barked among the hills and made - Repeated instants of the shot’s distress.-- - Then silence--and the trampled bushes swayed:-- - Then silence, packed with murder and the press - Of distant hoofs that galloped riderless. - - - - - LYNCHERS - - - At the moon’s down-going, let it be - On the quarry hill with its one gnarled tree. - - The red-rock road of the underbrush, - Where the woman came through the summer hush. - - The sumac high and the elder thick, - Where we found the stone and the ragged stick. - - The trampled road of the thicket, full - Of footprints down to the quarry pool. - - The rocks that ooze with the hue of lead, - Where we found her lying stark and dead. - - The scraggy wood; the negro hut, - With its doors and windows locked and shut. - - A secret signal; a foot’s rough tramp; - A knock at the door; a lifted lamp. - - An oath; a scuffle; a ring of masks; - A voice that answers a voice that asks. - - A group of shadows; the moon’s red fleck; - A running noose and a man’s bared neck. - - A word, a curse, and a shape that swings; - The lonely night and a bat’s black wings. - - At the moon’s down-going, let it be - On the quarry hill with its one gnarled tree. - - - - - DEAD MAN’S RUN - - - He rode adown the autumn wood, - A man dark-eyed and brown; - A mountain girl before him stood - Clad in a homespun gown. - - “To ride this road is death for you! - My father waits you there; - My father and my brother, too-- - You know the oath they swear.” - - He holds her by one berry-brown wrist, - And by one berry-brown hand; - And he hath laughed at her and kissed - Her cheek the sun hath tanned. - - “The feud is to the death, sweetheart: - But forward must I ride.”-- - “And if you ride to death, sweetheart, - My place is by your side.” - - Low hath he laughed again and kissed - And helped her with his hand; - And they have galloped into the mist - That belts the autumn land. - - And they had passed by Devil’s Den, - And come to Dead Man’s Run, - When in the brush rose up two men, - Each with a levelled gun. - - “Down! down! my sister!” cries the one;-- - She gives the reins a twirl.-- - The other shouts, “He shot my son! - And now he steals my girl!” - - The rifles crack: she will not wail: - He will not cease to ride: - But, oh! her face is pale, is pale, - And the red blood stains her side. - - “Sit fast, sit fast by me, sweetheart! - The road is rough to ride!”-- - The road is rough by gulch and bluff, - And her hair blows wild and wide. - - “Sit fast, sit fast by me, sweetheart! - The bank is steep to ride!”-- - The bank is steep for a strong man’s leap, - And her eyes are staring wide. - - “Sit fast, sit fast by me, sweetheart! - The Run is swift to ride!”-- - The Run is swift with mountain drift, - And she sways from side to side. - - Is it a wash of the yellow moss, - Or drift of the autumn’s gold, - The mountain torrent foams across - For the dead pine’s roots to hold? - - Is it the bark of the sycamore, - Or peel of the white birch-tree, - The mountaineer on the other shore - Hath followed and still can see? - - No mountain moss or leaves, wild rolled, - No bark of birchen-gray!-- - Young hair of gold and a face death-cold - The wild stream sweeps away. - - - - - THE RAID - - - I - - Far in the forest, where the rude road winds - Through twisted briers and weeds, stamped down and caked - With mountain mire, the clashing boughs are raked - Again with rain whose sobbing frenzy blinds. - - There is a noise of winds; a gasp and gulp - Of swollen torrents; and the sodden smell - Of woodland soil, dead trees--that long since fell - Among the moss--red-rotted into pulp. - - Fogged by the rain, far up the mountain glen, - Deep in a cave, an elfish wisp of light; - And stealthy shadows stealing through the night - With strong, set faces of determined men. - - - II - - ’Twixt fog and fire, in pomps of chrysoprase, - Above vague peaks, the morning hesitates - Ere, o’er the threshold of her golden gates, - Speeds the wild splendor of her chariot’s rays. - - A gleaming glimmer in the sun-speared mist, - A cataract, reverberating, falls: - Upon a pine a gray hawk sits and calls, - Then soars away no bigger than a fist. - - Along the wild path, through the oaks and firs,-- - Rocks, where the rattler coils himself and suns,-- - Big-booted, belted, and with twinkling guns, - The posse marches with its moonshiners. - - - - - THE BROTHERS - - - Not far from here, it lies beyond - That low-hilled belt of woods. We ’ll take - This unused lane where brambles make - A wall of twilight, and the blond - Brier-roses pelt the path and flake - The margin waters of a pond. - - This is its fence--or that which was - Its fence once--now, rock rolled from rock, - One tangle of the vine and dock, - Where bloom the wild petunias; - And this its gate, the ragweeds block, - Hot with the insects’ dusty buzz. - - Two wooden posts, wherefrom has peeled - The weather-blistered paint, still rise; - Gaunt things--that groan when some one tries - The gate whose hinges, rust-congealed, - Snarl open:--on each post still lies - Its carven panther with a shield. - - We enter; and between great rows - Of locusts winds a grass-grown road; - And at its glimmering end,--o’erflowed - With quiet light,--the white front shows - Of an old mansion, grand and broad, - With grave, Colonial porticoes. - - Grown thick around it, dark and deep, - The locust trees make one vast hush; - Their brawny branches crowd and crush - Its very casements, and o’ersweep - Its rotting roofs: their tranquil rush - Haunts all its spacious rooms with sleep. - - Still is it called The Locusts; though - None lives here now. A tale ’s to tell - Of some dark thing that here befell; - A crime that happened years ago, - When past its walls, with shot and shell, - The war swept on and left it so. - - For one black night, within it, shame - Made revel, while, all here about, - With prayer or curse or battle-shout, - Men died and homesteads leapt in flame: - Then passed the conquering Northern rout, - And left it silent and the same. - - Why should I speak of what has been? - Or what dark part I played in all? - Why ruin sits in porch and hall - Where pride and gladness once were seen; - And why beneath this lichened wall - The grave of Margaret is green. - - Heart-broken Margaret! whose fate - Was sadder far than his who won - Her hand--my brother Hamilton-- - Or mine, who learned to know too late; - Who learned to know, when all was done, - And naught I did could expiate. - - To expiate is still my lot!-- - And, like the Ancient Mariner, - To show to others how things were, - And what I am, still helps me blot - A little from that crime’s red blur, - That on my life is branded hot. - - He was my only brother. She - A sister of my brother’s friend. - They met, and married in the end. - And I remember well when he - Brought her rejoicing home, the trend - Of war moved towards us sullenly. - - And scarce a year of wedlock when - Its red arms tore him from his bride. - With lips by hers thrice sanctified - He left to ride with Morgan’s men. - And I--I never could decide-- - Remained behind. It happened then. - - Long days went by. And, oft delayed, - A letter came of loving word - Scrawled by some camp-fire, sabre-stirred, - Or by a pine-knot’s fitful aid, - When in the saddle, armed and spurred - And booted for some hurried raid. - - Then weeks went by. I do not know - How long it was before there came, - Blown from the North, the clarion fame - Of Morgan, who, with blow on blow, - Had drawn a line of blood and flame - From Tennessee to Ohio. - - Then letters ceased; and days went on. - No word from him. The war rolled back, - And in its turgid crimson track - A rumor grew, like some wild dawn, - All ominous and red and black, - With news of our lost Hamilton. - - News hinting death or capture. Yet - No word was sure; till one day,--fed - By us,--some men rode up who said - They’d been with Morgan and had met - Disaster, and that he was dead, - My brother.--I and Margaret - - Believed them. Grief was ours too: - But mine was more for her than him: - Grief, that her eyes with tears were dim: - Grief, that became the avenue - For love, who crowned the sombre brim - Of death’s dark cup with rose-red hue. - - In sympathy,--unconsciously - Though it be given,--I hold, doth dwell - The germ of love that time shall swell - To blossom. Sooner then in me-- - When close relations so befell-- - That love should spring from sympathy. - - Our similar tastes and mutual bents - Combined to make us intimates - From our first meeting. Different states - Of interest then our temperaments - Begot. Then friendship, that abates - No love, whose soul it represents. - - These led to talks and dreams: how oft - We sat at some wide window while - The sun sank o’er the hills’ far file, - Serene; and of the cloud aloft - Made one vast rose; and mile on mile - Of firmament grew sad and soft. - - And all in harmony with these - Dim clemencies of dusk, afar - Our talks and dreams went; while the star - Of evening brightened through the trees: - We spoke of home; the end of war; - We dreamed of life and love and peace. - - How on our walks, in listening lanes - Or confidences of the wood, - We paused to hear the dove that cooed; - Or gathered wildflowers, taking pains - To find the fairest; or her hood - Filled with wild fruit that left deep stains. - - No echo of the drum or fife, - No hint of conflict entered in - Our thoughts then. Will you call it sin-- - Indifference to a nation’s strife? - What side might lose, what side might win, - Both immaterial to our life. - - Into the past we did not look: - Beyond what was we did not dream; - While onward rolled the thunderous stream - Of war, that, in its torrent, took - One of our own. No crimson gleam - Of its wild course around us shook. - - At last we knew. And when we learned - How he had fallen, Margaret - Wept; and, albeit my eyes were wet, - Within my soul I half discerned - A joy that mingled with regret, - A grief that to relief was turned. - - As time went on and confidence - Drew us more strongly each to each, - Why did no intimation reach - Its warning hand into the dense - Soul-silence, and confuse the speech - Of love’s unbroken eloquence! - - But, no! no hint to turn the poise, - Or check the impulse of our youth; - To chill it with the living truth - As with the awe of God’s own voice; - No hint, to make our hope uncouth; - No word, to warn us from our choice. - - To me a wall seemed overthrown - That social law had raised between; - And o’er its ruin, broad and green - A path went, I possessed alone; - The sky above seemed all serene; - The land around seemed all my own. - - What shall I say of Margaret - To justify her part in this? - That her young heart was never his? - But had been mine since first we met? - So would you say!--Enough it is - That when he left she loved him yet. - - So passed the spring, and summer sped; - And early autumn brought the day - When she her hand in mine should lay, - And I should take her hand and wed: - And still no hint that might gainsay, - No warning word of quick or dead. - - The day arrived; and with it born, - A battle, sullying the East - With boom of cannon, that increased, - And throb of musket and of horn: - Until at last, towards dusk, it ceased; - And men with faces wild and worn, - In fierce retreat, swept past; now groups; - Now one by one: now sternly white, - Or blood-stained; now with looks whose fright - Said all was lost: then sullen troops - That, beaten, still kept up the fight.-- - Then came the victors: shadowy loops - - Of men and horse, that left a crowd - Of officers in hall and porch.... - While through the land, around, the torch - Circled, and many a fiery cloud - Marked out the army’s iron march - In furrows red that pillage plowed, - - Here were we wedded.... Ask the years - How such could be, while over us - A sword of wrath swung ominous, - And on our cheeks its breath struck fierce!-- - All I remember is--’t was thus; - And Margaret’s eyes were wet with tears. - - No other cause my memory sees - Save this, _that_ night was set; and when - I found my home filled with armed men - With whom were all my sympathies - Of Union--why postpone it then? - So argued conscience into peace. - - And then it was, when night had passed, - There came to me an orderly - With word of a Confederate spy - Just taken; who, with head downcast, - Had asked one favor, this: “That I - Would see him ere he breathed his last.” - - I stand alone here. Heavily - My thoughts go back. Had I not gone, - The dead had still been dead! (for none - Had yet believed his story) he, - My dead-deemed brother, Hamilton, - Who in the spy confronted me. - - O you who never have been tried, - How can you judge me!--In my place - I saw him standing,--who can trace - My heart-thoughts then!--I turned aside, - A son of some unnatural race, - And did not speak: and so he died.... - - In hospital or prison, when - It was he lay; what had forbid - His home return so long: amid - What hardships he had suffered, then - I dared not ask; and when I did, - Long afterwards, inquire of men, - No thing I learned. But this I feel-- - He who had so returned to life - Was not a spy. Through stress and strife,-- - This makes my conscience hard to heal!-- - He had escaped: he sought his wife; - He sought his home that should conceal. - - And Margaret! Oh, pity her! - A criminal I sought her side, - Still thinking love was justified - In all for her--whatever were - The price: a brother thrice denied, - Or thrice a brothers murderer. - - Since then long years have passed away. - And through those years, perhaps, you ’ll ask - How to the world I wore my mask - Of honesty?--I can but say - Beyond my powers it was a task; - Before my time it turned me gray. - - And when at last the ceaseless hiss - Of conscience drove, and I betrayed - All to her, she knelt down and prayed: - Then rose: and ’twixt us an abyss - Was opened; and she seemed to fade - Out of my life: I came to miss - The sweet attentions of a bride: - For each appealing heart’s caress - In me her heart assumed a dress - Of dull indifference; till denied - To me was all responsiveness; - And then I knew her love had died. - - Ah, had she loaded me, perchance, - With wild reproach or even hate, - Such would have helped me hope and wait - Forgiveness and returned romance: - But ’twixt our souls, instead, a gate - She closed of silent tolerance. - - Yet, ’t was for love of her I lent - My soul to crime.... I question me - Often, if less entirely - I’d loved her, then, in that event - She had been justified to see - The deed alone stand prominent. - - The deed alone! But love records - In his own heart, I will aver, - No depth I did not feel for her - Beyond the plummet-reach of words: - And though there may be worthier, - No truer love this world affords - Than mine was, though it could not rise - Above itself. And so ’t was best, - Perhaps, that she saw manifest - The crime, so I,--as saw her eyes,-- - Might see; and so, in soul confessed, - Some life atonement might devise. - - Sadly my heart one comfort keeps, - That, towards her end, she took my hands - And said,--as one who understands,-- - “Had I but seen!--But love that weeps - Sees only as its loss commands.” - And sighed.--Beneath this stone she sleeps. - - Yes; I have suffered for that sin: - Yet in no instance would I shun - What I should suffer. Many a one, - Who heard my tale, has tried to win - Me to believe that Hamilton - It was not; and, though proven kin, - - This had not saved him. Still the stain - Of the intention--had I erred - And ’t was not he--had writ the word - Red on my soul that branded Cain: - For still my error had incurred - The fact of guilt that would remain. - - * * * * * - - Ah, love at best is insecure, - And lives with doubt and vain regret; - And hope and faith, with faces set - Upon the past, are never sure; - And through their fever, grief, and fret - The heart may fail that should endure. - - For in ourselves, however blend - The passions that make heaven and hell, - Is evil not accountable - For most the good we comprehend? - And through these two,--or ill, or well,-- - Man must evolve his spiritual end. - - It is with deeds that we must ask - Forgiveness: for, upon this earth, - Life walks alone from very birth - With death, hope tells us is a mask - For life beyond of vaster worth, - Where sin no more sets love a task. - - - EPILOGUE - - _Would I could sing of joy I only - Remember as without alloy: - Of life full-filled, that once was lonely: - Of love a treasure, not a toy: - Of grief, regret but makes the keener, - Of aspiration, failure mars-- - These would I sing, and sit serener. - Than song among the stars._ - - _Would I could sing of faith unbroken; - Of heart-kept vows, and not of tears: - Of promised faith and vows love-spoken, - That have been kept through many years: - Of truth, the false but leaves the truer; - Of trust, the doubt makes doubly sure-- - These would I sing, the noble doer - Whose dauntless heart is pure._ - - _I would not sing of time made hateful; - Of hope that only clings to hate: - Of charity, that grows ungrateful; - And pride that will not stand and wait.--_ - _Of humbleness, care hath imparted; - Of resignation, born of ills, - These would I sing, and stand high-hearted - As hope upon the hills._ - - _Once on a throne of gold and scarlet - I touched a harp and felt it break; - I dreamed I was a king--a varlet, - A slave, who only slept to wake!-- - Still on that harp my memory lingers, - While on a tomb I lean and read, - “Dust are our songs, and dust we singers, - And dust are all who heed.”_ - - - - - POEMS OF LOVE - - _What though I dreamed of mountain heights, - Of peaks, the barriers of the world, - Around whose tops the Northern Lights - And tempests are unfurled!_ - - _Mine are the footpaths leading through - Life’s lowly fields and woods,--with rifts, - Above, of heaven’s Eden blue,-- - By which the violet lifts_ - - _Its shy appeal; and, holding up - Its chaliced gold, like some wild wine, - Along the hillside, cup on cup, - Blooms bright the celandine._ - - _Where soft upon each flowering stock - The butterfly spreads damask wings; - And under grassy loam and rock - The cottage cricket sings._ - - _Where overhead eve blooms with fire, - In which the new moon bends her bow, - And, arrow-like, one white star by her - Burns through the afterglow._ - - _I care not, so the sesame - I find; the magic flower there, - Whose touch unseals each mystery - In water, earth, and air._ - - _That in the oak tree lets me hear - Its heart’s deep speech, its soul’s dim words; - And to my mind makes crystal clear - The messages of birds._ - - _Why should I care, who live aloof - Beyond the din of life and dust, - While dreams still share my humble roof, - And love makes sweet my crust._ - - - - - GERTRUDE - - - When first I gazed on Gertrude’s face, - Beheld her loveliness and grace; - Her brave gray eyes, her raven hair, - Her ways, more winsome than the spring’s; - Her smile, like some sweet flower, that flings - Its fragrance on the summer air; - And when, like some wild-bird that sings, - I heard her voice,--I did declare,-- - And still declare!--there is no one, - No girl beneath the moon or sun, - So beautiful to look upon! - And to my heart, as I know well, - Nothing seems more desirable,-- - Not Ophir gold, nor Orient pearls-- - Than seems this jewel-girl of girls. - - - - - LOVE - - - For him, who loves, each mounting morn - Breathes melody more sweet than birds’; - And every wind-stirred flower and thorn - Whispers melodious words:-- - Would you believe that everything - Through _her_ loved voice is made to sing? - - For her, the faultless skies of day - Grow nearer in eternal blue, - Where God is felt as wind and ray, - And seen as fire and dew:-- - Would you believe that all the skies - Are Heaven only through _his_ eyes? - - For them, the dreams that haunt the night - With mystic beauty and romance, - Are presences of starry light, - And moony radiance:-- - Would you believe this love of theirs - Could make for them a universe? - - - - - HEART OF MY HEART - - - I - - Here where the season turns the land to gold, - Among the fields our feet have known of old,-- - When we were children who would laugh and run, - Glad little playmates of the wind and sun,-- - Before came toil and care and years went ill, - And one forgot and one remembered still; - Heart of my heart, among the old fields here, - Give me your hands and let me draw you near, - Heart of my heart. - - - II - - Stars are not truer than your soul is true; - What need I more of heaven then than you? - Flowers are not sweeter than your face is sweet-- - What need I more to make my world complete? - O woman nature, love that still endures, - What strength hath ours that is not born of yours? - Heart of my heart, to you, whatever come, - To you the lead, whose love hath led me home. - Heart of my heart. - - - - - STROLLERS - - - I - - We have no castles, - We have no vassals, - We have no riches, no gems and no gold: - Nothing to ponder; - Nothing to squander-- - Let us go wander - As minstrels of old. - - - II - - You with your lute, love; - I with my flute, love, - Let us make music by mountain and sea: - You with your glances, - I with my dances, - Singing romances - Of old chivalry. - - - III - - “Derry down derry! - Good folk, be merry! - Hither! and hearken where happiness is! - Never go borrow - Care of to-morrow, - Never go sorrow - While life hath a kiss!” - - - IV - - Let the day gladden, - Or the night sadden, - We will be merry in sunshine or snow: - You with your rhyme, love, - I with my chime, love, - We will make Time, love, - Dance as we go. - - - V - - Nothing is ours; - Only the flowers, - Meadows, and stars, and the heavens above: - Nothing to lie for, - Nothing to sigh for, - Nothing to die for - While still we have love. - - - VI - - “Derry down derry! - Good folk, be merry! - Hither! and hearken a word that is sooth:-- - Care ye not any, - If ye have many, - Or not a penny, - If still ye have youth!” - - - - - THE BURDEN OF DESIRE - - - I - - In some dim way I know thereof: - A garden glows down in my heart, - Wherein I meet and often part - With many an ancient tale of love. - A Romeo garden, banked with bloom, - And trellised with the eglantine; - In which a rose climbs to a room, - A balcony one mass of vine, - Dim, haunted of perfume. - A balcony, whereon she gleams, - The soft Desire of all Dreams, - And smiles and bends like Juliet, - Year after year, - While to her side, all dewy wet, - A rose stuck in his ear, - Love climbs to draw her near. - - - II - - And in another way I know, - Down in my soul a graveyard lies, - Wherein I meet, in ghostly wise, - With many an ancient tale of woe. - A graveyard of the Capulets, - Deep-vaulted with ancestral gloom, - Through whose dark yews the moonlight jets - On many a wildly carven tomb, - That mossy mildew frets. - A graveyard where the Soul’s Desire - Sleeps, pale-entombed; and, kneeling by her, - Love, like that hapless Montague, - Year after year, - Weary and worn and wild of hue, - Within her sepulchre, - Falls bleeding on her bier. - - - - - THE TRYST - - - At dusk there fell a shower: - The leaves were dripping yet: - Each fern and rain-weighed flower - Around was gleaming wet, - When, through the evening glower, - His feet towards her were set. - - The dust’s damp odor sifted - Around him, cool with rain, - Mixed with the musk that drifted - From woodland and from plain, - Where white her garden lifted - Its pickets down the lane. - - And there she stood! ’mid scattered - Clove-pink and pea and whorl - Of honeysuckle,--flattered - To sweetness wild,--a girl, - O’er whom the clouds hung shattered - In moonlit peaks of pearl. - - She made the night completer - For him; and earth and air, - In that small spot, far sweeter - Than heaven or anywhere.-- - Swift were his lips to greet her, - Her lips love lifted there. - - - - - GYPSYING - - - Your heart ’s a-tune with April and mine a-tune with June, - So let us go a-roving beneath the summer moon. - Oh, was it in the sunlight, or was it in the rain, - We met among the blossoms within the locust lane? - All that I can remember ’s the bird that sang aboon, - And with its music in our hearts we ’ll rove beneath the moon. - - A love-word of the wind, dear, of which we ’ll read the rune, - While we two go a-roving beneath the summer moon. - A love-word of the water we ’ll often stop to hear-- - The echoed words and whispers of our own hearts, my dear. - And all our paths shall blossom with wild-rose sweets that swoon, - And with their fragrance in our hearts we ’ll rove beneath the moon. - - It will not be forever; yet merry goes the tune - While we two still are rovers beneath the summer moon. - A cabin, in the clearing, of flickering firelight, - When old-time lanes we strolled in the winter snows make white: - Where we can dream together above the logs and croon - The songs we sang when roving beneath the summer moon. - - - - - UNCERTAINTY - -“_‘He cometh not,’ she said._”--Mariana. - - - It will not be to-day and yet - I think and dream it will; and let - The slow uncertainty devise - So many sweet excuses, met - With the old doubt in hope’s disguise. - - The panes were sweated with the dawn; - Yet through their dimness, shriveled drawn, - The aigret of one princess-feather, - One monk’s-hood tuft with oilets wan, - I glimpsed, dead in the slaying weather. - - This morning when my window’s chintz - I drew, how gray the day was!--Since - I saw him, yea, all days are gray!-- - I gazed out on my dripping quince, - Defruited, torn; then turned away - To weep, but did not weep: but felt - A colder anguish than did melt - About the tearful-visaged Year!-- - Then flung the lattice wide and smelt - The autumn sorrow. Rotting near - - The rain-drenched sunflowers bent and bleached, - Up which the frost-nipped gourd-vines reached - And morning-glories, seeded o’er - With ashen aiglets; whence beseeched - One last bloom, frozen to the core. - - The podded hollyhocks--that Fall - Had stripped of finery--by the wall - Rustled their tatters; dripped and dripped, - The fog thick on them: near them, all - The tarnished, hag-like zinnias tipped. - - I felt the death and loved it: yea, - To have it nearer, sought the gray, - Chill, fading garth. Yet could not weep, - But wandered in an aimless way, - And yearned with weariness to sleep. - - Mine were the fog, the frosty stalks, - The weak lights on the leafy walks, - The shadows shivering with the cold; - The breaking heart; the lonely talks; - The last, dim, ruined marigold. - - But when, to-night, the moon swings low-- - A great marsh-marigold of glow-- - And all my garden with the sea - Moans, then, through moon and mist, I know - His ghost will come to comfort me. - - - - - LOST LOVE - - - I loved her madly. For--so wrought - Young Love, divining Isles of Truth - Large in the central seas of Youth-- - “Love will win love,” I thought. - - Once when I brought a rare wild pink - To place among her plants, the wise, - Soft lifting of her speaking eyes - Said more than thanks, I think.... - - She loved another.--Yes, I know - All you would say of woman. You, - Like other men, would comfort too.... - But then I loved her so. - - She loved another.--Ah! too well - I know the story of her soul!-- - A weary tale the weary whole - Of how she loved and fell. - - I loved her so!... Remembering now - My mad grief then, I wonder why - Grief never kills.... I could not die.-- - She died--I know not how. - - Strange, is it not? For she was dear - To me as life once.--A regret - She is now; just to make eyes wet - And bring a fullness here. - - Yet, had she lived as dead in shame - As now in death, Love would have used - Pride’s pitying pencil and abused - The memory of her name. - - This helps me thank my God, who led - My broken life in sunlight of - This pure affection, that my love - Lives through her being dead. - - - - - OVERSEAS - - _Non numero horas nisi serenas._ - - - When fall drowns morns in mist, it seems - In soul I am a part of it; - A portion of its humid beams, - A form of fog, I seem to flit - From dreams to dreams. - - An old chateau sleeps ’mid the hills - Of France: an avenue of sorbs - Conceals it: drifts of daffodils - Bloom by a ’scutcheoned gate with barbs - Like iron bills. - - I pass the gate unquestioned, yet, - I feel, announced. Broad holm-oaks make - Dark pools of restless violet. - Between high bramble banks a lake,-- - As in a net. - - The tangled scales twist silver,--shines ... - Gray, mossy turrets swell above - A sea of leaves. And where the pines - Shade ivied walls, there lies my love, - My heart divines. - - I know her window, dimly seen - From distant lanes with hawthorn hedged: - Her garden, with the nectarine - Espaliered, and the peach-tree, wedged - ’Twixt walls of green. - - Cool-babbling a fountain falls - From gryphons’ mouths in porphyry; - Carp haunt its waters; and white balls - Of lilies dip it that the bee - Sucks in and drawls. - - And butterflies, each with a face - Of faëry on its wings, that seem - Beheaded pansies, softly chase - Each other down the gloom and gleam - Trees interspace. - - And roses! roses, soft as vair, - Round sylvan statues and the old - Stone dial--Pompadours that wear - Their royalty of purple and gold - With queenly air.... - - Her scarf, her lute, whose ribbons breathe - The perfume of her touch; her gloves, - Modeling the daintiness they sheathe; - Her fan, a Watteau, gay with loves, - Lie there beneath - - A bank of eglantines that heaps - A rose-strewn shadow.--Naïve-eyed, - With lips as suave as they, she sleeps; - The romance by her, open wide, - O’er which she weeps. - - - - - AT THE STILE - - - Young Harry leapt over the stile and kissed her, - Over the stile when the sun was sinking; - ’T was only Carrie; just Mary’s sister!-- - And love hath a way of thinking. - - “Thy pail, sweetheart, I will take and carry.” - Over the stile one star hung yellow.-- - “Just to the spring, my dearest Harry.”-- - And Love is a heartless fellow. - - “Thou saidst me ‘yea’ in an April shower - Under this tree with leaves a-quiver.”-- - “I say thee nay now the cherry ’s in flower, - And love is taker and giver.” - - “O false! thou art false to me, sweetheart!”-- - The light in her eyes grew trist and trister: - “To thee, the stars, and myself, sweetheart, - I never was aught but Mary’s sister. - - “Sweet Mary’s sister! just little Carrie!-- - But what avail my words or weeping?-- - Next month, perhaps, you two will marry-- - And I in my grave be sleeping.” - - Alone she stands ’mid the meadow millet, - Wan as the petals the wind is strewing: - Some tears in her pail as she stoops to fill it-- - And love hath a way of doing. - - - - - FERN-SEED - -“_We have the receipt of fern-seed; we walk invisible._”--Henry IV. - - - And you and I have met but thrice!-- - Three times enough to make me love!-- - I praised your hair once; then your glove; - Your eyes; your gown--you were like ice. - And yet this might suffice, my love, - And yet this might suffice. - - I know now what it is I’ll do: - I’ll search and find the ferns that grow, - The fern-seed that the fairies know, - And sprinkle fern-seed in my shoe, - And haunt the steps of you, my dear, - And haunt the steps of you. - - You ’ll see the poppy-pods dip here, - The blow-ball of the thistle slip, - And no wind breathing--but my lip - Next to your anxious cheek and ear, - To tell you I am near, my love, - To tell you I am near. - - On wood-ways I will tread your gown-- - You ’ll know it is no brier!--then - I’ll whisper words of love again, - And smile to see your quick face frown; - And then I ’ll kiss it down, my dear, - And then I ’ll kiss it down. - - You ’ll sit at home and read or knit, - When suddenly the page is blotted-- - My hands!--or all your needles knotted: - And in your rage you ’ll cry a bit: - But I--I ’ll laugh at it, my love, - But I--I ’ll laugh at it. - - The secrets which you say at prayer - I too will hear; or, when you sing, - I too will sing, and whispering - Bend down and kiss your eyes and hair, - And you will know me there, my dear, - And you will know me there. - - Would it were true what people say!-- - Would I _could_ find that faëry seed! - Then would I win your love, indeed, - By being near you night and day:-- - There is no other way, my love, - There is no other way. - - - - - PORPHYROGENITA - - - I - - Was it when Kriemhild was queen - That we rode by ways forgotten - Through the Rhineland, dimly seen - ’Neath a low moon white as cotton? - I, a knight? or troubadour? - Thou, a princess?--or a poor - Damsel of the Royal Closes?-- - For, I met thee--somewhere sure!... - Was it ’mid Kriemhilda’s roses? - - - II - - Or in Venice, by the sea?-- - What romance grew up between us? - Thou, a doge’s daughter?--She, - Titian painted once as Venus?-- - I, a gondolier whose barque - Glided past thy palace dark?-- - Near St. Mark’s? or Casa d’Oro?-- - From thy casement didst thou hark - To my barcarolle’s “_Te oro_”? - - - III - - Klaia wast, of Egypt: yea, - Languid as its sacred lily. - Didst with me a year and day - Love upon the Isle of Philæ? - I, a priest of Isis?--Sweet, - ’Neath the date-palms did we meet - By a temple’s pillared marble? - While, from its star-still retreat, - Sank the nightingale’s wild warble? - - - IV - - Have I dreamed that I, thy slave, - From thy lattice, my sultana, - Beckoning, thy white hand did wave, - Dropped me once a rose? sweet manna - Of thy kiss warm in its heart? - That, through my Chaldæan art, - With thy Khalif’s bags of treasure, - From Damascus we did start, - Fled to some far land of pleasure? - - - V - - Was I one? another thou?-- - Let it be. What of it, dearest?-- - Haply ’tis the memory now - Of these passions dead thou fearest?-- - Nay! those loves are portions of, - Evolutions of this love, - Present love, where thou appearest - To combine them all and prove. - - - - - THE CASTLE OF LOVE - - _He speaks_ - - - I - - Now listen! ’tis time that you knew it.-- - Like the prince in the Asian tale, - I wandered on deserts that panted - With noon to a castle enchanted, - That Afrits had built in a vale; - A vale where the sunlight lay pale - As moonlight. And round it and through it - I searched and I searched. Like the tale, - - - II - - No eunuch, black-browed as a Marid, - Prevented me. Shadows it seemed - Were the slaves there, with kohl and with henné - In eyes and on fingers; and many - The phantoms of beauty, that dreamed - Where censers of ambergris steamed. - And I came on a colonnade, quarried - From silvery marble it seemed. - - - III - - And here, in a court, wide, estraded, - Rich tulips, like carbuncles, bloomed, - And jonquils and roses:--and lories, - And cockatoos, brilliant in glories - Of plumes, like great blossoms illumed, - Winged, splashed in a fountain perfumed: - Kept captive by network of braided, - Spun gold where stone galleries gloomed. - - - IV - - From nipples of back-bending Peris - Of gold, glowing auburn, in rays - The odorous fountain sprang calling: - I heard through the white water’s falling,-- - As soft as the zephyr that plays - With moonlight on bloom-haunted ways,-- - A music; a sound, as if fairies - Touched wind-harps whose chords were of rays. - - - V - - I followed: through corridors paneled - With sandal; through doorways deep-draped - With stuffs of Chosroës, rich-garded - With Indian gold; up the corded - Stone stairway, bronze-dragoned, wing-shaped: - Through moon-spangled hangings escaped-- - ’Twixt pillars of juniper channeled-- - To a room constellated and draped. - - - VI - - As in legends of witchcraft: a vassal - Of visions beholds naught yet hears - Sweet voices that call and he follows,-- - So me, like the fragrance of aloes, - That chamber with song, it appears, - Surrounded; the song of the spheres ... - My soul found your soul such a castle-- - Your love is the music it hears. - - - - - CONSECRATION - - _She speaks._ - - - Last night you told me, where we, parting, waited, - Of love somehow I’d known before you told.-- - Long, long ago, perhaps, this love was fated, - For why was it made suddenly so old? - - Is it because the love we have and cherish - Born with us seems, and as ourselves shall last? - Part of our lives, we can not let it perish - Out of our present’s future or its past? - - Yet, all was changed; and, still, I did not wonder - That, robed in vaster splendor, broke the dawn: - Nor marvel that, beside my feet and under, - Each flower seemed fairer than the flower gone. - - The wild bird’s silvery warble seemed completer; - A whiter magic filled the morn and noon, - And night--each night!--seemed holier grown and sweeter - With Babylonian witchcraft of the moon.-- - - Is love an emanation? whose ideal - Communicates its beauty?--Is it moved - Through some strange means to consecrate the real? - Making the world the worthier to be loved? - - - - - ROMANTIC LOVE - - - I - - Is it not sweet to know?-- - The moon hath told me so-- - That in some lost romance, love, - Long lost to us below, - A knight with casque and lance, love, - A thousand years ago, - I kissed you from a trance, love?-- - The moon hath told me so. - - - II - - Or were it strange to wis?-- - The stars have told me this-- - That once a nightingale, love, - Sang on an Isle of Greece; - From whose melodious wail, love, - Its song’s wild harmonies, - Was born a spirit-woman-- - Yourself! whom I, a human, - Made mine!... So goes the tale, love!-- - The stars have told me this. - - - III - - Is it not quaint to tell?-- - The flowers remember well-- - How once a wild-rose blew, love, - Dim in a haunted dell; - To which a bee was true, love. - The bee, so it befell, - Was _I_: the rose was _you_, love!... - The flowers remember well. - - - IV - - To moon and flower and star - We are not what we are.-- - Sometimes, from o’er that sea, love, - Whose golden sands are far,-- - From shores of Destiny, love,-- - The dreams that know no bar, - Will waft a truth that glistens - To Memory who listens, - Reminding you and me, love, - We are not what we are. - - - - - PASTORAL LOVE - - - The pied pinks tilt in the wind that worries-- - Sing, Oh, the wind and the red o’ her cheek!-- - And the slow sun creeps on the rye nor hurries-- - And what shall a lover speak? - - The toad-flax brightens the flaxen hollows-- - Sing, Ay, the bloom and her yellow hair!-- - And the greenwood brook a wood-way follows-- - And what shall a lover dare? - - The deep woods gleam that the sunlight sprinkles-- - Sing, Hey, the day and her laughing eye!-- - And a brown bird pipes and a wild fall tinkles-- - And what may a maid reply? - - Hey, the hills when the evening settles! - Oh, the heavens within her eyes! - What will he ask ’mid the dropping petals? - And what will she say with sighs?-- - - “Look, where the west is a blur of roses!”-- - “There’s naught like the rose o’ the cheeks I see!”-- - “Look, where the first star’s eye uncloses!”-- - “But what of _your_ eyes, my destiny?” - - - - - ANDALIA AND THE SPRINGTIME - - - I - - Blow, winds, and waken her! - You, who have taken her, - Never forsaken her, - Filled her with spring! - My mad and merriest - Part of the veriest - Season and cheeriest: - Blow, winds! and sing, - Birds of the spring! that taught her - Airs of the woods; this daughter - Wild of the winds, that waft her - Into my heart with laughter, - Wild as a wildwood thing. - - - II - - She, who is fraught with it, - Thrilled with it, brought with it, - Spring!--like a thought, with it - Beautiful too! - Now like a dream of it; - Filled with the gleam of it; - Now a bright beam of it, - Piercing me through, - Sweet, with her eyes that are often - Laughter and languor; that soften - Dreamily, drowsily, slowly, - Then, on a sudden, are wholly - Dancing as dew. - - - III - - Face,--like the sweetest of - Perfumes,--completest of - Flowers God’s fleetest of - Months ever bear!-- - Listen, O lisper wind,-- - Lighter and crisper wind,-- - Have you a whisper, wind, - Soft as her hair? - Night and the stars did spin it; - Darkness and brightness are in it: - Let but a ray of it bind me, - Wrap it around me and wind me, - Blind as the blind are and blinder, - Yet through my heart would I find her, - Lost though I were. - - - - - OLIVIA IN THE AUTUMN - - - Not redder than her lips - This weather! - Not rosier two rose-hips - Together! - As she comes carolling - Down wildwood ways, where sing - The birds, and flowers swing - In many a feather. - - Of her belovéd cheeks - October - Makes flame-flushed leaves, and speaks,-- - Now sober, - Now wild,--its happiness - In gold, and on her dress - Lays many a bright caress - As if to robe her. - - The wild-birds praise her eyes - Each hour; - Above her bend the skies - And shower - Around her, there and here, - Strays of the passing year, - Azure and gold and sere - Of weed and flower. - - The wood-winds kiss her hair - And wonder - What flower blossoms there: - And, under - Its deeps of acorn-brown, - Her glory and her crown, - The sunbeams lay them down, - And dream and ponder. - - And I--I take her hands, - Her lover; - And kiss her where she stands; - And over - Our heads the soft winds call, - And heav’n smiles down; and all - The golden dreams of Fall - Around us hover. - - - - - SYLVIA OF THE WOODLAND - - - I - - O you, who know our Mays that blow - The bluets by the ways; - The Indian-pink,--whose bloom you ’d think - Was blood for some wild bee to drink,-- - How--can you say--in their wise way - Is it you ’re like our Mays?-- - In gleam and gloom and wild perfume - Of moods that run from shade to sun:-- - While in you seems the light that dreams - In thoughts of other days. - - - II - - Meseems some song, for which I long, - From you to me takes wing - Each time you speak; a bird, whose beak - Is in my heart; whose wildwood art - Makes every beat say “Sweet, sweet, sweet,” - And all its pulses sing. - And when I gaze upon your face, - I seem to look into a brook, - That laughs through buds and leafing woods, - Reflecting all the spring. - - - III - - You spoke but now--and, lo! I vow, - From haunts of hart and hind - I seemed to hear Romance draw near, - White hand in hand with Song, and stand, - In some green aisle of wood, and smile, - Beguiling soul and mind: - You laugh--and, lo! I seem to go - In Mirth’s young train; and bird-songs rain - Around, above; and Joy and Love - Come dancing down the wind. - - - - - WITNESSES - - - I - - You say I do not love you!--Tell me why, - When I have gazed a little on your face, - And then gone forth into the world of men, - A beauty, neither of the earth nor sky, - A glamour, that transforms each common place, - Attends my spirit then? - - - II - - You say I do not love you!--Yet, I know, - When I have heard you speak and dwelt upon - Your words a while, my heart has gone away - Filled with strange music, very soft and low, - A dim companion, touching with sweet tone - The discords of the day. - - - III - - You say I do not love you!--Yet, it seems, - When I have kissed your hand and said farewell, - A fragrance, wilder than the wood’s wild bloom, - Companions dim my soul and fills, with dreams, - The sad and sordid streets where people dwell, - Dreams of spring’s wild perfume. - - - - - A PUPIL OF PAN - - - My love’s adorable and wise - As heaven and the winds of spring: - Go thou and gaze into her eyes-- - Such scholars of the starry skies! - --Canst marvel at the thing? - - My love is like a bud that blows - With fragrant honey in its heart: - Go, watch her smile--Wouldst not suppose - She from some warm, white, serious rose - Had learned the happy art? - - The thoughts she speaks are pearls unstrung - That strew her fancy’s golden floor: - Go listen--For, the woods among, - She met with Pan, when very young, - Who taught her all his lore. - - - - - LORA OF THE VALES - - - Lora is her name that slips - Soft as love between the lips: - You must know she is so wise - All she does is lift her eyes,-- - Larkspur-blue as April skies,-- - At her name--and that replies-- - She ’s so wise, is Lora. - - Lora is her name whose sound - Hedges all my heart around - With the gold of happiness: - When she speaks, you will confess, - Music’s self her words express, - Every vowel a caress-- - She ’s so kind, is Lora. - - Lora is her name that brings - Thoughts to me of morning things: - Songs of birds; of bees that creep - In the rumpled bluebells deep; - Butterflies, that, half asleep, - On some rose their vigil keep-- - She ’s so young, is Lora. - - Lora, lean to mine your face; - So; and round you let me lace - One firm arm, and gently woo - Your small mouth, as fresh as dew, - Till it says your heart is true, - True to me as mine to you, - Sunny-hearted Lora! - - - - - PLEDGES - - - I - - What the May-apple or - Woodland anemone-- - Star-perfect as a star-- - Says to the honey-bee: - Or to the winds that woo, - Filling their hearts with dew: - What says the bluet’s blue - To the sun’s ray--do you - Know or do I?-- - - - II - - Listen, and you may hear - What the oxalis says - Into the downy ear - Of the pale moth that sways - There on its heart and drinks: - Or what the forest-pinks - Say to the dew that winks, - Butterfly-wing that blinks-- - Glimmering by. - - - III - - They say: “When April trod - By in a blowing blush,-- - Wise as a word of God - Holding all Heaven a-hush,-- - Singing a song of love, - We, as she passed above, - Sprang from the notes thereof, - Filling with joy each grove, - Beauty and mystery.” - - - - - ORIENTAL ROMANCE - - - I - - Beyond lost seas of summer she - Dwelt on an island of the sea, - Last scion of that dynasty, - Queen of a race forgotten long,-- - With eyes of light and lips of song, - From seaward groves of blowing lemon, - She called me in her native tongue, - Low-leaned on some rich robe of Yemen. - - - II - - I was a king. Three moons we drove - Across green gulfs, the crimson clove - And cassia spiced, to claim her love. - Packed was my barque with gums and gold; - Rich fabrics; sandalwood, grown old - With odor; gems; and pearls of Oman,-- - Than her white breasts less white and cold;-- - And myrrh, less fragrant than this woman. - - - III - - From Bassora I came. We saw - Her condor castle on a claw - Of soaring precipice, o’erawe - The surge and thunder of the spray: - Like some great opal, far away - It shone, with battlement and spire, - Wherefrom, with wild aroma, day - Blew splintered lights of sapphirine fire. - - - IV - - Lamenting caverns, dark and deep, - That catacombed the haunted steep, - Led upward to her castle-keep ... - Fair as the moon, whose light is shed - In Ramadan, was she, who led - My love unto her island bowers, - To find her ... lying young and dead - Among her maidens and her flowers. - - - - - THE TOLLMAN’S DAUGHTER - - - She stood waist-deep among the briers: - Above, in twisted lengths, were rolled - The sunset’s tangled whorls of gold, - Blown from the west’s cloud-pillared fires. - And in the hush, no sound did mar, - You almost heard, o’er hill and dell, - Deep, bubbling over, star on star, - The night’s blue cisterns slowly well. - A crane, a shadowy crescent, crossed - The sunset, winging ’thwart the west; - While up the east her silver breast - Of light the moon brought, white as frost. - - So have I painted her, you see, - The tollman’s daughter.--What an arm - And throat were hers! and what a form! - --Art dreams of such divinity. - What braids of night to smooth and kiss!-- - There is no pigment anywhere - A man might use to picture this-- - The splendor of her raven hair. - A face as beautiful and bright, - As rosy fair as twilight skies, - Lit with the stars of hazel eyes - And eyebrowed black with penciled night. - - For her, I know, where’er she trod - Each dewdrop raised a looking-glass, - To catch her image, from the grass; - That wildflowers bloomed along the sod, - And whispered perfume when she smiled; - The wood-bird hushed to hear her song, - Or, heart-enamoured, tame though wild, - Before her feet flew fluttering long: - The brook went mad with melody, - Eddied in laughter when she kissed - With naked feet its amethyst-- - And I--she was my world, ah me! - - - - - CREOLE SERENADE - - - Under moss-draped oak and pine, - Murmuring, falls the fountained stream; - In its pool the lilies shine, - Silvery, each a glimmering gleam. - - Roses bloom and roses die - In the warm rose-scented dark, - Where the firefly, like an eye, - Winks and glows, a golden spark. - - Amber-belted through the night - Drifts the alabaster moon, - Like a big magnolia white - On the fragrant heart of June. - - With a broken syrinx there, - With bignonia overgrown, - Is it Pan in hoof and hair?-- - Or his image carved from stone? - - See! her casement’s jessamines part;-- - Through their stars and swooning scent - Like the moon she leans. O heart, - ’T is another firmament! - - - _Sings_: - - The dim verbena drugs the dusk - With lemon odors; everywhere - Wan heliotropes breathe drowsy musk - Into the jasmine-heavy air; - The moss-rose bursts its dewy husk - And spills its attar there. - - The orange at thy casement flings - Star-censers oozing rich perfumes; - The clematis, long-petaled, swings - Deep clusters of dark purple blooms; - With flowers, like moons or sylphide wings, - Magnolias light the glooms. - - Awake, awake from sleep! - Thy balmy hair, - Unbounden, deep on deep, - Like blossoms there,-- - That dew and fragrance weep,-- - Will fill the night with prayer. - Awake, awake from sleep! - - And dreaming here it seems to me - A dryad’s bosom grows confessed, - Nude in the dark magnolia tree, - That rustles with the murmurous West-- - Or is it but some bloom I see, - White as thy virgin breast? - - Through Southern heavens above are rolled - A million feverish stars, that burst, - Like gems, from out the caskets old - Of night, with fires that throb and thirst: - An oleander, showering gold, - The heav’n seems, star-immersed. - - Unseal, unseal thine eyes!-- - Too long her rod - Queen Mab sways o’er their skies - In realms of Nod!-- - Their starry majesties - Will fill the night with God. - Unseal, unseal thine eyes! - - - - - IDEAL DIVINATION - - - How I have thought of her, - Her I have never seen!-- - Now from a raying air - She, like the Magdalene, - Flowers--a face serene, - Radiant with raven hair. - - Now in a balsam scent - Laughs from the stars that gleam; - Naked and redolent, - Bends to me breasts of beam, - Eyes that were made to dream, - Throat that the dimples dent. - - Would she were real, ah me! - Would she were real and here! - And no “impossible she”! - But one to draw me near, - Hold me and name me dear!-- - But, that can never be! - - “Living, each learns to know - Life is not worth its pain; - Loving, each finds a woe - Or, at the end, a chain: - Fardled of hope we strain - Whither no hope may know. - - “Life is too credulous - Of time that beckons on. - Memory still serves us thus-- - Gauging each coming dawn - By a day dead and gone, - Day that ’s a part of us.” - - So says my soul, that ’s mocked - Here of the flesh and held; - Ever rebellion rocked, - Fighting, forever quelled; - Titan-like, fate-compelled, - Yearning to rise, but locked - - Supine where torrents pour - Hellward; on crags that, high, - Scarred of the thunder, gore - Heaven.... The vulture’s eye - Swims, and the harpies’ cry - Clangs through the ocean’s roar.... - - Then, like æolian light, - Calling, it hears her lips: - Scorched by her burning white - Splendor of arms and hips, - Slimy each horror slips - Back to its native night.... - - Rul’st thou some brighter star? - Inviolable queen - Of what the destinies are? - Thou, with thy light unseen - Filling my life with sheen, - Leading my soul afar! - - Thou, who oft leav’st thy skies, - Comest in dreams to me, - With amaranthine eyes, - Asphodel shadowy - Hair, and mysteriously - Say’st to my heart, “Arise! - - “Be not afraid to dare - All of life’s tyranny! - I will reward thee there! - There, where my love shall be - Thine to eternity!-- - Only be brave and bear!” - - - - - APOCALYPSE - - - Before I found her I had found - Within my heart, as in a brook, - Reflections of her: now a sound - Of imaged beauty, now a look. - - So when I found her, gazing in - Those Bibles of her eyes, above - All earth, I saw no word of sin; - Their holy chapters all were love. - - I read them through. I read and saw - The soul impatient of the sod-- - Her soul, that through her eyes did draw - Mine--to the higher love of God. - - - - - CAN I FORGET? - - - Can I forget how Love once led the ways - Of our two lives together, joining them; - How every hour was his anadem, - And every day a tablet in his praise! - Can I forget how, in his garden’s place, - Among the purple roses, stem to stem, - We heard the rumor of his robe’s bright hem, - And saw the aureate radiance of his face!-- - Though I beheld my soul’s high dreams down-hurled, - And Falsehood sit where Truth once towered white, - And in Love’s place usurping Lust and Shame, - Though flowers be dead within the winter world, - Are flowers not there? and starless though the night, - Are stars not there, eternal and the same? - - - - - MY ROSE - - - There was a rose in Eden once: it grows - On Earth now, sweeter for its rare perfume: - And Paradise is poorer by one bloom, - And Earth is richer. In this blossom glows - More loveliness than old seraglios - Or courts of kings did ever yet illume: - More purity than ever yet had room - In soul of nun or saint.--O human rose!-- - Who art initial and sweet period of - My heart’s divinest sentence; where I read - Love, first and last, and in the pauses, love; - Who art the dear ideal of each deed - Through which my life is strong to attain its goal,-- - Set in the mystic garden of my soul! - - - - - RESTRAINT - - - Dear heart and love! what happiness is it - To watch the firelight’s varying shade and shine - On thy young face; and through those eyes of thine-- - As through clear windows--to behold them flit, - In sumptuous chambers of thy mind’s chaste wit, - Thy soul’s fair fancies! then to take in mine - Thy hand, whose pressure brims my heart’s divine - Hushed rapture as with music exquisite! - When I remember how thy look and touch - Sway, like the moon, my blood with ecstasy, - I dare not think to what fierce heaven might lead - Thy soft embrace; or in thy kiss how much - Sweet hell,--beyond all help of me,--might be, - Where I were lost, where I were lost indeed! - - - - - IN JUNE - - - I - - Hotly burns the amaryllis, - Starred with ruby red: - Coolly stand the snowy lilies - In the lily-bed: - Emerald gleams the wild May-apple, - ’Neath its parasol, - And where gold the sunbeams dapple - Woods, and thrushes call, - Marion strolls with Moll, - Singing, “Fol-de-rol; - Fol-de, fol-de-rol. - - - II - - “March was but a blustering liar; - April, sad as night: - May, a milkmaid from the byre, - Full of love but light. - June, sweet June!--ah! she’s My Lady, - Fair and fine and tall, - Strolling down the woodways shady-- - June is best of all! - She is like my Moll! - Fol-de-rol-de-rol! - She is like sweet Moll!” - - - - - WILL O’ THE WISPS - - - Beyond the barley meads and hay, - What was the light that beckoned there? - That made her young lips smile and say: - “Oh, busk me in a gown of May, - And knot red poppies in my hair.” - - Over the meadow and the wood - What was the voice that filled her ears? - That sent into pale cheeks the blood, - Until each seemed a wild-brier bud - Mowed down by mowing harvesters?... - - Beyond the orchard, down the hill, - The water flows, the water swirls; - And there they found her past all ill, - Her pale dead face, sweet, smiling still, - The cresses caught among her curls. - - At twilight in the willow glen - What sound is that the silence hears, - When deep the dusk is hushed again, - And homeward from the fields strong men - And women go, the harvesters? - - One seeks the place where she is laid, - Where violets bloom from year to year-- - “O sunny head! O bird-like maid! - The orchard blossoms fall and fade - And I am lonely, lonely here.” - - Two stars look down upon the vale; - They seem to him the eyes of Ruth: - The low moon rises very pale - As if she, too, had heard the tale, - All heartbreak, of a maid and youth. - - - - - IN A GARDEN - - - The pink rose drops its petals on - The moonlit lawn, the moonlit lawn; - The moon, like some wide rose of white, - Drops down the summer night. - No rose there is - As sweet as this-- - Thy mouth, that greets me with a kiss. - - The lattice of thy casement twines - With jasmine vines, with jasmine vines; - The stars, like jasmine blossoms, lie - About the glimmering sky. - No jasmine tress - Can so caress - Like thy white arms’ soft loveliness. - - About thy door magnolia blooms - Make sweet the glooms, make sweet the glooms; - A moon-magnolia is the dusk - Closed in a dewy husk. - However much, - No bloom gives such - Soft fragrance as thy bosom’s touch. - - The flowers blooming now will pass, - And strew the grass, and strew the grass; - The night, like some frail flower, dawn - Will soon make gray and wan. - Still, still above, - The flower of - True love shall live forever, Love. - - - - -“IF I WERE HER LOVER” - - - I - - If I were her lover, - I’d wade through the clover - Over the fields before - The gate that leads to her door; - Over the meadows, - To wait, ’mid the shadows, - The shadows that circle her door, - For the heart of my heart and more. - And there in the clover - Close by her, - Over and over - I’d sigh her: - “Your eyes are as brown - As the Night’s, looking down - On waters that sleep - With the moon in their deep” ... - If I were her lover to sigh her. - - - II - - If I were her lover, - I’d wade through the clover - Over the fields before - The lane that leads to her door; - I’d wait, ’mid the thickets, - Or there by the pickets, - White pickets that fence in her door, - For the life of my life and more. - I’d lean in the clover-- - The crisper - For the dews that are over-- - And whisper: - “Your lips are as rare - As the dewberries there, - As ripe and as red, - On the honey-dew fed” ... - If I were her lover to whisper. - - - III - - If I were her lover, - I’d wade through the clover - Over the fields before - The pathway that leads to her door; - And watch, in the twinkle - Of stars that sprinkle - The paradise over her door, - For the soul of my soul and more. - And there in the clover - I’d reach her; - And over and over - I’d teach her-- - A love without sighs, - Of laughterful eyes, - That reckoned each second - The pause of a kiss, - A kiss and ... that is - If I were her lover to teach her. - - - - - NOËRA - - - Noëra, when sad fall - Has grayed the fallow, - Leaf-cramped the wood-brook’s brawl - In pool and shallow; - When, by the wood-side, tall - Stands sere the mallow: - - Noëra, when gray gold - And golden gray - The crackling hollows fold - By every way, - Shall I thy face behold, - Dear bit of May? - - When webs are cribs for dew, - And gossamers - Streak past you, silver-blue; - When silence stirs - One leaf, of rusty hue, - Among the burrs: - - Noëra, thro’ the wood, - Or thro’ the grain, - Come, with the hoiden mood - Of wind and rain - Fresh in thy sunny blood, - Sweetheart, again! - - Noëra, when the corn, - Heaped on the fields, - The asters’ stars adorn-- - And purple shields - Of ironweeds lie torn - Among the wealds: - - Noëra, haply then, - Thou being with me, - Each ruined greenwood glen - Will bud and be - Spring’s with the spring again, - The spring in thee. - - Thou of the breezy tread, - Feet of the breeze: - Thou of the sunbeam head, - Heart like a bee’s: - Face like a woodland-bred - Anemone’s. - - Thou to October bring - An April part! - Come, make the wild-birds sing, - The blossoms start! - Noëra, with the spring - Wild in thy heart! - - Come with our golden year; - Come as its gold: - With the same laughing, clear, - Loved voice of old: - In thy cool hair one dear - Wild marigold. - - - - - AMONG THE ACRES OF THE WOOD - - - I - - “I know, I know; - The way doth go - Athwart a greenwood glade, oh! - White bloom the wild-plums in that glade, - White as the bosom of the maid - Who, stooping, sits, and milks and sings - Among the dew-dashed clover rings, - When fades the flush, the henna blush, - The orange-glow of sunset low, - And all the winds are laid, oh!” - - - II - - “I wot, I wot.-- - And is it not - Right o’er the viney hill?--” - “Yea: where the wild-grapes mat and make - Penthouses of each bramble-brake, - And dangle plumes of fragrant blooms: - Where threads of sunbeams string the glooms - With beaded gold; and flowers unfold - Their eyes of blue;--and all night through - Sings, wildly shrill, one whippoorwill.” - - - III - - “I ween, I ween, - The path is green - ’Neath beechen boughs that let - Soft glimpses of the sapphire sky - Gleam downward like a wood-nymph’s eye: - At night one far and lambent star - Shines o’er it, like a watching Lar, - ’Mid branching buds a tangled bud - Among the acres of the wood, - Where blooms the wet wild violet - And only we have, trysting, met.” - - - - - WORDS - - - I can not tell what I would tell thee, - What I would say, what thou shouldst hear; - Words of the soul that should compel thee, - Words of the heart to draw thee near. - - For when thou smilest, thou, who fillest - My life with joy, and I would speak, - ’Tis then my lips and tongue are stillest, - Knowing all language is too weak. - - Look in my eyes: read there confession: - The truest love hath least of art: - Nor needs it words for its expression - When soul speaks soul and heart speaks heart. - - - - - THE SIRENS - - - Wail! wail! and smite your lyres’ sonorous gold, - And beckon naked beauty; luring me - With arms and breasts and hips of godly mold, - Dark, wind-wild locks seen through the surf-blown sea! - - Vain all your magic! dull in unclosed ears! - Beside one voice sweet-calling o’er the foam, - That, in my heart, like some strong hand appears - To gently, firmly draw my vessel home. - - - - - WHY? - - - Why are the bright stars brighter after rain? - Why is strong love the stronger after pain? - Reply, reply! - - Why sings the wild swan heavenliest when it dies? - Why is fair love the fairest when it flies? - Oh why! Oh why! - - Why are sweet kisses sweetest when they’re dead? - Why is love loveliest when ’tis buriéd? - Reply, reply! - - - - - NOCTURNE - - - A disc of violet blue, - Rimmed with a thorn of fire, - The new moon hangs in a sky of dew; - And under the vines, where the sunset’s hue - Is blent with blooms, first one, then two, - Begins the crickets’ choir. - - Bright blurs of golden white, - With points of pearly glimmer, - The first stars wink in the web of night; - And through the flowers the moths take flight, - In the honeysuckle-colored light, - Where the shadowy shrubs grow dimmer. - - Soft through the dim and dying eve, - Sweet through the dusk and dew, - Come, while the hours their witchcraft weave, - Dim in the House of the Soul’s-sweet-leave, - Here in the pale and perfumed eve, - Here where I wait for you. - - A great, dark, radiant rose, - Dripping with starry glower, - Is the night, whose bosom overflows - With the balsam musk of the breeze that blows - Into the heart, as each one knows, - Of every nodding flower. - - A voice that sighs and sighs, - Then whispers like a spirit, - Is the wind, that kisses the drowsy eyes - Of the primrose open, and, rocking, lies - In the lily’s cradle, and soft unties - The rose-bud’s crimson near it. - - Sweet through the deep and dreaming night, - Soft through the dark and dew, - Come, where the moments their magic write, - Deep in the Book of the Heart’s-delight, - Here in the hushed and haunted night, - Here where I wait for you. - - - - - METAMORPHOSIS - - - Before Love’s lofty goddess--Life hath toiled - To mold from burning dew and dewy fire-- - Who kneel and worship with a heart sin-soiled, - Within the secret Temple of Desire; - - Their curse is such: that, even while they pray,-- - They shall not see, nor shall they know thereof!-- - Their Deity is changed from fire to clay-- - Lust! fashioned in the very form of Love. - - - - - AT TWENTY-ONE - - - The rosy hills of her high breasts, - Whereon, like misty morning, rests - The breathing lace; her auburn hair, - Wherein, a star-point sparkling there, - One jewel burns: her eyes, that keep - Recorded dreams of love and sleep: - Her mouth, with whose comparison - The richest rose were poor and wan: - Her throat, her form--what masterpiece - Of man can picture half of these!-- - She comes! a classic from the hand - Of God! wherethrough I understand - What Nature means and Art and Love, - And all the immortal myths thereof. - - - - - KINSHIP - - - There is no flower of wood or lea, - No April flower, as fair as she: - O white anemone, who hast - The wind’s wild grace, - Know her a cousin of thy race, - Into whose face - A presence like the wind’s hath passed. - - There is no flower of wood or lea, - No May-day flower, as fair as she: - O bluebell, tender with the blue - Of sapphire skies, - Thy lineage hath kindred ties - In her, whose eyes - The heaven’s own qualities imbue. - - There is no flower of wood or lea, - No June-time flower, as fair as she: - Rose,--odorous with beauty of - Her lips that pressed,-- - Behold thy sister here confessed! - Whose maiden breast - Is fragrant with the dreams of love. - - - - -“SHE IS SO MUCH” - - - She is so much to me, to me, - And, oh, I love her so, - I look into my soul and see - How comfort keeps me company - In hopes she, too, may know. - I love her, I love her, I love her, - This I know. - - So dear she is to me, so dear, - And, oh, I love her so, - I listen in my heart and hear - The voice of gladness singing near - In thoughts she, too, may know. - I love her, I love her, I love her, - This I know. - - So much she is to me, so much, - And, oh, I love her so, - In heart and soul I feel the touch - Of angel callers, that are such - Dreams as she, too, may know. - I love her, I love her, I love her, - This I know. - - - - - HER EYES - - - In her dark eyes dreams poetize; - The soul sits lost in love: - There is no thing in all the skies, - To gladden all the world I prize, - Like the deep love in her dark eyes, - Or one sweet dream thereof. - - In her dark eyes, where thoughts arise, - Her soul’s soft moods I see: - Of hope and faith, that make life wise; - And charity, whose food is sighs-- - Not truer than her own true eyes - Is truth’s divinity. - - In her dark eyes the knowledge lies - Of an immortal sod, - Her soul once trod in angel guise, - Nor can forget its heavenly ties, - Since, there in Heaven, upon her eyes - Once gazed the eyes of God. - - - - - MESSENGERS - - - The wind, that gives the rose a kiss, - With murmured music of the south, - Hath kissed a sweeter thing than this;-- - The wind, that gives the rose a kiss,-- - Hath kissed the red rose of her mouth. - - The brook, that mirrors skies and trees, - And echoes in a grottoed place, - Hath held a fairer thing than these;-- - The brook, that mirrors skies and trees, - Hath held the image of her face. - - O happy wind! O happy brook! - What message from her do you bear?-- - “We bear from her her kiss and look--” - O happy wind! O happy brook!-- - “That blessed us unaware.” - - - - - APART - - - I - - While sunset burns and stars are few, - And roses scent the fading light; - And, like a slim urn, dripping dew, - A spirit carries through the night, - The pearl-pale moon hangs new,-- - I think of you, of you. - - - II - - While waters flow, and soft winds woo - The golden-hearted bud with sighs; - And, like a flower an angel threw, - Out of the momentary skies - A star falls, burning blue,-- - I dream of you, of you. - - - III - - While love believes and hearts are true, - So let me think, so let me dream; - The thought and dream so wedded to - Your face, that, far apart, I seem - To see each thing you do, - And be with you, with you. - - - - - THE BLIND GOD - - - I know not if she be unkind; - If she have faults, I do not care. - Search through the world--where will you find - A face like hers, a form, a mind?-- - I love her to despair! - - If she be cruel, cruelty - Is a great virtue, I will swear: - If she be proud, then pride must be - Better than all humility.-- - I love her to despair! - - Why speak to me of that or this? - All you may say weighs not a hair! - To me, naught but perfection is - In her, whose lips I may not kiss!-- - I love her to despair! - - - - - CARA MIA - - - I - - Sweet lips, where kisses sleep, - Soft eyes, so filled with dreams, - Waken, oh waken! - Open your blossoms deep, - Sweet lips, where kisses sleep: - Unfold your brightest beams, - Soft eyes, so filled with dreams: - Waken, oh, waken! - - - II - - Sweet lips, that give perfume, - Soft eyes, that kindle light, - Come, let me kiss you!-- - To every flower in bloom, - Sweet lips, you lend perfume! - In every star at night, - Soft eyes, you kindle light!-- - Come, let me kiss you! - - - III - - Who would not love to rest? - Who would not love to lie? - Who would not love them? - Of such sweet flowers caressed, - Who would not love to rest? - With such stars in their sky, - Who would not love to lie? - Who would not love them? - - - - - MARGERY - - - I - - When spring is here and Margery - Goes walking in the woods with me, - She is so white, she is so shy, - The little leaves clap hands and cry-- - “Perdie; - So white is she, so shy is she, - Ah me! - The maiden May hath just passed by!” - - - II - - When summer ’s here and Margery - Goes walking in the fields with me, - She is so pure, she is so fair, - The wildflowers eye her and declare-- - “Perdie! - So pure is she, so fair is she, - Just see, - Where our sweet cousin takes the air!” - - - III - - Why is it that my Margery - Hears nothing that these say to me? - She is so good, she is so true, - My heart it maketh such ado, - Perdie! - So good is she, so true is she, - You see, - She can not hear the other two. - - - - - CONSTANCE - - - Beyond the orchard, in the lane, - The crested red-bird sings again-- - O bird, whose song says, “Have no care,” - Should I not care when Constance there,-- - My Constance with the bashful gaze, - Pink-gowned like some sweet hollyhock,-- - If I declare my love, just says - Some careless thing as if in mock? - Like--“Past the orchard, in the lane, - Hark! how the red-bird sings again!” - - There, while the red-bird sings his best, - His listening mate sits on the nest-- - O bird, whose patience says, “All ’s well,” - How can it be with me, come, tell? - When Constance, with averted eyes,-- - Soft-bonneted as some sweet-pea,-- - If I talk marriage, just replies - With some such quaint irrelevancy, - As, “While the red-bird sings his best, - His loving mate sits on the nest.” - - What shall I say? what can I do? - Would such replies mean aught to you, - O birds, whose music says, “Be glad”? - Have I not reason to be sad - When Constance, with demurest glance, - Her face all poppied with distress, - If I reproach her, pouts, perchance, - And answers thus in waywardness?-- - “What shall I say? what can I do? - My meaning should be plain to you!” - - - - - LYDIA - - - When Autumn’s here and days are short, - Let Lydia laugh and, hey! - Straightway ’t is May-day in my heart, - And blossoms strew the way. - - When Summer ’s here and days are long, - Let Lydia sigh and, ho! - December’s fields I walk among, - And shiver in the snow. - - No matter what the seasons are, - My Lydia is so dear, - My heart admits no calendar - Of Earth when she is near. - - - - - HELEN - - - Heaped in raven loops and masses - Over temples smooth and fair, - Have you marked it, as she passes, - Night and starlight mingled there,-- - Braided strands of midnight air,-- - Helen’s hair? - - Deep with dreams and moony mazes - Of the thought that in them lies, - Have you seen them, as she raises - Them in question or surprise,-- - Two gray gleams of daybreak skies,-- - Helen’s eyes? - - Fresh as dew and honied wafters - Of a music sweet that slips, - Have you marked them, brimmed with laughter’s - Song and sunshine to their tips,-- - Blossoms whence the perfume drips,-- - Helen’s lips? - - He who sees her needs must love her: - But, beware, whoe’er thou art! - Lest like me thou shouldst discover - Nature overlooked one part, - In this masterpiece of art-- - Helen’s heart. - - - - - MIGNON - - - Oh, Mignon’s mouth is like a rose, - A red, red rose, that half uncurls - Sweet petals o’er a crimson bee: - Or like a shell, that, opening, shows - Within its rosy curve white pearls, - White rows of pearls, - Is Mignon’s mouth that smiles at me. - - Oh, Mignon’s eyes are like blue gems, - Two azure gems that gleam and glow, - Soft sapphires set in ivory: - Or like twin violets, whose stems - Bloom blue beneath the covering snow, - The lidded snow, - Are Mignon’s eyes that laugh at me. - - O mouth of Mignon, Mignon’s eyes! - O eyes of violet, mouth of fire!-- - Within which lies all ecstasy - Of tears and kisses and of sighs:-- - O mouth, O eyes, and O desire, - O love’s desire, - Have mercy on the soul of me! - - - - - TRANSUBSTANTIATION - - - I - - A sunbeam and a drop of dew - Lay on a red rose in the South: - God took the three and made her mouth, - Her sweet, small mouth, - So red of hue,-- - The burning baptism of His kiss - Still fills my heart with heavenly bliss. - - - II - - A dream of truth and love come true - Slept on a star in daybreak skies: - God mingled these and made her eyes, - Her dear, clear eyes, - So gray of hue,-- - The high communion of His gaze - Still fills my soul with deep amaze. - - - - - LOVE AND A DAY - - - I - - In girandoles of gladioles - The day had kindled flame; - And Heaven a door of gold and pearl - Unclosed, whence Morning,--like a girl, - A red rose twisted in a curl,-- - Down sapphire stairways came. - - Said I to Love: “What must I do? - What shall I do? what can I do?” - Said I to Love: “What must I do, - All on a summer’s morning?” - - Said Love to me: “Go woo, go woo.” - Said Love to me: “Go woo. - If she be milking, follow, O! - And in the clover hollow, O! - While through the dew the bells clang clear, - Just whisper it into her ear, - All on a summer’s morning.” - - - II - - Of honey and heat and weed and wheat - The day had made perfume; - And Heaven a tower of turquoise raised, - Whence Noon, like some pale woman, gazed-- - A sunflower withering at her waist-- - Within a crystal room. - - Said I to Love: “What must I do? - What shall I do? what can I do?” - Said I to Love: “What must I do, - All in the summer nooning?” - - Said Love to me: “Go woo, go woo.” - Said Love to me: “Go woo. - If she be ’mid the rakers, O! - Among the harvest acres, O! - While every breeze brings scents of hay, - Just hold her hand and not take ‘nay,’ - All in the summer nooning.” - - - III - - With song and sigh and cricket cry - The day had mingled rest; - And Heaven a casement opened wide - Of opal, whence, like some young bride, - The Twilight leaned, all starry eyed, - A moonflower on her breast. - - Said I to Love: “What must I do? - What shall I do? what can I do?” - Said I to Love: “What must I do, - All in the summer gloaming?” - - Said Love to me: “Go woo, go woo.” - Said Love to me: “Go woo, - Go meet her at the trysting, O! - And ’spite of her resisting, O! - Beneath the stars and afterglow, - Just clasp her close and kiss her--so, - All in the summer gloaming.” - - - - - LOVE IN A GARDEN - - - I - - Between the rose’s and the canna’s crimson, - Beneath thy window in the night I stand; - The jeweled dew hangs little stars, in rims, on - The white moonflowers; each a spirit hand - That points the path to mystic Shadowland. - - Awaken, sweet and fair! - And add to night thy grace! - Suffer its loveliness to share - The white moon of thy face, - The dark cloud of thy hair. - Awaken, sweet and fair! - - - II - - A moth, like down, swings on th’ althea’s pistil,-- - Ghost of a tone that haunts its bell’s deep dome;-- - And in the August-lily’s cone of crystal - A firefly hangs the lantern of a gnome, - Green as a gem that gleams through hollow foam. - - Approach! the moment flies! - O sweetheart of the South! - Come! mingle with night’s mysteries - The red rose of thy mouth, - The dark stars of thine eyes.-- - Approach! the moment flies! - - - III - - Dim through the dusk, like some unearthly presence, - The night-song silvers of a dreaming bird; - And with it borne, faint on a breeze-blown essence, - The rainy whisper of a fountain’s heard-- - As if young lips had breathed a perfumed word. - - How long, my love, my bliss! - How long must I await - With night--that all impatience is-- - Thy greeting at the gate, - And at the gate thy kiss? - How long, my love, my bliss! - - - - - FLORIDIAN - - - I - - The cactus and the aloe bloom - Beneath the window of your room; - That window where, at evenfall, - Beneath the twilight’s first pale star, - You linger, tall and spiritual, - And hearken my guitar. - - It is the hour - When every flower - Is wooed of moth or bee-- - Would, would you were the flower, dear, - And I the moth to draw you near, - To draw you near to me, - My dear, - To draw you near to me! - - - II - - The jasmine and bignonia spill - Their balm about your windowsill; - That sill where, when magnolia-white, - In foliage mists, the moon hangs far, - You lean with bright deep eyes of night, - And hearken my guitar. - - It is the hour - When from each flower - The wind woos essences-- - Would, would you were the flower, love, - And I the wind to breathe above, - To breathe above and kiss, - My love, - To breathe above and kiss! - - - - - WHEN SHIPS PUT OUT TO SEA - - - I - - It’s “Sweet, good-by,” when pennants fly - And ships put out to sea; - It ’s a loving kiss, and a tear or two - In an eye of brown or an eye of blue:-- - And you’ll remember me, - Sweetheart, - And you’ll remember me. - - - II - - It’s “Friend or foe?” when signals blow - And ships sight ships at sea; - It’s “Clear for action! and man the guns!” - As the battle nears and the battle runs;-- - And you’ll remember me, - Sweetheart, - And you’ll remember me. - - - III - - It’s deck to deck, and wrath and wreck, - When ships meet ships at sea; - It’s scream of shot and shriek of shell, - And hull and turret a roaring hell;-- - And you’ll remember me, - Sweetheart, - And you’ll remember me. - - - IV - - It’s doom and death, and pause a breath, - When ships go down at sea; - It’s hate is over and love begins, - And war is cruel whoever wins;-- - And you’ll remember me, - Sweetheart, - And you’ll remember me. - - - - - A CHRISTMAS CATCH - - - When roads are mired with ice and snow, - And the air of morn is crisp with rime; - When the holly hangs by the mistletoe, - And bells ring in the Christmas-time:-- - It’s--Saddle, my Heart! and ride away - To the sweet-faced girl with eyes of gray! - Who waits with a smile for the gifts you bring-- - A man’s strong love and a wedding-ring-- - It’s--Saddle, my Heart, and ride! - - When vanes veer north and storm-winds blow, - And the sun at noon is a blur o’erhead; - When the holly hangs by the mistletoe, - And the Christmas service is sung and said:-- - It’s--Come, O my Heart, and wait a while, - Where the organ peals, in the altar aisle, - For the gifts that the church now gives to you-- - A woman’s hand and a heart that’s true. - It’s--Come, O my Heart, and wait! - - When rooms gleam warm with the fire’s glow, - And the sleet raps sharp on the window-pane: - When the holly hangs by the mistletoe, - And Christmas revels begin again:-- - It’s--Home, O my Heart, and love, at last! - And her happy breast to your own held fast: - A song to sing and a tale to tell, - A good-night kiss and all is well. - It’s--Home, O my Heart, and love! - - - - - A SONG FOR YULE - - - I - - Sing, Hey, when the time rolls round this way, - And bells peal out, _’Tis Christmas Day_! - The world is better then by half, - For joy, for joy: - In a little while you will see it laugh-- - For a song’s to sing and a glass to quaff, - My boy; my boy. - So here ’s to the man who never says nay!-- - Sing, Hey, a song of Christmas Day! - - - II - - Sing, Ho, when roofs are white with snow, - And homes are hung with mistletoe: - Old Earth is not half bad, I wis-- - What cheer! what cheer! - How it ever seemed sad the wonder is-- - With a gift to give and a girl to kiss, - My dear; my dear. - So here ’s to the girl who never says no! - Sing, Ho, a song of the mistletoe! - - - III - - No thing in the world to the heart seems wrong - When the soul of a man walks out with song; - Wherever they go, glad hand in hand, - And glove in glove, - The round of the land is rainbow-spanned, - And the meaning of life they understand - Is love; is love. - Let the heart be open, the soul be strong, - And life will be glad as a Christmas song. - - - - - CHORDS - - - I - - When love delays, when love delays and joy - Steals like a shadow o’er the happy hills; - When hope is gone; and no to-morrow fills - The promise of to-day; still I employ - My soul with thoughts of thee, - Who ’rt not for me, for me! - - When love delays, when love delays and song - Aches at wild lips, unutterable, as the sound - Of ocean strives, within the shell’s mouth bound; - And hope is gone for ever, slain of wrong; - Still in my heart one word - Keeps calling like a bird. - - When love delays, when love delays and sleep - Seals tired eyelids,--like the sound of foam, - Heard ’mid familiar flowers far from home,-- - When hope lies dead; in dreams, in dreams I keep - Feeling thy lips’ sweet touch,-- - And, oh! it is too much! - - When love delays, when love delays and sorrow - Drinks her own tears that add but to her thirst; - When song and sleep and love itself seem curst, - And hope lies dead; still, still I dream to-morrow - Will bring some word of cheer - From thee who art not here. - - Will love delay, will love delay till death - Hath sealed these lips and locked these eyes in night? - Till unto love and hate indifferent quite - This form shall lie? Then wilt thou, wild of breath, - Bend down and kiss me there - When I no more shall care? - - - II - - If thou wouldst know the Beautiful that breathes - And beckons through the World, far must thou seek!... - She is no shadow wreathed with hemlock wreaths; - No drowsy sorrow whose wan eyes are weak - With melancholy vigils; and no shade - Of tragic sin of the sweet sun afraid: - No tearful anger torn of truthless love, - Who stabs her sick heart to the dagger’s hilt - For vengeance sweet; no miser mood, or maid, - In owlet towers!--Nay! she sings above - On morning meads ’mid flowers that never wilt. - - If thou dost seek the Beautiful, beware! - Lest thou discover her, nor know ’tis she; - And she enslave thee to thy heart’s despair, - And fill thy soul with yearning, utterly, - For that wild-rose which is her mouth, that brings - Dew-odors of the dawn; for those twin springs - Of light, her eyes; the bloom of her white brow, - O’er which the foliage of her dark hair lies: - The melody which is her heart, that sings - The poetry of love, to which all bow, - Both gods and men, the love that never dies. - - Lost art thou then, lost as the first lone star - Set in the splendor of the sunset’s wave; - Lost in thy loneliness of searching far, - Striving to clasp her, evermore her slave: - Lost--gladly lost! a devotee to her - Who, in the end, perhaps may let thee share - A portion of her bliss, her heritage - Of happiness in the same way and wise - As woods and waters share it.--Then prepare - Thy soul,--made perfect,--for its final wage, - Her kiss, whose touch shall apotheosize. - - - III - - Now that the orchard’s leaves are sere, - And drip with rain instead of dew, - No moon-bright fruit hangs moon-like here, - And dead your long white lilies too,-- - And dead the heart that broke for you: - - How comes the dim touch of your arm? - Your faint lips on my feverish cheek? - Your eyes near mine? deep as a charm, - And gray, so gray! till I am weak, - Weak with wild tears and can not speak. - - I am as one who walks in dreams; - Sees, as in youth, his father’s home; - Hears from his native mountain streams - Far music of continual foam, - And one sweet voice that bids him come. - - - - - AT HER GRAVE - - - I - - With your eyes of April blue, - And your mouth - Like a May-rose, fresh with dew, - Of the South, - With your hair as golden sweet - As the ripples of ripe wheat, - How you make my old heart beat!-- - Who are you? - - - II - - There is something that I knew, - Long ago, - In your voice that thrills me through - With the glow - Of remembered happiness; - And your look--I can not guess - What it is there, nor express.-- - Who are you? - - - III - - You are like her! even the hue - Of her eyes!-- - It is strange you stop here, too, - Where she lies!-- - Where she lies who was, you see, - All to me a girl could be-- - But no wife.--You stare at me.-- - Who are you? - - - IV - - Well, I left her. That ’s not new-- - God above! - Men, who live so, often do. - ’T is n’t love. - So I broke her heart, they say,-- - And been wretched since that day: - And our child--don’t turn away!-- - Who are you? - - - - - A CONFESSION - - - These are the facts:--I was to blame. - I brought her here and wrought her shame. - She came with me all trustingly. - Lovely and innocent her face: - And in her perfect form, the grace - Of purity and modesty. - - I think I loved her then: would dote - On her ambrosial breast and throat, - Young as a wildflower’s tenderness: - Her eyes, that were both glad and sad: - Her cheeks and chin, that dimples had: - Her mouth, red-ripe to kiss and kiss. - - Three months passed by; three moons of fire; - When in me sickened all desire: - And in its place a devil,--who - Filled all my soul with deep disgust, - And on the victim of my lust - Turned eyes of loathing,--swiftly grew. - - One night, when by my side she slept, - I rose: and leaning, while I kept - The dagger hid, I kissed her hair - And mouth: and, when she smiled asleep, - Into her heart I drove it deep-- - And left her dead, still smiling there. - - - - - LAST DAYS - - - Ah! heartbreak of the tattered hills, - And heartache of the autumn sky! - Heartbreak and heartache, since God wills, - Are mine, and God knows why! - - I held one dearer than each day - Of life God sets in sunny gold-- - But Death hath ta’en that gem away, - And left me poor and old. - - The heartbreak of the hills is mine, - Of trampled twig and rain-beat leaf, - Of wind that sobs through thorn and pine - An unavailing grief. - - The sorrow of the loveless skies’ - “Farewells” are wild as those I said - When last I kissed my child’s blue eyes - And lips, ice-dumb and dead. - - - - - AT TWILIGHT - - - Once more she holds me with her pensive eyes; - Once more I feel her voice’s witchery - Within my heart unfountain tears and sighs, - And fill the soul of me. - - Once more she bends a silent face above; - Once more I feel her hands’ soft touches shake - My life, unbinding long-imprisoned love, - Bidding my lost dreams wake. - - Once more I see her serious smile; and touch - Once more the lips of her whose kisses say-- - “The night was long, and thou hast suffered much: - At last, dear heart, ’t is day!” - - - - - DAY AND NIGHT - - - They said to me, “The days are not so far off - When she will come, who gave her heart to thee;” - And still I wait, while twilight’s lonely star, off - Her long-loved hills, dips dewy to the sea. - - And I recall that night, which gave its soul of - Calm beauty to the earth, when she did give - Her love’s white starlight to the rugged whole of - My barren life and bade me see and live. - - The days go by, and my sick soul recalls but - The revelation of that evening sky: - The days! whose hours are as narrow walls,--but - Of whiter shadow,--where hearts break and die. - - The day is error’s: it can but deceive us - With shows of Earth, blind with the primal curse. - The night is truth’s: its myriad fires weave us - The thoughts of God, the visible universe. - - - - - THREE BIRDS - - - A red bird sang upon the bough - When wind-flowers nodded in the dew: - My spring of bird and flower wast thou, - O tried and true! - - A brown bird warbled on the wing - When poppy buds were hearts of heat: - I wooed thee with a golden ring, - O sad and sweet! - - A black-bird twittered in the mist - When nightshade blooms were filled with frost: - The leaves upon thy grave are whist, - O loved and lost! - - - - - UNREQUITED - - - Passion? not hers! who held me with pure eyes: - One hand among the deep curls of her brow, - I drank the girlhood of her gaze with sighs: - She never sighed, nor gave me kiss or vow. - - So have I seen a clear October pool, - Cold, liquid topaz, set within the sere - Gold of the woodland, tremorless and cool, - Reflecting all the heartbreak of the year. - - Sweetheart? not she! whose voice was music-sweet; - Whose face was sweeter than melodious prayer. - Sweetheart I called her.--When did she repeat - Sweet to one hope, or heart to one despair! - - So have I seen a wildflower’s fragrant head - Sung to and sung to by a longing bird, - And at the last, albeit the bird lay dead, - No blossom wilted, for it had not heard. - - - - - THE HEART’S DESIRE - - - God made her body out of foam and flowers, - And for her hair the dawn and darkness blent; - Then called two planets from their heavenly towers, - And in her face, divinely eloquent, - Gave them a firmament. - - God made her heart of rosy ice and fire, - Of snow and flame, that freezes while it burns; - And of a starbeam and a moth’s desire - He made her soul, to’ards which my longing turns, - And all my being yearns. - - So is my life a prisoner unto passion, - Enslaved of her who gives nor sign nor word; - So in the cage her loveliness doth fashion - Is love endungeoned, like a golden bird - That sings but is not heard. - - Could it but once convince her with beseeching! - But once compel her as the sun the south! - Could it but once, fond arms around her reaching, - Upon the red carnation of her mouth - Dew its eternal drouth! - - Then might I rise victorious over sadness, - O’er fate and change, and, with but little care, - Torched by the glory of that moment’s gladness, - Breast the black mountain of my life’s despair, - And die, or do and dare. - - - - - OUT OF THE DEPTHS - - - I - - Let me forget her face! - So fresh, so lovely! the abiding place - Of tears and smiles that won my heart to her; - Of dreams and moods that moved my soul’s dim deeps, - As strong winds stir - Dark waters where the starlight glimmering sleeps.-- - In every lineament the mind can trace, - Let me forget her face! - - - II - - Let me forget her form! - Soft and seductive, that contained each charm, - Each grace the sweet word maidenhood implies; - And all the sensuous youth of line and curve, - That makes men’s eyes - Bondsmen of beauty, eager still to serve.-- - In every part that memory can warm, - Let me forget her form! - - - III - - Let me forget her, God! - Her who made honeyed love a bitter rod - To scourge my heart with, barren with despair; - To tear my soul with, sick with vain desire!-- - Oh, hear my prayer! - Out of the hell of love’s unquenchable fire - I cry to thee, with face against the sod, - Let me forget her, God! - - - - -“THIS IS THE FACE OF HER” - - - This is the face of her - I’ve dreamed of long - That in my heart I bear: - This is the face of her - Pictured in song. - - Look on the lily lids, - The eyes of dawn,-- - Deep as a Nereid’s, - Swimming with dewy lids - In waters wan. - - Look on the brows of snow, - The locks of night: - Only the gods can show - Such brows of placid snow, - Such locks of light. - - The cheeks, like rosy moons; - The lips of fire: - Love sighs no sweeter tunes - Under romantic moons - Than these suspire. - - Loved lips and eyes and hair! - Look, this is she! - She, who sits smiling there, - Throned in my heart’s despair, - Never for me! - - - - - INDIFFERENCE - - - She is so dear the wildflowers near - Each path she passes by, - Are over fain to kiss again - Her feet and then to die. - - She is so fair the wild birds there - That sing upon the bough, - Have learned the staff of her sweet laugh, - And sing no other now. - - Alas! that she should never see, - Should never care to know, - The wildflower’s love, the bird’s above, - And his, who loves her so. - - - - - GHOST WEATHER - - - Wild gusts of drizzle hoot and hiss - Through writhing lindens torn in two-- - The dead’s own days are days like this! - Yea; let me sit and be with you. - - Here in your willow chair, whose seat - Spreads purple plush.--Hark! how the gusts - Seem moaning voices that repeat - Some grief here; in this room, where dusts - - Make dim each ornament and chair; - This locked-in memory where you died: - Since angels stood here, saintly fear - Guards each dark corner, mournful-eyed. - - Through this dim light bend your dim face; - Or, like a rain-mist, gray of gleam, - A soft, dim cloudiness of lace, - Stand near me while I dream, I dream. - - - - - THE FOREST POOL - - - One memory persuades me when - Dusk’s lonely star burns overhead, - To take the gray path through the glen-- - That finds the forest pool, made red - With sunset--and forget again, - Forget that she is dead. - - Once more I look into the spring, - That on one rock a finger white - Of foam that beckons still doth bring-- - Some moon-wan spirit of the night, - Who dwells within its murmuring, - Her life the sad moonlight. - - I see the red dusk touch it here - With fire like a blade of blood; - One star reflected, white and clear, - Like a wood-blossom’s drowning bud; - While all my grief stands very near, - Pale in the solitude. - - And then, behold, while yet the moon - Hangs--silver as a twisted horn - Blown out of Elfland--sweet with June, - White in white clusters of the thorn, - Slow, in the water as a tune, - An image pale is born: - - That has her throat of frost; her lips-- - Her mouth where God’s anointment lies; - Her eyes, wherefrom love’s arrow-tips - Break, like the starlight from dark skies; - Her hair, a hazel heap that slips; - Her throat and hair and eyes. - - And then I stoop; the water kissed, - The face fades from me into air; - And in the pool’s dark amethyst - My own pale face returns my stare: - Then night and mist--and in the mist - One dead leaf drifting there. - - - - - AT SUNSET - - - Into the sunset’s turquoise marge - The moon dips, like a pearly barge - Enchantment sails through magic seas, - To fairyland Hesperides, - Over the hills and away. - - Into the fields, in ghost-gray gown, - The young-eyed dusk comes slowly down; - Her apron filled with stars she stands. - And one or two slip from her hands - Over the hills and away. - - Above the wood’s black caldron bends - The witch-faced Night and, muttering, blends - The dew and heat, whose bubbles make - The mist and musk that haunt the brake - Over the hills and away. - - Oh, come with me, and let us go - Beyond the sunset lying low, - Beyond the twilight and the night, - Into Love’s kingdom of long light, - Over the hills and away. - - - - - DEAD AND GONE - - - Can you tell me how he rests, - Flowers, growing o’er him there? - His a right warm heart, my sweets,-- - So, cover it with care. - - Can you tell me how he lies - Such nights out in the cold, - O cricket, with your plaintive call, - O glow-worm, with your gold? - - If my eyes are sorrowful, - Well may they weep, I trow,-- - Since his dead eyes gazed into them, - They have been sad enow. - - If my heart make moan and ache, - Well may it break, I’m sure-- - For his dead love is more, ah me! - More than it can endure. - - - - - ONE NIGHT - - - I - - - A night of rain. The wind is out. - And I had wished it otherwise: - A calm, still night; no scudding skies; - Or, in the scud, above the rout, - The moon; by whose pale light my eyes - Might meet her eyes; the smile that tries - To come but will not; lips, that pout - With seeming anger, all surmise, - When I have said “I love your lies”-- - Lips I shall kiss before she dies. - - - II - - What force this wind has! As it runs - Around each unprotecting tree - It seems some beast; and now I see - Its form, its eyes; a woman’s once:-- - Dark eyes! that blaze as lionly - As some bayed beast’s, that will not flee - The pine-knots and derides the guns.-- - Or is it but the thought in me! - The thought of that which is to be, - The deed, that rises shadowy? - - - III - - And now the trees and whipping rain - Confuse them.... I must drive it hence, - The memory of her eyes! the tense - Wild look within them of hard pain!... - Yet she must die--with every sense - Strung to beholding knowledge, whence - My heart shall be made whole again.-- - Here I will wait where night is dense. - Soon she will come, like Innocence, - Thinking her youth is her defense. - - - IV - - And when she leaves,--and none perceives,-- - The old gray manor, where the eight - Old locusts, (twisted shadows), freight - With mossy murmurings its eaves, - One moment at the iron gate - She ’ll tarry. Then, with breath abate, - Come rustling through the autumn leaves. - And I will take both hands and sate - My mouth on hers and say, “You ’re late”; - She ’ll laugh to hear I had to wait.... - - - V - - O passion of past vows, revive - Imagination, and renew - The ardor of love’s language you - For love’s rose-altar kept alive! - Repeat the oaths that rang with dew - And starlight!--Tell her she is true - As beautiful.--I will contrive - To make her think I have no clue - To all her falseness. I will woo - As once I wooed before I knew. - - - VI - - And we will walk against the wind; - The shuffling leaves about our feet; - Our ruin, as the wood’s, complete, - Because one woman so hath sinned - And never suffered. She shall meet - No murder in my eyes; no heat - Of fate in holding hand that ’s pinned - To hers. To make her trust to beat, - I ’ll kiss her hand, her hair,--like wheat - Of affluent summer,--saying “Sweet.” - - - VII - - And should I bungle in this thing, - This purpose that must see her dead - To cure this fever in my head?-- - What other thing is there to bring - Soul satisfaction? when is shed - No real blood, save what makes red - The baulked intention?--I will fling - The mask aside!--But hate hath led - Desire too far now to be fed - With failure. I have naught to dread. - - - VIII - - When we have reached the precipice - That thwarts the battling of the sea, - And wallows out great rocks, that knee - The giant foam with roar and hiss, - I will not cease to coax and be - The anxious lover. Trusting she - Will not suspect my farewell kiss - Until it turns a curse, and we - Sway for an instant totteringly, - And she has shrieked some prayer at me. - - - IX - - O let me see wild terror there - Upon her face! the wilder frown - Of crime’s apprisal, and renown - Of my life’s injury, that bare - This horror with its bloody crown!-- - No pity, God! For, if her gown, - Suspending looseness of her hair, - Delay the plunge ... the night is brown ... - My heel must crush her white face down, - And Hell and Heaven see her drown. - - - - - THE PARTING - - - She passed the thorn-trees, whose gaunt branches tossed - Their spider-shadows round her; and the breeze, - Beneath the ashen moon, was full of frost, - And mouthed and mumbled in the sickly trees, - Like some starved hag who sees her children freeze. - - Dry-eyed she waited by the sycamore. - Some stars made misty blotches in the sky. - And all the wretched willows on the shore - Looked faded as a jaundiced cheek or eye. - She felt deep sorrow yet could only sigh. - - She heard his skiff grind on the river rocks - Whistling he came into the shadow made - By the great tree. He kissed her on her locks; - And round her form his eager arms were laid. - Passive she stood her purpose unbetrayed. - - And then she spoke, while still his greeting kiss - Stung in her hair. She did not dare to lift - Her face to his; her anguished eyes to his - While tears smote crystal in her throat. One rift - Of weakness humored might set all adrift. - - Anger and shame were his. She meekly heard. - And then the oar-locks sounded, and her brain - Remembered he had said no farewell word; - And swift emotion swept her; and again - Left her as silent as a carven pain.... - - She, in the old sad farm-house, wearily - Resumed the drudgery of her common lot, - Regret remembering.--’Midst old vices, he, - Who would have trod on, and somehow did not, - The wildflower, that had brushed his feet, forgot. - - - - - THE DAUGHTER OF THE SNOW - - - Though the panther’s footprints show, - And the wild-cat’s, in the snow, - You will never find a trace - Of the footsteps of a certain - Maiden with a paler face - Than the drifts that fill and curtain - Hillside, valley, and the wood, - Where the hunter’s wigwam stood - In the winter solitude. - - What white beast hath grown the fur - For the whiter limbs of her?-- - Raiment of the frost and ice - To her supple beauty fitting; - Wampum strouds, as white as rice, - Of the frost’s fantastic knitting, - Wrap her form and face complete; - Glove her hands with ice; her feet - Moccasin with beaded sleet. - - ’Though he knew she made a haunt - Of the dell, it did not daunt: - Where the hoar-frost mailed each tree - In soft, phantom alabaster, - And hung ghosts of bud and bee - On each autumn-withered aster; - By the frozen waterfall, - There she stood, beneath its wall, - In the ice-sheathed chaparral. - - Where the beech-tree and the larch - Built a white triumphal arch - For the Winter, marching down - With his icy-armored leaders; - Where each hemlock had a crown, - And pale diadems the cedars; - Where the long icicle shone, - There he saw her, standing lone, - Like a mist-wraith turned to stone. - - And she led him many a mile - With her hand-wave and her smile, - And the printless swiftness of - Feet of frost, and snowy flutter - Of her raiment; now above, - Now below, the boughs of utter - Winter whiteness. Led him on - Till the dawn and day were gone, - And the evening star hung wan.... - - Hunters found him dead, they tell, - In the winter-wasted dell, - With his quiver and his bow, - Where the cascade ran a rafter, - White, of crystal and of snow; - Where he listened to her laughter, - Promises, that were as far - As the secrets of a star, - And her love that naught could mar. - - And her countenance is this - Stamped on his: and this her kiss, - Haunting still his mouth and eyes, - Colder than the cold December: - This her passion, that defies - All control, the stars remember - Filled him, killed him: this is she - Clinging to him, neck and knee, - Where his limbs sank wearily. - - - - - THE SPIRIT OF THE STAR - - (_Love Spiritual_) - -“_This union of the human soul with the divine æthereal substance of the - universe, is the ancient doctrine of Pythagoras and Plato._”--Divine - Legation. - - - There is love for love: the heaven - Teems with possibilities: - And, when love is purely given, - Love returns from where none sees: - And such love becomes a ladder - Reaching heavenward, from the sadder - Night of Earth; from out the driven - Darkness of its miseries. - - There is love for love: and Beauty, - From her star above the Earth, - Smiles, and straight each cloud of sooty - Night takes on celestial worth: - And, like some white flower unfolding, - Love is born; and softly holding - Up its face, as if in duty, - Grows to that which gave it birth. - - Earth and Heaven are prolific - Of love’s wonders: and the sky - Teems with spirits, fair, terrific, - Who, if loved, shall never die: - Dæmons, haggard as their mountains; - Naiads, sparkling as their fountains; - Sylphids of the winds, pacific - As the stars they tremble by.... - - Such was I; who long had waited - For the everlasting sleep: - Where, around me, worlds dilated, - Waned or waxed within the deep: - Where, beneath my star, a planet - Whirled and shone, like glowing granite, - While around it ne’er abated - One white satellite its sweep. - - I was sad: my beauty wearied, - Useless as a scentless bud - Fading ere it blooms. The serried - Mists of worlds, as red as blood, - Streamed beneath me. And the starry - Firmament above bent, barry - With the wild auroras, ferried - Of the meteors’ sisterhood. - -[Illustration: - - Something drew me, unreturning, - Filled me with a finer flame - - Page 418 - _The Spirit of the Star_] - - I was loveless with a yearning - After love that never came; - All my astral being burning - Towards that world without a name, - World I knew not: till, with splendor - Of compulsion that was tender, - Something drew me, unreturning, - Filled me with a finer flame. - - So I left my star, whose lances - Pierced with arrowy gold the heat - Of heaven’s hyacinth; its glances - Saddened me. No more to meet, - Then I left my star; and, beating - Downward, heard it still repeating - Far farewells; and through the trances - Of dark space its face looked sweet. - - Passed your moon: a melancholy - Disc at first; then, vast and sharp, - Lo, a world, all white and holy! - Where, upon the crystal scarp - Of a mountain,--like a story - Of high Heaven revealed in glory,-- - Gradual, as if music slowly - Built it, rolling from a harp,-- - - Rose a city: cloudy nacre - Were its walls, that towered round - Acre upon arch-piled acre - Of a marble-terraced ground: - Caryatids alternated - With Atlantes, sculpture-weighted: - And its gates--some god the maker-- - Rhombs of symboled diamond. - - In the white light glittered swimming - Domes of dazzle: swirl on swirl, - Temples lifted columns, brimming - Crystal flame, that seemed to whirl: - Battlemented moonstone darkled; - Palaces, pale-pillared, sparkled, - Cloudy opal: and, far dimming, - Aqueducts of ghostly pearl. - - Streaming steeples shone, of dædal - Emblem; each an obelisk: - Minarets, each one a needle, - Balancing a bubble-disc; - Some of diamond, like a blister - Frozen; some of topaz-glister, - Vinous; in whose blinding middle - Blazed an orb of burning bisque. - - And I saw where, silvery slanted, - A vast pyramidic heap - Rose of spar; whereon was planted - The acropolis of Sleep,-- - God of these:--that, looming higher, - Wrought of seeming ice and fire, - Where pale rainbow-colors panted, - Gleamed above the lunar deep. - - Robed in white simarre and chiton, - Visions filled its every square, - Moving like a finer light on - Light: and in the glory there - Music rang and golden laughter; - And before each shape, and after, - Radiance went, that shadowed white, on - Temple and on palace stair. - - Though they called me, I descended - Earthward. For great longing drew - Me and, drawing me, was blended - With your world. I never knew - It was Earth, until,--forsaking - Heaven,--I beheld it taking,-- - A great azure sphere,--its splendid - Way along the singing blue. - - And when night came, here, above you,-- - Sleeping by your folded sheep - On the hills,--I stooped: whereof you - Dreamed: I kissed you in your sleep: - I, your destiny, who wrought it - So you knew me: you, who thought it - Not so strange that I should love you, - I a spirit of the deep. - - ’Twas your love that sought and found me, - Drew me from that star-life sad; - Won my soul to yours and bound me - With such love as none hath had: - I am she, you may remember, - That fair star that seemed an ember - O’er you, that you loved.--Around me - Wrap your arms now and be glad. - - Look above: what seems a petal, - Burning, of a rose; that far - Point of radiance, bright as metal, - Fiery silver, is your star! - Look above you: rise unto it. - Let it lead you now who drew it - Down to Earth, where shadows settle!-- - On that star no shadows are! - - - - - THE SPIRIT OF THE VAN - - (_Love Ideal_) - -“_Among the mountains of Carmarthen, lies a beautiful and romantic piece - of water, named The Van Pools. Tradition relates, that after midnight, - on New Year’s Eve, there appears on this lake a being named The Spirit - of the Van. She is dressed in a white robe, bound by a golden girdle; - her hair is long and golden; her face is pale and - melancholy_.”--Keightley’s “Fairy Mythology.” - - - Midsummer-night; the Van. Through night’s wan noon, - Wading the storm-scud of an eve of storm, - Pale o’er Carmarthen’s peaks the mounting moon.-- - Wilds of Carmarthen! sombre heights, that swarm - Girdling this water, as old giants might - Crouch, guarding some enchanted gem of charm,-- - Wilds of Carmarthen, that for me each night - Reëcho prayers and pleadings,--all the year - Unanswered,--made to listening waters white! - Mountains, behold me yet again! Bend near! - Behold her lover! hers, that shape of snow, - Who dwells amid these pools; who will not hear - My heart’s wild pleading, calling loud, now low, - Unhappy, to her, ’mid the lonely hills. - - Whene’er a ripple trembles into glow, - Where yeasty moonshine scuds the foam, straight thrills - Heart’s expectation through my veins, and high - With “she!” each pulse the exultation fills. - But she ’tis never. Once ... and then! would I, - Would I had perished, so beholding!--World, - ’Twas you, O world, who would not let me die! - Once I beheld her!--If some fiend had curled - Stiff talons in my hair, and, twisting tight, - Had raised me high, then into Hell had hurled; - Fresh from that vision of her beauty white, - With Heaven in my soul, I, unamerced, - Shackled with tortures, yet might mock Hell’s spite. - - Immortal memory, quench in me this thirst!-- - O starlike vision, that a moment clove - My sight, and then for ever left me curst! - Oh, make me mad with love, with all thy love! - Me, me, who seek thee ’mid these wilds when gloom - Storms or drip gold the sibylline stars above!-- - Let thy high coming in a flash consume - The light of all the stars! and make me mad, - Mad with love’s madness! fill me with sweet doom! - - Sleep will I not now, for my soul is sad: - For, should I sleep, there might come other dreams,-- - Sadder than thou art,--in thy beauty clad - And all thy tyranny. To me it seems - Better to wake here, underneath this pine, - Until thy face upon my vision gleams.-- - Thou, who art wrought of elements divine, - And I of crasser clay, clay that will think, - “Since I am hers, why should she not be mine?” - Again, its usual phantom, on the brink - Of thy lone lake, I ask thee: “Must I yearn - Forever, haunted of that vision’s wink?”-- - When, glassing out great circles, which did urn - Some intense essence of interior light, - (As clouds, that clothe the moon, unbinding, burn, - Riven, erupt her orb, triumphant white,) - I saw, midmost the Van, a feathering fire - Dilating ivory-wan.--Expectant night - Tiptoed attentive, fearful to suspire.-- - Wherefrom arose--what white divinity? - What godhead sensed with glory and desire? - Born for the moment for the eyes of me! - Then re-absorbed into the brassy gloom - Of whispering waves that sighed their ecstasy. - Thou! in whose path harmonious colors bloom, - Pale pearl and lilac, asphodel and rose,-- - Like many flow’rs auroral of perfume,-- - Thou leftst me thus, to marvel as who knows - He is not dead and yet it seems he is, - Since all his soul with spirit-rapture glows.-- - O sylph-like brow! lips like an angel’s kiss! - High immortality! whose face was such - As starlight in a lily’s loveliness!... - The gold that bound thee seemed too base to clutch - Thy chastity, though clear as golden gum - That almugs sweat, and fragrance to the touch! - Thy hair--not hair!--seemed rays, like those that come - Strained through the bubble of a chrysolite.-- - No word I said: thy beauty struck me dumb. - Thy face, that is upon my soul’s quick sight - Eternal seared, hath made of me a shade, - A wandering shadow of the day and night: - A seeker ’mid the hoary hills for aid, - The sole society of my sick heart, who - Shuns all companionship of man and maid: - Who, comrade of the mountain blossoms blue, - And intimate of old trees, goes dreaming they,-- - As in that legendary world that drew - Oracles from lips in oaks--, may sometime say - Prophetic precepts to it: how were won - A spirit loved to love a mortal;--yea, - In vain.-- - But one day, frog-like in the sun, - Beside a cave,--the nightshade vines made rank - And hairy henbane, where huge spiders spun,-- - Wrinkled as Magic, I a grizzled, lank, - Squat something startled, naught save skin and hair; - With eyes wherein dwelt demons; flames, that shrank - And grew;--familiars, who fixed me with glare - As, raising claw-like hands when I drew near, - Frog-like he croaked, “Thou fool! go seek her there! - Woo her with thy heart’s actions! making clear - Thy soul’s white passage for her coming feet!-- - In! in! thou fool! plunge in! Fear naught but fear!” - - Yet I have waited many weeks. Repeat. - Acts of the heart with passionate offering - Of love whose anguish makes it seven times sweet. - Still all in vain, in vain. To-night I bring - My self alone; my soul unfearing, see! - My soul unto thee!--Shall the clay still cling - Clogging fulfillment? and achievement be - Balked still by flesh?--no! let me in--to die, - Haply; or, for a moment’s mystery, - Gaze in thine eyes: one splendid instant lie - In thy white arms and bosom; and thy kiss, - My elemental immortality!-- - Part of thy breathing waves, to laugh or hiss - In foam; or winds, that rock the awful deeps, - Or build with song vast temples for thy bliss. - Wherein, responsive as thy white hand sweeps - The chords of some sad shell, I’ll dream and roam - Through glaucous chambers where the green day sleeps. - Dead not with death, what secrets hath thy home - Not mine then, epoched in exultant foam?... - Deeper, down deeper! yea, at last I come! - - - - - THE CAVERNS OF KAF - - (_Love Sensual_) - - “_‘Where am I?’ cried he; ‘what are these dreadful rocks? these - valleys of darkness? are we arrived at the horrible - Kaf?’_”--Vathek. - - - One, Benreddin, I have heard, - Near the town of Mosul sleeping, - In a dream beheld a bird, - Wonderful, with plumes of sweeping - Whiteness, crowned pomegranate-red: - And, it seemed, his soul it led, - Brilliant as a blossom, keeping - Near the Tigris as it fled. - - Following, at last he came - To a haggard valley, shouldered - Under peaks that had no name: - Where it vanished. ’Mid the bouldered - Savageness a woman, fair, - In a white simarre, stood there, - Auburn-haired; around whom smoldered - Pensive lights of purple air. - - And she led him down to vast - Caves of sardonyx, whose ceiling - Domed one chrysoberyl. Blast - On blast of music,--stealing - Out of aural atmospheres,-- - Beat like surf upon his ears; - Then receded, faintly pealing - Psalteries and dulcimers. - - Living figures seemed to heave - High the walls, where, wild, embattled, - Warred Amshaspand and the Deev: - Over all two splendors rattled - Arms of Heaven, arms of Hell; - Forms of flame that seemed to swell - Godlike: Aherman who battled - With Ormuzd he could not quell. - - There she left him wond’ring; till - The reverberant music, drifting, - Strong beyond his utmost will, - Drew him onward where, high lifting - Pillar and entablature, - Vast with emblem, yawned a door-- - Valves of liquid lightning, shifting - In and out and up and o’er. - - Through the door he swept: deep-domed, - Green with serpentine and beryl, - Loomed a cavern, crusted, foamed, - Tortuous with gems of peril: - Difficult, a colonnade - Seemed, of satin-spar, to braid - Deeps of labyrinthed and sterile - Tiger-spar that, twisting, rayed. - - Dizzy stones of magic price - Crammed volute and loaded corbel: - Irridescent shafts of ice - Leapt: with long reëchoed warble - Waters unto waters sang: - Crystal arc and column sprang - Into fire as each marble - Fountain flung its foam that rang. - - And around him, filled with sound, - Streams of resonant colors jetted: - Rainbow surf that interwound - Crypts and arcades, crescent-fretted: - Mists of citron and of roon; - Lemon lights that mocked the moon; - Shot with scarlet, veined and netted, - Beating golden hearts of tune. - - Suns arose, of blinding blue; - Moons of green-dilating splendor: - In whose centers slowly grew - Spots like serpents’ eyes that, slender, - Glared; at first, prismatic beams; - Then, intolerable gleams; - Hissing trails of fire, tender - As an houri’s breath that dreams. - - Characters of Arabic, - Cabalistic, red as coral, - Flashed through violet veils, so quick - None might read: as if, in quarrel, - Iran wrote of Turan there - Hate and scorn, or, everywhere, - Wrought some talisman of moral - Strength no Afrit’s heart would dare. - - Sounding splendors drew him on - To another cavern; hollow; - Hewn of alabastar wan; - Lucid; where his gaze could follow - Caves in caves; transparent flights - Rolling, lost in moving lights, - Glaucous gold: he like a swallow - O’er a lake the morning smites. - - Down the dome flashed out and in - Instant faces of the Peris: - Restless eyes of Deevs and Jinn - In the walls watched: unseen Faeries - Out of rainbows rained and tossed - Flowers of fire full of frost; - Blossoms where the fire varies, - Gold and green and crimson-mossed. - - Then there met him, face to face, - Seven odalisques of Heaven, - Swinging in a silver space - Flaming censers: and the seven, - Crowned with stars of burning green, - Seemed to turn to incense; seen, - As it rose, to be a driven - Hippogrif, or rosmarine. - - Aloes, Nard, and Ambergris, - Sandal, Frankincense, and Civet,-- - Genii of the fragrances,-- - Rein each winged aroma; give it - Spurs and race it down the lull - Of the caverns, clouded dull - With wild manes of musk; now vivid, - Vaporous white and wonderful. - - And Benreddin’s aching soul, - In each sense intoxicated, - Reached, at last, what seemed the goal - Of all passion: golden-gated, - Vast, a fountain: where he saw - Limbs of light without a flaw; - Breasts and arms of bloom; that waited - For his soul to nearer draw. - - Houri faces shimmered there; - Fluid forms.--It, with a thunder - Of wild music, like the hair - Of a genie, flamed from under - Caverns of the demon-world: - Filled with voices, high it hurled, - Calling him, with beckoning wonder - Of cœrulean forms that swirled. - - And with burning lips and eyes - In he plunged: hoarse laughter greeted, - Demon laughter: then sad sighs, - Dying downward: passion-heated - Hands seemed drawing him away, - Downward: where a rocking ray - Flamed and swung, and Eblis-sheeted - Shadows wandered ghostly gray. - - * * * * * - - And, ’tis said, that he was young, - Young that morning. When the darting, - Anguish-throated bulbuls sung, - In the silent starlight starting, - One, a Baghdad merchant, led - By the hoarness of its head, - Found what seemed a mummy: parting - Hair from brow, Benreddin--dead. - - - - - THE SALAMANDER - - (_Love Dæmonic_) - -“_The Fire-Philosophers, and the Rosicrucians, or Illuminati, taught -that all knowable things (both of the soul and of the body) were evolved -out of fire, and finally resolvable into it: and that fire was the last -and the only-to-be known God: as that all things were capable of being -searched down into it, and all things were capable of being thought up -into it._”--The Rosicrucians. - - - Once she breathed upon my eyes, - Touched the soul that dreamed within me; - All the magic that might win me - Whispered to my heart with sighs-- - Darkness can not make them lies!... - - Bring me moly, hellebore! - Mix them for my soul’s nepenthe, - For my spirit’s dread Amenti, - For the curse that comes once more - With unutterable lore! - - Sunlight, starlight or the moon, - Stormlight, firelight or the sheening - Witchlight intimate no meaning - Of her glory’s plenilune; - Of her soul’s unriddled rune, - - And most awful beauty! nor - Actual, nor yet ideal!-- - Insubstantial and yet real; - Partly flame and partly star, - Yet no part of what these are. - - I am hers and--woe is mine!... - Has she drugged me with the sadness - Of some elemental madness?-- - Like a demigod I pine - ’Twixt the mortal and divine.... - - When I see her, lo, she stands - In the luminous electre - Of a star: a smiling spectre - With white scintillating hands - Luring to unhallowed lands. - - Then, behold, in fearful file, - A mirage of tower and terrace, - Lawn and mountain range,--that buries - Flame in frost,--looms! mile on mile - Of her crescent-glowing Isle: - - Where the lurid waters lull - Shores that roll the rainbow fire; - Where, with living lute and lyre, - Rose-red, swiftly as a gull, - Glides her star-like galley’s hull. - - And, behold, before I know, - I am where her walls of amber, - Towers of limpid ruby, clamber - Over terraces below - Summits of refulgent snow. - - Lambent lazuli and shell - Colonnade her courts of marble; - Where, of lightning, fountains warble - Out of basined pearl, or well - Into hollowed carbuncle. - - Rosy silver seems her skin, - And a flame her arm commanding, - With its gleaming hand, me, standing - At her gates, to enter in, - Burning as a Seraphin. - - Lucid darkness are her eyes, - Where the frozen fire smolders; - And upon her shining shoulders, - Like a tangible glitter, lies - Auburn hair like sunset skies. - - Mouth of sibilant soft flame; - Lilith lips, whose roses lighten - With illusive love; and brighten - With wild passion and the name - Of desire no man may tame. - - Passion, and the thoughts that wed - Love and loathing; such caresses - Of sweet touch as naught expresses - Here on Earth, yet full of dread, - Madness, whereof death is bred. - - She hath drawn me to her lips; - Borne me through her palace portal; - And the fire, which is immortal, - From me like a garment slips-- - Ah, the spirit-part’s eclipse! - - As when moon and planet swoon - Unto each, my body kindles, - Strangely, while my spirit dwindles, - Like the Earth-o’ershadowed moon, - Darkening from lune to lune. - - Then she laughs; and leads me where - Cloudy, wild, chameleon color - Marbles halls with hues, the duller - For her astral presence there, - Beaming white with beaming hair: - - Where, in roses purple pale,-- - Dropping like a ruby bubble - Through the moon dust,--“double double,” - Throbs the crimson nightingale, - There she lures me with some tale. - - Or to where the scarlet snake - Coils beneath great flaming flowers; - Where the musk mimosa bowers - Roll their rosy clouds, and make - Sunset heavens of each lake. - - Where the bees and moths go by, - Fiery diamond; opal-burning - Butterflies, and iris-turning - Peacock-painted birds, that vie - With the flow’rs, like fragments fly - Of wild rainbow: Where, in rills, - Down the rocks, that lichens redden, - Constellated moss and leaden - Fungus glow; and all the hills, - As with flames, the orchid fills. - - Where, in coruscating light, - Glare the golden-checkered zinnias; - And the bugle-bloomed gloxinias, - Making morning of each height, - Float like mists of ruby white. - - There, beneath some blazing vine, - Where the liquid moonlight glitters - Of a river,--coral litters - Red with grail,--like prisms in wine - I have watched the fishes shine. - - Or, o’er sunset-colored moss, - Glow-worms trail their beryls; sprinkling - Green the smouldering shade; while, twinkling, - With convulsive sapphire gloss, - Fireflies rained blue lights across. - - Where the reeds seemed rays of rose, - And white mirrored moons, the lotus-- - Each a spirit giving notice - Of the inner light that glows - Where the under water flows-- - - Shapes arose of flashing spray:-- - Where, a wild auroral splendor, - Rolled the forest,--emerald-tender - As the light of breaking day,-- - Beckoned forms of starry ray. - - Through the violetish light, - Winged with nautilus and lily - Flame, adown the forests stilly - Vistas, moony whirls of white, - Floated shapes with eyes of night. - - I must follow where she leads.-- - Blinding portals of her castle - To my entering feet are facile.... - Love no terrible trumpet needs - At her gates to bugle deeds.... - - Lo, my being never veils - Aught from her. To her caresses - All my heart knows it confesses - With a faith that never fails, - Though it hears the truth that wails - In its soul’s admonishment, - Of the curse that sits in session - In each amorous expression - Of her love; its violent - Flame, by which my life is rent. - - I have drained the feverish cup - Of all darkness. Made a leman - Of an elemental demon; - And my soul lies, staring up, - Draining poison at each sup.-- - - While she smiles on me ’tis well: - I shall follow, though she make me - What her self is; never wake me - From the dream I can not tell, - That is neither heaven nor hell: - - Where I drink mesmeric gold - Of wild vision,--that romances - In informing Protean fancies - With a beauty never old, - And emotion never cold.-- - - Let me drink and never wake - From the trances that environ - Me, and ’neath the subtle siren - See the demon, like a snake, - With destroying eyes that ache. - - While the slow laconic look - Of her eyes express no censure, - Gazing in them, I adventure,-- - Far beyond the wisest book,-- - Ways her serpent fancy took. - - Yet I know I reverence - One whose gaze in God’s negation; - One who, like an emanation - Of all evil, chains my sense - With satanic influence. - - Yet, while still I hear her say, - “One more kiss before the morning! - One more bliss for love’s adorning! - One more kiss ere break of day,” - Still my soul with her must stay. - - Stay, nor know, nor ever see! - Till her basilisk beauty flashes, - And the curse, from out the ashes - Of her passion, fiery, - Strikes--destroying utterly. - - - - - LYANNA. - -“_These elementary beings, we are told, were by their constitution more -long-lived than man, but with this essential disadvantage, that at death -they wholly ceased to exist. In the meantime they were inspired with an -earnest desire for immortality; and there was one way left for them, by -which this desire might be gratified. If they were so happy as to awaken -in any of the initiated (Rosicrucians) a passion, the end of which was -marriage, then the sylph became immortal._”--Godwin’s “Lives of the -Necromancers.” - - - Summer came over the Indian Ocean - Girdled with fire, tiaraed with light; - Her eyes all languor, her lips--a potion - To quaff--of poppy. And gold and white - She flashed and sparkled; all gleam and motion, - All blush and blossom she came; and I, - Of the race of the sylphs, o’er the Indian Ocean - Followed her through the sky. - - Self-exiled so from the sylphs that cluster, - Pulsing with pearl and burning with blue, - In domes of the dawn,--where the organs bluster - Low of the winds,--where they glow like dew - As the day dreams up, and their armies muster, - Ranges of glitter, in cloudy gold, - At the gates of the Dawn, of blinding luster, - To forth when her gates unfold. - - For Summer murmured me, “Follow! follow!” - Whispered one word that was all of love.-- - Winged with the speed of the sweeping swallow, - I followed the word she had breathed above: - “Follow! follow!”--the god Apollo - Never followed, with speed as strong - The flying nymph through holt and hollow, - As I that word of song. - - Fleet as the winds are fleet, yea, and fleeter - Far than the stars that throb, like foam, - Through the firmament’s blue, in musical metre - Winnowed my wings; and the golden gloam - Rang; and life was a passion, completer - Than a life in Eden; and love,--a lyre - That sang in my heart and made life sweeter - With hope,--a leaping fire. - - Thus to the north my wings went maying - Radiant ways, till a castle shone - Gaunt on great cliffs, with the late skies graying - O’er walls of war and their towers lone, - With tortuous steps to the sea, where, spraying, - Thundered the breakers; and terrace and stair, - Rock o’er the waters, rose rosy and raying - Deep in the sunset’s glare. - - A dewdrop burns when the dawn lights prickle: - And all my being tingled with light, - Bloomed when I saw her, tarrying fickle, - White on the castled height: - Slender she shone as the moon in sickle, - The slim new-moon, like a pearl-pale streak; - And golden, too, as the honey-trickle - Of combs where the wax is weak. - - In dreams I came to her, lo! as a vision: - Yea, by her side as a dream I stood; - To her innermost spirit I sighed my mission, - In the vestal ear of her maidenhood: - And she deemed me a dream; and I made a prison - Of my arms for her soul while she, smiling, slept: - Her body lay still, but her soul had arisen, - And looked on my face and wept: - - “Lyanna, I hoop thee with arms of fire!”-- - My words were music, a harp afloat,-- - “Lyanna, my heart is a vibrant wire, - Thy love is its only note. - Let it sing forever. Let it sound entire, - Full as the angels’ who hover and harp - To the glory that’s God, like a golden lyre - Borne in a beam that is sharp.... - - “Behold me, thy rose! full of flame and splendor! - Thy rose to pluck: thy ruby bloom: - Thy sylphid rose, with eyes that are tender; - Lips that are fire; and limbs of perfume - And fragrant fire: thy heart’s defender! - Thy airy lover!” ... And, bending above, - Sweeter my speech than a flower’s that, slender, - Tells to the stars its love. - - Lo, as I spoke, with thoughts that thicken, - Her heart seemed filled; and she spoke; but sleep - Shadowed her words, till my kiss did quicken - And free, like stars from the night that leap:-- - “Long I have waited; and long did sicken - To clasp thee thus, O my rose of love! - Oft have I dreamed of thee, yea, and was stricken - With joy at the thought thereof. - - “White are the clouds; but I saw thee whiter - ’Mid dazzling domes of the dawn; and knew - Tho’ bright are God’s stars, that thine eyes were brighter, - Brighter and burning blue. - And my heart was thine, though it held thee slighter - Than hues that the mists of the morning take: - And waited and yearned, and the yearning tighter - Than tears in the hearts that break. - - “‘Lyanna! Lyanna!’ I heard thee ever - Calling ‘Lyanna,’ a ripple of flame: - ‘Lyanna! Lyanna!’ like song forever; - And I marveled at my name. - The sound was such--that if stars could sever - And silver-syllable a word of beams, - So would it sound.--I turned; but never - Beheld thee, only in dreams. - - “Thou walkedst a beauty afar: a glitter - Of gleaming aroma: and I, with moan, - Reached thee my arms: but thy gaze was bitter, - Calmer and sterner than stone: - Avoiding thou passedst in scorn: a sitter, - I seemed, on the uttermost bounds of bliss: - When, lo! on the wind,--a flame, a flitter - Of fire,--thy laugh, and thy kiss!”-- - - I had won her love. And, behold! the thunder - Trumpeted tempest: I heard the seas - Lunge at the walls like a roaring wonder, - And the rain-wind sing in the trees.-- - Lyanna my bride.--And the heavens asunder - Rushed--chasms of glaring storm, where poured - The thunder’s cataracts, rolling under-- - And showed me, horde on horde, - - The shouting spirits of storm.--The portal - Of sleep was riven; she rose, and saw: - And I said to her soul, “Of the utterly mortal - Mine the eternal lot and law.”-- - “I love thee!” she answered.--And I, “Immortal - Am I through thy love!” ... And so we fled.... - Behold! when they came in the morn, astartle, - Men whispered--“Lyanna is dead!” - - - - - THE SPIRITS OF LIGHT AND DARKNESS - - - _Voices of Darkness_ - - Ere the birth of Death and of Time, - And of Hell, with its tears and its torments: - Ere the waves of heat and of rime, - And the winds to the heavens were as garments: - Cloud-like in the womb of Space, - Mist-like from her monster womb, - We sprang, a myriad race - Of thunder and tempest and gloom. - - - _Voices of Light_ - - As from the evil good - Springs, and desire: - As the white lily’s hood - Buds from the mire: - So from this midnight brood - Sprang we with fire. - - - _Voices of Darkness_ - - We had lain for long ages asleep - In her bosom, a bulk of torpor, - When down through the vasts of the deep - Clove a sound, like the notes of a harper: - Clove a sound, and the horrors grew - Tumultuous with turbulent night, - With whirlwinds of blackness that blew, - And storm that was godly in might. - And the walls of our dungeon were shattered - Like the crust of a fire-wrecked world: - As torrents of clouds that are scattered, - From the womb of the deep we were hurled. - - - _Voices of Light_ - - Us in unholy thought - Patiently lying, - Eöns of violence wrought, - Violence defying; - When, on a mighty wind, - Voiced of a godly mind, - Big with a motive kind, - Girdled with wonder, - Flame and a strength of song, - Rolling vast light along, - Thundered the Word, and Wrong - Vanished,--and we were strong, - Strong as the thunder. - - - _Voices of Darkness_ - - We people the lower spaces, - Where our cities of silence make scorn - Of the sun, and our shadowy faces - Are safe from the splendors of morn. - Our homes are wrecked worlds and each planet - Whose sun is a light that is sped; - Bleak moons, whose cold bodies of granite - Are hollow and flameless and dead. - - - _Voices of Light_ - - We in the living sun - Live like a passion: - Ere the sad Earth begun - We and the sun were one, - As God did fashion. - Lo! from our burning hands, - Flung like inspired brands, - Sowed we the worlds, like sands, - Countless as ocean: - And ’tis our breath gives life, - Life to those stars, all rife - With iridescent strife, - Music and motion. - - - _Voices of Darkness_ - - We joy in the hate of all mortals; - Inspire their crimes and the thought - That falters and halts at the portals - Of actions, intentions unwrought. - We cover the face of to-morrow: - We frown in the hours that be: - We breathe in the presence of sorrow: - And death and destruction are we. - - - _Voices of Light_ - - We are man’s hope and ease, - Joy and his pleasure; - Authors of love and peace, - Love that shall never cease, - Free as the azure. - Lo! we but look, and light - Heartens the world with might, - Vanquishes death and night - Hate and its burnings: - And from our bosoms stream - Beauty and yearnings - For a diviner dream, - Higher discernings. - - - _Voices of the Break of Day_ - - Morning and birth are ours; - Light that is blown - From our fair lips; and flowers, - Dropped from our hands in showers, - Seeds that are sown: - Song and the bursting buds, - Life of the fields and floods; - Strength that’s full-grown: - And, from our beryl jars, - Filled with the clouds and stars, - Pour we the winds and dew; - While by our eyes of blue - Darkness is rent in two, - Conquered and strown. - - - _Voices of the Dawn_ - - Ye in your darkness are - Dark and infernal; - Subject to death and mar! - But in the spaces far, - Like our effulgent star, - We are eternal. - - - - - THE WATER WITCH - - - See! the milk-white doe is wounded. - He will follow as it bounds - Through the woods. His horn has sounded, - Echoing, for his men and hounds. - But no answering bugle blew. - He has lost his retinue - For the shapely deer that bounded - Past him when his bow he drew. - - Not one hound or huntsman follows. - Through the underbrush and moss - Goes the slot; and in the hollows - Of the hills, that he must cross, - He has lost it. He must fare - Over rocks where she-wolves lair; - Wood-pools where the wild-boar wallows: - So he leaves his hunter there. - - Through his mind then flashed an olden - Legend told him by the monks:-- - Of a girl, whose hair is golden, - Haunting fountains and the trunks - Of the woodlands; who, they say, - Is a white doe all the day, - But when woods are night-enfolden - Turns into an evil fay. - - Then the story once his teacher - Told him: of a mountain lake - Demons dwell in; vague of feature, - Human-like; but each a snake, - She is queen of.--Did he hear - Laughter at his startled ear? - Or a bird?--And now, what creature - Is it,--or the wind,--stirs near? - - Fever of the hunt! This water, - Falling here, will cool his head. - Through the forest, dyed in slaughter, - Slants the sunset; ruby-red - Are the drops that slip between - Hollowed hands, while on the green,-- - Like the couch of some wild daughter - Of the forest,--he doth lean. - - But the runnel, bubbling, dripping, - Seems to bid him to be gone; - As with crystal words and tripping - Steps of sparkle luring on. - Now a spirit in the rocks - Calls him; now a face that mocks, - From behind some boulder slipping, - Laughs at him through lilied locks. - - And he follows through the flowers, - Blue and gold, that blossom there; - Thridding twilight-haunted bowers - Where each ripple seems the bare - Beauty of white limbs that gleam - Rosy through the running stream; - Or bright-shaken hair, that showers - Starlight in the sunset’s beam. - - Till, far in the forest, sleeping - Like a luminous darkness, lay - A deep water, wherein, leaping, - Fell the Fountain of the Fay, - With a singing, sighing sound, - As of spirit things around, - Musically laughing, weeping - In the air and underground. - - Not a ripple o’er it merried: - Like the round moon in a cloud, - In its rocks the lake lay buried: - And strange creatures seemed to crowd - Its dark depths: dim limbs and eyes - To the surface seemed to rise - Spawn-like; or, all formless, ferried - Through the water shadow-wise. - - Foliage things with woman faces, - Demon-dreadful, pale and wild - As the forms the lightning traces - On the clouds the storm has piled - In the darkness.--On the strand-- - What is that which now doth stand?-- - ’Tis a woman: and she places - On his arm a spray-white hand. - - Ah! two mystic worlds of sorrow - Were her eyes; her hair, a place - Whence the moon its gold might borrow; - And a dream of ice her face: - Round her hair and throat in rims - Pearls of foam hung; and through whims - Of her robe, as breaks the morrow, - Gleamed the rose-light of her limbs. - - Who could help but gaze with gladness - On such beauty? though within, - Deep within the beryl sadness - Of those eyes, the serpent sin - Seemed to coil.--She placed her cheek - Chilly upon his, and weak - With love-longing and its madness - Grew he. Then he heard her speak:-- - - “Dost thou love me?”--“If surrender - Of the soul means love, I love.” - “Dost not fear me?”--“Fear?--more slender - Art thou than a wildwood dove. - Yet I fear--I fear to lose - Thee, thy love.”--“And thou dost choose - Aye to be my heart’s defender?”-- - “Take me. I am thine to use.” - - “Follow then.--Ah, love, no lowly - Home I give thee.”--With fixed eyes - To the water’s edge she slowly - Drew him.... Nor did he surmise - Who this creature was, until - O’er his face the foam closed chill, - Whispering, and the lake unholy - Rippled, rippled and was still. - - - - - THE SUCCUBA - - - I have dreams where I believe - That a queen of some dim palace, - One, whose name is Genevieve, - Weighs me with her love or malice: - She is dead and yet my bride: - And she glimmers at my side - Offering a crystal chalice - Filled with fire, diamond-dyed. - - I have dreams. Ah, would that I - Might forget them!--I remember - How her gaze, all icily - Draws me, like a glowing ember, - Up her castle-stair’s pale-paved - Alabaster, from the waved - Ocean, grayer than November, - Where I linger, soul-enslaved. - - Walls of shadow and of night - Lit with casements full of fire, - Somber red or piercing white: - As the wind breathes lower, higher, - Round the towers spirit-things - Whisper, and the haunted strings - Moan of each huge, plangent lyre - Set upon its four chief wings. - - In its corridors at tryst - Flame-eyed phantoms meet. Its sparry - Halls are misty amethyst: - Battlemented ’neath the starry - Skies it looms; the strange unknown - Skies where, green as glow-worms, sown, - Gloom the stars; the moon hangs barry - Beryl, low and large and lone.... - - Can it be a witch is she? - Or a vampire? she, far whiter - Than the spirits of the sea!-- - She whose eyes are cold, yet brighter - Than her throat’s pale jewels. Lo! - Flame she is though seeming snow: - And her love lies tighter, tighter - On my heart than utter woe. - - Though I dream, it seems I live; - And my heart is sick with sorrow - Of the love that it must give - To her; passion, it must borrow - Of herself, unhallowed, vain; - Then return it her again: - Thus she holds me; and to-morrow - Still will hold with sweetest pain. - - In her garden’s moon-white space - Strangest flowers bloom: huge lilies, - Each one with a human face; - Knots of spirit-amaryllis; - Cactus-bulks with pulpy blooms - Gnome-like in the silver glooms; - And dim deeps of daffadillies, - Fay-like, brimming faint perfumes. - - But to me their fragrance seems - Poison; and their lambent lustre, - Spun of twilight and of dreams, - Poison; and each pearly cluster - Hides a serpent’s fang. And I, - Looking from an oriel, sigh; - For my soul is fain to muster - Heart to breathe of them and die. - - Then I feel big eyes, as bright - As the sea-stars. Gray with glitter, - She behind me, moony white, - Smiles, ’mid hangings wherein flitter - Loves and deeds of Amadis - Darkly worked. And then her kiss - On my mouth falls; sweet and bitter - With a bliss that is not bliss. - - And I kiss her eyes and hair; - Smooth her tresses till their golden - Glimmer sparkles. Everywhere - Shapes of strange aromas, holden - Of the walls, around us troop; - And in golden loop on loop,-- - Of the lull’d eyes vague beholden,-- - Forms of music o’er us stoop. - - Yet I see beneath it all, - All this sorcery, a devil, - Beautiful, and white, and tall, - Broods with shadowy eyes of evil: - She, who must resume with morn - Her true shape: a cactus-thorn, - Monstrous, on some lonely level - Of that demon-world forlorn. - - I have dreams where I believe - That a queen of some dim palace, - One, whose name is Genevieve, - Weighs me with her love or malice: - And all night I am her slave - There beside the demon wave, - Where I drain the loathsome chalice - Of her love, that is my grave. - - - - - MASKS - - _Cucullus non facit monachum_ - - - Live it down! as you have spoken - You could live it ere you knew - What love was--“a bauble broken, - Foolish, of a thing untrue.”-- - You, Viola, with your beauty, - Cloistered, die a nun? No! you-- - You must wed: it is your duty. - - There’s your poniard; for the second - In this tazza dropped: the blood - On it scarcely hard.... I reckoned - Happily that hour we stood - There upon your palace-stairway, - How, with the Franciscan hood - Cowled, I said, there was a bare way. - - In the minster there I found it-- - Our revenge. I saw him, wild, - Stalking towards the church: around it - Dogged him, marking how he smiled - In the moonlight where I waited. - When the great clock, beating, dialed - Ten, I knew he would be mated. - - Heaven or my better devil!-- - Hardly had his sword and plume - Vanished in the dark, when, level - On the long lagoon, did loom, - Under moonlight-woven arches, - Her slim gondola: all gloom: - One tall gondolier: no torches. - - Dusky gondolas kept bringing - Revellers: and far the night - Rang with instruments and singing.-- - From the imbricated light - Of the oar-vibrating water, - Gliding up the stairway, white, - Velvet-masked,--the count’s own daughter! - - Quick I met her: whispered, “Flora, - Gaston.--_Mia_, till they go, - One brief moment here, Siora.-- - She’ll perceive us--she, below, - See! the duchess’ diamonds sparkling - Round the inviolable glow - Of her throat--there, dimly darkling: - - “That’s Viola!” ... Thus I drew her - In the church’s ancient pile-- - Under her black mask I knew her, - By her chin, her lips, her smile. - Through one marble-foliated - Window fell the moon-rays. While - All the maskers passed we waited. - - I had drawn the dagger. Turning - Called her by her name. Some lie - Of a passion sighed, her burning - Hand in mine; when, stalking by, - In the square, _his_ form bejeweled - Gleamed. My very blood burned dry - With the hate his presence fueled. - - Our revenge! up-pushing slightly - Cowl, the mask fell, and revealed - Balka, as the poniard whitely - Flashed. The hollow nave re-pealed - One long shriek the loft repeated. - Swift, I stabbed her thrice. She reeled - Dead. I thought of you, the heated - - Horror on my hands; and tarried - Still as silence. Drawn aside - On her face the mask hung, married - To its camphor-pallor: wide - Eyes with terror--stone. One second - I regretted; then defied - All remorse. Your promise beckoned; - - And I left her. Love had pointed - Me this way. I walked the way - Clear-eyed and ... it has anointed - Us fast lovers?--Do not say, - Now, that you will go and nun it! - For this man who scorned you?--Nay!-- - Live to hate him! You ’ve begun it. - - - - - CARMEN - - - _La Gitanilla_, tall dragoons - In Andalusian afternoons, - With ogling eye and compliment, - Smiled on you as along you went - Some sleepy street of old Seville; - Twirled with a military skill - Moustaches; buttoned uniforms - Of Spanish yellow bowed your charms. - - Proud, wicked head, and hair blue-black, - Whence the mantilla, half thrown back, - Discovered shoulders and bold breast - Bohemian brown. And you were dressed - In some short skirt of gypsy red - Of smuggled stuff; and stockings,--dead - White silk,--that, worn with many a hole, - Let the plump leg peep through; while stole, - Now in, now out, your dainty toes, - Sheathed in morocco shoes, with bows - Of scarlet ribbon.--Flirtingly - You walked by me; and I did see - Your oblique eyes, your sensuous lip - That gnawed the rose I saw you flip - At bashful José’s nose while loud - The gaunt guards laughed among the crowd. - And in your brazen chemise thrust, - Heaved with the swelling of your bust, - A bunch of white acacia blooms - Whiffed past my nostrils hot perfumes. - - As in a cool _neveria_ - I ate an ice with Mérimée, - Dark Carmencita, very gay - You passed, with light and lissome tread, - All holiday bedizenéd; - A new mantilla on your head: - Your crimson dress gleamed, spangled fierce; - And crescent gold, hung in your ears, - Shone, wrought Morisco; and each shoe, - Of Cordovan leather, buckled blue, - Glanced merriment; and from large arms - To well-turned ankles all your charms - Blew flutterings and glitterings - Of satin bands and beaded strings: - Around each tight arm, twisted gold - Coiled serpents, and, a single fold, - Wreathed wrists; each serpent’s jeweled head, - With rubies set, convulsive red. - In flowers and trimmings, to the jar - Of mandolin and gay guitar, - You in the grated patio - Danced: the curled coxcombs’ staring row - Rang pleased applause. I saw you dance, - With wily motion and glad glance, - Voluptuous, the wild _romalis_, - Where every movement was a kiss, - A song, a poem, interwound - With your Basque tambourine’s dull sound. - I,--as the ebon castanets - Clucked out dry time in unctuous jets,-- - Saw angry José through the grate - Glare on us, a pale face of hate, - When some indecent officer - Presumed too lewdly to you there. - - Some still night in Seville: the street - Candilejo: two shadows meet: - Swift sabres flash within the moon-- - Clash rapidly.--A dead dragoon. - - - - - AT NINEVEH - - - There was a princess once, who loved the slave - Of an Assyrian king, her father; known - At Nineveh as Hadria; o’er whose grave - The sands of centuries have long been blown; - Yet sooner shall the night forget its stars - Than love her story:--How, unto his throne, - One day she came, where, with his warriors, - The King sat in his hall of audience, - ’Mid pillared trophies of barbaric wars, - And, kneeling to him, asked, “O father, whence - Comes love and why?”--He, smiling on her said,-- - “O Hadria, love is of the gods, and hence - Divine, is only soul-interpreted. - But why love is, ah, child, we do not know, - Unless ’t is love that gives us life when dead.”-- - And then his daughter, with a face aglow - With all the love that clamored in her blood - Its sweet avowal, lifted arms of snow, - And, like Aurora’s rose, before him stood, - Saying,--“Since love is of the powers above, - I love a slave, O Asshur!--Let the good - The gods have giv’n be sanctioned.--Speak not of - Dishonor and our line’s ancestral dead! - _They_ are imperial dust. _I_ live and love.”-- - Black as black storm then rose the King and said,-- - A lightning gesture sweeping at her there,-- - “Enough! ho, Rhana, strike me off her head!” - And at the mandate, with his limbs half bare - A slave strode forth. Majestic was his form - As some young god’s. He, gathering up her hair, - Wound it three times around his sinewy arm; - Then drew his sword. It for one moment shone - A semicircling light, and, dripping warm, - Lifting the head he stood before the throne. - Then said the despot, “By the horn of Bel! - This was no child of mine!”--Like chiseled stone - Stern stood the slave, a son of Israel. - Then striding towards the monarch, in his eye - The wrath of heaven and the hate of hell, - Shrieked, “Beast! I loved her! look on us and die!” - Swifter than fire clove him to the brain. - Then kissed her face, and, holding it on high, - Cried out, “Judge thou, O God, between us twain!” - And, fifty daggers in his heart, fell slain. - - - - - SENORITA - - - An agate black, her roguish eyes - Claim no proud lineage of the skies, - No starry blue; but of good earth - The reckless witchery and mirth. - - Looped in her raven hair’s repose, - A hot aroma, one red rose - Droops; envious of that loveliness, - Through being near which, its is less. - - Twin sea-shells hung with pearls, her ears; - Whose delicate rosiness appears - Part of the pearls; whose pallid fire - Binds the attention these inspire. - - One slim hand crumples up the lace - About her bosom’s swelling grace; - A ruby at her samite throat - Lends the required color-note. - - The moon brings up the violet night - An urn of pearly-chaliced light; - And from the dark-railed balcony - She stoops and waves her fan at me. - - O’er orange blossoms and the rose - Vague, odorous lips the South Wind blows, - Peopling the night with whispers of - Romance and palely passionate love. - - And now she speaks; and seems to reach - My soul like song that learned its speech - From some dim instrument--who knows?-- - Or flow’r, a dulcimer or rose. - - - - - SINCE THEN - - - I found myself among the trees - What time the reapers ceased to reap; - And in the sunflower-blooms the bees - Huddled brown heads and went to sleep, - Rocked by the balsam-breathing breeze. - - I saw the red fox leave his lair, - A shaggy shadow, on the knoll; - And, tunnelling his thoroughfare - Beneath the soil, I watched the mole-- - Stealth’s own self could not take more care. - - I heard the death-moth tick and stir, - Slow-honeycombing through the bark; - I heard the cricket’s drowsy chirr, - And one lone beetle burr the dark-- - The sleeping woodland seemed to purr. - - And then the moon rose: and a white - Low bough of blossoms--grown almost - Where, ere you died, ’t was our delight - To tryst,--dear heart!--I thought your ghost: - --The wood is haunted since that night. - - - - - AFTER DEATH - - - At moonset, when ghost speaks with ghost - And spirits meet where once they sinned, - Between the whispering wood and coast, - My soul met her soul on the wind, - My late-lost Evalind. - - I kissed her mouth. Her face was wild. - Two burning shadows were her eyes, - Wherein the love,--that once had smiled - A heartbreak smile,--in some strange wise, - I did not recognize. - - Then suddenly I seemed to see - How sin had damned my soul and doomed - To wander thus eternally - With love and loathing, that assumed - The form of her entombed. - - - - - - THE OLD MAN DREAMS - - - The blackened walnut in its spicy hull - Rots where it fell; - And, in the orchard, where the trees stand full, - The pear’s brown bell - Drops; and the log-house in the bramble lane, - From whose low door - Stretch yellowing acres of the corn and cane, - He sees once more. - - The cat-bird sings upon its porch of pine; - And o’er its gate, - All slender-podded, twists the trumpet-vine - Its leafy weight: - And in the woodland, by the spring, mayhap, - With eyes of joy - Again he bends to set a rabbit-trap, - A brown-faced boy. - - Then, whistling, through the underwoods he goes, - Out of the wood, - Where, with young cheeks, red as an autumn rose, - In gingham hood, - His sweetheart waits, her school-books on her arm: - And now it seems - Beside his chair bends down his wife’s fair form-- - The old man dreams. - - - - - MEMORIES - - - Here where Love lies perishéd, - Look not in upon the dead, - Lest the shadowy curtains, shaken - In my Heart’s dark chamber, waken - Ghosts, beneath whose garb of sorrow - Whilom gladness bows his head: - When you come at morn, to-morrow, - Look not in upon the dead, - Here where Love lies perishéd. - - Here where Love lies cold interred, - Let no syllable be heard, - Lest the hollow echoes, housing - In my Soul’s deep tomb, arousing - Wake a voice of woe, once laughter - Claimed and clothed in joy’s own word: - When you come at dusk, or after, - Let no syllable be heard, - Here where Love lies cold interred. - - - - - MARCH AND MAY - - - Windy the sky and mad; - Surly the gray March day; - Bleak the forests and sad,-- - Oh, that it only were May! - - On maples, tasseled with red, - No blithe bird, fluting, swung; - The brook, in its swollen bed, - Raved on in an unknown tongue. - - We walked in the wind-tossed wood: - Her face as the May’s was fair; - Her blood was the May’s own blood; - And May’s her radiant hair. - - And we found in the woodland wild - One cowering violet, - Like a frail and timorous child, - In the caked leaves bowed and wet. - - And I said, “We have walked in vain! - To find but this shivering bud, - Weighed down with its weight of rain, - Crouched here in the wild March wood.” - - But she said, “Though the day be sad, - And the skies be dark with fate, - There is always something glad - That will help our hearts to wait. - - “Look, now, at this beautiful thing, - In this wood’s wild hollow curled! - ’Tis a promise of joy and spring, - And of love, to the waiting world. - - “Ah, the sinless Earth is fair, - And man’s are the sin and the gloom-- - Come, bury the days that were, - And look to’ard the days to come!” - - * * * * * - - And the May came on with her charms, - With twinkle and rustle of feet; - Blooms stormed from her luminous arms - And songs that were wildly sweet. - - Now I think of her words that day, - This day that I longed so to see, - That finds her dead with the May, - And my life but a withered tree. - - - - - IN AUTUMN - - - I - - Sunflowers wither and lilies die, - Poppies are pods of seeds; - The first red leaves on the pathway lie, - Like blood of a heart that bleeds. - - Weary alway will it be to-day, - Weary and wan and wet; - Dawn and noon will the clouds hang gray, - And the autumn wind will sigh and say, - “He comes not yet, not yet, - Weary alway, alway!” - - - II - - Hollyhocks bend all tattered and torn, - Marigolds all are gone; - The last pale rose lies all forlorn, - Like love that is trampled on. - - Weary, ah me! to-night will be, - Weary and wild and hoar; - Rain and mist will blow from the sea, - And the wind will sob in the autumn tree, - “He comes no more, no more. - Weary, ah me! ah me!” - - - - -“WHEN SHE DRAWS NEAR” - - - I - - When she draws near, - I seem to hear - The shy approach of some wild innocence: - As if--in acorn crown-- - A dryad should step down - From some dim oak-tree where the woods are dense. - - - II - - When she’s with me, - I seem to see - The brambles blossom where just touched her dress: - As, with her love’s perfume, - She touches into bloom - The thorns of life and gives them loveliness. - - - - - REED CALL FOR APRIL - - - I - - When April comes, and pelts with buds - And apple-blooms each orchard space, - And takes the dogwood-whitened woods - With rain and sunshine of her moods, - Like your fair face, like your sweet face: - - It’s honey for the bud and dew, - And honey for the heart! - And, oh, to be away with you - Beyond the town and mart. - - - II - - When April comes and tints the hills - With gold and beryl that rejoice, - And from her airy apron spills - The laughter of the winds and rills, - Like your young voice, like your sweet voice: - - It’s gladness for God’s bending blue, - And gladness for the heart! - And, oh, to be away with you - Beyond the town and mart. - - - III - - When April comes, and binds and girds - The world with warmth that breathes above, - And to the breeze flings all her birds, - Whose songs are welcome as the words - Of you I love, O you I love: - - It’s music for all things that woo, - And music for the heart! - And, oh, to be away with you - Beyond the town and mart. - - - - - HER VIOLIN - - - I - - Her violin!--Again begin - The dream-notes of her violin; - And tall and fair, with gold-brown hair, - I seem to see her standing there, - Soft-eyed and sweetly slender: - The room again, with strain on strain, - Vibrates to Love’s melodious pain, - As, sloping slow, is poised her bow, - While round her form the golden glow - Of sunset spills its splendor. - - - II - - Her violin!--Now deep, now thin, - Again I hear her violin; - And, dream by dream, again I seem - To see the love-light’s tender gleam - Beneath her eyes’ long lashes: - While to my heart she seems a part - Of her pure song’s inspired art; - And, as she plays, the rosy grays - Of twilight halo hair and face, - While sunset burns to ashes. - - - III - - O violin!--Cease, cease within - My soul, O haunting violin! - In vain, in vain, you bring again, - Back from the past, the blissful pain - Of all the love then spoken; - When on my breast, at happy rest, - A sunny while her head was pressed-- - Peace, peace to these wild memories! - For, like my heart naught remedies, - Her violin lies broken. - - - - - MEETING IN SUMMER - - - A tranquil bar - Of rosy twilight under dusk’s first star. - - A glimmering sound - Of whispering waters over grassy ground. - - A sun-sweet smell - Of fresh-reaped hay from dewy field and dell. - - A lazy breeze - Jostling the ripeness from the apple-trees. - - A vibrant cry, - Passing, then gone, of bullbats in the sky. - - And faintly now - The katydid upon the shadowy bough. - - And far off then - The little owl within the lonely glen. - - And soon, full soon, - The silvery arrival of the moon. - - And, to your door, - The path of roses I have trod before. - - And, sweetheart, you! - Among the roses and the moonlit dew. - - - - - HER VIVIEN EYES - - - Her Vivien eyes,--beware! beware!-- - Though they be stars, a deadly snare - They set beneath her night of hair. - Regard them not! lest, drawing near-- - As sages once in old Chaldee-- - Thou shouldst become a worshiper, - And they thy evil destiny. - - Her Vivien eyes,--away! away!-- - Though they be springs, remorseless they - Gleam underneath her brow’s bright day. - Turn, turn aside, whate’er the cost! - Lest in their deeps thou lures behold, - Through which thy captive soul were lost, - As was young Hylas once of old. - - Her Vivien eyes,--take heed! take heed!-- - Though they be bibles, none may read - Therein of God or Holy Creed. - Look, look away! lest thou be cursed,-- - As Merlin was, romances tell,-- - And in their sorcerous spells immersed, - Hoping for Heaven thou chance on Hell. - -[Illustration: - - I look into thy heart and then I know - The wondrous poetry of the long-ago - - Page 496 - _Reasons_] - - - - - REASONS - - - I - - Yea, why I love thee let my heart repeat: - I look upon thy face and then divine - How men could die for beauty, such as thine,-- - Deeming it sweet - To lay my life and manhood at thy feet, - And for a word, a glance, - Do deeds of old romance. - - - II - - Yea, why I love thee let my heart unfold: - I look into thy heart and then I know - The wondrous poetry of the long-ago, - The Age of Gold, - That speaks strange music, that is old, so old, - Yet young, as when ’t was born, - With all the youth of morn. - - - III - - Yea, why I love thee let my heart conclude: - I look into thy soul and realize - The undiscovered meaning of the skies,-- - That long have wooed - The world with far ideals that elude,-- - Out of whose dreams, maybe, - God shapes reality. - - - - - HER VESPER SONG - - - The summer lightning comes and goes - In one white cloud above the hill, - As if within its soft repose - A burning heart were never still-- - As in my bosom pulses beat - Before the coming of his feet. - - All drugged with odorous sleep, the rose - Breathes dewy balm about the place, - As if the dreams the garden knows - Arose, in immaterial grace-- - As in my heart sweet thoughts arise - Beneath the ardour of his eyes. - - The moon above the darkness shows - An orb of silvery snow and fire, - As if the night would now disclose - To heav’n her one divine desire-- - As in the rapture of his kiss - All my glad soul is drawn to his. - - The cloud divines not that it glows; - The rose knows nothing of its scent; - Nor knows the moon that it bestows - Light on our earth and firmament-- - So is the soul unconscious of - The beauties it reveals through love. - - - - - - THE GLORY AND THE DREAM - - - There in the past I see her as of old, - Blue-eyed and hazel-haired, within a room - Dim with a twilight of tenebrious gold; - Her white face sensuous as a delicate bloom - Night opens in the tropics. Fold on fold - Pale laces drape her; and a frail perfume, - As of a moonlit lily brimmed with rain, - Breathes from her presence, drowsing heart and brain. - - Her head is bent; some red carnations glow - Deep in her heavy hair; her large eyes gleam;-- - Bright sister stars of those twin worlds of snow, - Her breasts, through which the veinéd violets stream.-- - I hold her hand; her smile comes sweetly slow - As thoughts of love that haunt a poet’s dream: - And at her feet once more I sit and hear - Wild words of passion--dead this many a year. - - - - - SNOW AND FIRE - - - Deep-hearted roses of the purple dusk - And lilies of the morn; - And cactus, holding up a slender tusk - Of fragrance on a thorn; - All heavy flowers, sultry with their musk, - Her presence puts to scorn. - - For she is like the pale, pale snowdrop there, - Scentless and chaste of heart; - The moonflower, making spiritual the air, - Like some pure work of art; - Divine and holy, exquisitely fair, - And virtue’s counterpart. - - Yet when her eyes gaze into mine, and when - Her lips to mine are pressed,-- - Why are my veins all fire then? and then - Why should her soul suggest - Voluptuous perfumes, maddening unto men, - And prurient with unrest? - - - - - IN MAY - - - I - - When you and I in the hills went Maying, - You and I in the bright May weather, - The birds, that sang on the boughs together, - There in the green of the woods, kept saying - All that my heart was saying low, - “I love you! love you!” soft and low;-- - And did you know? - When you and I in the hills went Maying. - - - II - - There where the brook on its rocks went winking, - There by its banks where the May had led us, - Flowers, that bloomed in the woods and meadows, - Azure and gold at our feet, kept thinking - All that my soul was thinking there, - “I love you! love you!” softly there;-- - And did you care? - There where the brook on its rocks went winking. - - - III - - Whatever befalls through fate’s compelling, - Should our paths unite or our pathways sever, - In the Mays to-come I shall feel forever - The wildflowers thinking, the wild-birds telling, - In words as soft as the falling dew, - The love that I keep here still for you, - As deep and true, - Whatever befalls through fate’s compelling. - - - - -“WERE I AN ARTIST” - - - Were I an artist, Lydia, I - Would paint you as you merit, - Not as my eyes, but dreams descry; - Not in the flesh, but spirit. - - The canvas I would paint you on - Should be a strip of heaven; - My brush, a sunbeam; pigments, dawn - And night and starry even. - - Your form and features to express - Likewise your soul’s chaste whiteness, - I’d take the primal essences - Of darkness and of brightness. - - I’d take pure night to paint your hair; - Stars for your eyes; and morning - To paint your skin--the rosy air - Which is your limbs’ adorning. - - To paint the love-bows of your lips, - I’d mix, for colors, kisses; - And for your breasts and finger-tips, - Sweet odors and soft blisses. - - And to complete the picture well, - I’d temper all with woman,-- - Some tears, some laughter; heaven and hell, - To show you yet are human. - - - - - THE RIDE - - - She rode o’er hill, she rode o’er plain, - She rode by fields of barley, - By morning-glories filled with rain, - Along the wood-side gnarly. - - She rode o’er plain, she rode o’er hill, - By orchard land and berry; - Her eyes were sparkling as the rill, - Cheeks, redder than the cherry. - - A bird sang here, a bird sang there, - Then blithely sang together; - Sang sudden greeting everywhere, - “Good-morrow!” and “Good weather!” - - The sunlight’s laughing radiance - Laughed in her radiant tresses; - The bold breeze made her wild curls dance, - And flushed her face with kisses. - - “Why ride you here, why ride you there, - Why ride you here so merry? - The sunlight living in your hair, - And in your cheek the berry? - - “Why ride you with your sea-green plumes, - Your sea-green silken habit, - By balmy bosks of faint perfumes, - And haunts of roe and rabbit?” - - “The morning ploughed the east with gold, - And planted it with holly; - And I was young and he was old, - And rich, and melancholy. - - “A wife they ’d have me to his bed, - And to the church they hurried; - But now, gramercy! he is dead! - Thank God! is dead and buried. - - “I ride by tree, I ride by rill, - I ride by rye and clover, - For by the church beyond the hill - Awaits my first true lover.” - - - - - AT PARTING - - - What is there left for us to say, - Now it is time to speak good-by? - And all our dreams of yesterday - Are one with yester-evening’s sky-- - What is there left for us to say, - Now different ways before us lie? - - A word of hope, a word of cheer, - A word of love, whose help shall last, - When we are far to bring us near - Through memories of the happy past; - A word of hope, a word of cheer, - To keep our young hearts true and fast. - - What is there left for us to do, - Now it is time to say farewell? - And care, that bade us once adieu, - Returns again with us to dwell-- - What is there left for us to do, - Now different ways our fates compel? - - Clasp hands and kiss, touch lips and smile, - And look the love that shall remain-- - When severed so by many a mile-- - The sweetest balm for bitterest pain: - Clasp hands and kiss, touch lips and smile, - And trust to God to meet again. - - - - - IN THE GARDEN OF GIRLS - - - Serious, but smiling, stately and serene, - And lovelier than a flower, - She stands; in whom all sympathies convene - As perfumes in a bower; - Through whom I feel what soul and heart must mean, - And all their love and power. - - Eyes, that commune with the frank skies of truth, - Beneath their cloud-like curls; - Lips of immortal rose, where joy and youth - Nestle like priceless pearls; - Hair, that suggests the Bible braids of Ruth, - Deeper than any girl’s. - - When first I saw her, ’t was as if within - My gaze took shape some song-- - Played by a master of the violin-- - A music, pure and strong, - That rapt my soul above all earthly sin - To heights that know no wrong. - - - - -“COME TO THE HILLS” - - - Come to the hills, the woods are green-- - The heart is high when lovers meet-- - There is a brook that flows between - Mossed rocks where we will make our seat, - Where we will sit and speak unseen. - - I hear you laughing in the lane-- - The heart is high when lovers meet-- - The clover smells of sun and rain - And spreads a carpet for our feet, - Where we will walk and dream again. - - Come to the woods, the dusk is here-- - The heart is high when lovers meet-- - A bird upon the branches near - Sets music to our hearts’ sweet beat, - Our hearts that beat with something dear. - - I hear your step; the lane is passed-- - The heart is high when lovers meet-- - The little stars come bright and fast, - Like happy eyes that watch us, Sweet, - That see us greet and kiss at last. - - - - - EVASION - - - I - - Why do I love you, who have never given - My heart encouragement or any cause? - Is it because, as earth is held of heaven, - Your soul holds mine by some mysterious laws? - Perhaps, unseen of me, within your eyes - The answer lies. - - - II - - From your sweet lips no word hath ever fallen - To tell my heart its love is not in vain-- - The bee that woos the flow’r hath honey and pollen - To cheer him on and bring him back again: - But what have I, your other friends above, - To feed my love? - - - III - - Still, still you are my dream and my desire; - Your love is an allurement and a dare - Set for attainment, like a shining spire, - Far, far above me in the starry air: - And gazing upward, ’gainst the hope of hope, - I breast the slope. - - - - - WILL YOU FORGET? - - - In years to come, will you forget, - Dear girl, how often we have met? - And I have gazed into your eyes - And there beheld no sad regret - To cloud the gladness of their skies, - While in your heart--unheard as yet-- - Love slept, oblivious of my sighs?-- - In years to come, will you forget? - - Ah, me! I only pray that when, - In other days, some man of men - Has taught those eyes to laugh and weep - With joy and sorrow, hearts must ken - When love awakens in their deep,-- - I only pray some memory then, - Or sad or sweet, you still will keep - Of me and love that might have been. - - - - - CONTRASTS - - No eve of summer ever can attain - The gladness of that eve of late July, - When ’mid the roses, dripping with the rain, - Against the wondrous topaz of the sky, - I met you, leaning on the pasture bars,-- - While heaven and earth grew conscious of the stars. - - No night of blackest winter can repeat - The bitterness of that December night, - When, at your gate, gray-glittering with sleet, - Within the glimmering square of window-light, - We parted,--long you clung unto my arm,-- - While heaven and earth surrendered to the storm. - - - - - CARISSIMA MEA - - - I look upon my sweetheart’s face, - And, in the world about me, see - No face like hers in any place. - - It is not made, as others sing - Of their young loves, like ivory, - But like a wild-rose in the spring. - - Her brow is low and very fair, - And o’er it, smooth and shadowy, - Lies deep the darkness of her hair. - - Beneath her brows her eyes gleam gray, - And gaze out glad and fearlessly-- - Their wonder haunts me night and day. - - Her eyebrows, arched and delicate,-- - Twin curves of penciled ebony,-- - Within their spans contain my fate. - - Her mouth, that was for kisses curved,-- - So small and sweet!--it well may be - That it for me is yet reserved. - - Between her hair and rounded chin, - Calm with her soul’s calm purity, - There lies no shadow of a sin. - - Of perfect form, she is not tall,-- - Just higher than the heart of me, - O’er which I place her, all in all. - - She is not shaped, as some have sung - Of their young loves, like some slim tree, - But like the moon when it is young. - - Her hands, that smell of violet, - So white and fashioned fragrantly, - Have woven round my heart a net. - - Yea, I have loved her many a day; - And though for me she may not be, - Still at her feet my love I lay. - - Albeit she be not for me, - God send her grace and grant that she - Know naught of sorrow all her days, - And help me still to sing her praise! - - - - - AN AUTUMN NIGHT - - - Some things are good on autumn nights, - When with the storm the forest fights, - And in the room the heaped hearth lights - Old-fashioned press and rafter: - Plump chestnuts hissing in the heat, - A mug of cider, sharp and sweet, - And at your side a face petite, - With lips of laughter. - - Upon the roof the rolling rain, - And, tapping at the window-pane, - The wind that seems a witch’s cane - That summons spells together: - A hand within your own a while; - A mouth reflecting back your smile; - And eyes, two stars, whose beams exile - All thoughts of weather. - - And, while the wind lulls, still to sit - And watch her fire-lit needles flit - A-knitting, and to feel her knit - Your very heart-strings in it: - Then, when the old clock ticks “’t is late,” - To rise, and at the door to wait - Two words, or, at the garden-gate, - A kissing minute. - - - - - A DAUGHTER OF THE STATES - - - She has the eyes of some barbarian Queen - Leading her wild tribes into battle; eyes, - Wherein th’ unconquerable soul defies, - And Love sits throned, imperious and serene. - - And I have thought that Liberty, alone - Among her mountain stars, might look like her, - Kneeling to God, her only emperor, - Kindling her torch on Freedom’s altar-stone. - - For in her self, regal with riches of - Beauty and youth, again those Queens seem born-- - Boadicea, meeting scorn with scorn, - And Ermengarde, returning love for love. - - - - - THE QUARREL - - - An instant only and her eyes - Flashed lightning like the angry skies; - - And o’er her forehead, curving down, - Fell dark the shadow of a frown; - - Then backward, deep and stormy fair, - She tossed the tempest of her hair; - - Then of her lips’ full rose disdain - Made a pink-folded bud again; - - Then quicker than all utterance, - All changed: and at a word, a glance, - - Her anger rained its tears, then passed; - And she was in my arms at last; - - The austere woman, doubly dear, - And lovelier for each falling tear: - - But why we quarreled, how it grew, - I can not tell, I never knew: - - Perhaps ’t was Love; he, who, with tears, - Would show how fair a face appears; - - As, after storm, the sky ’s more blue, - A wildflower ’s fairer for the dew. - - - - - MIRIAM - - - What better praise for all her ways - Than that all days her ways illume? - Such brightness as the maiden year - Knows, when God’s kindness seems as near - As flowers whose wisdom ’s but to bloom. - - Hers the deep hair: a face more fair - Than roses June sets blossoming: - The sunshine of her gladness gleams - In bloom-bright lips and cheeks, and dreams - Upon her throat’s soft coloring. - - Her voice is sweet as birds that greet - With song the coming of the light: - The serious happy gleam that lies - In the dark lustre of her eyes - Is as the starlight to the night. - - Beyond the sea such girls as she - It was whom Titian loved to paint, - With calm Madonna eyes, and hair - Rich auburn; robed in gold and vair, - Fair as the vision of a saint. - - - - - THE SUMMER SEA - - - Over the summer sea, - When the white-eyed stars look pale, - And the moonbeams make a trail - Of gold through the waves for me, - I turn my ghostly sail - Away, away, - And follow the form I see - Over the summer sea. - - Over the misty sea, - Ere the cliff which highest soars - From the billow-beaten shores - Reddens all rosily, - Where the witch-white water roars, - Far on, far on. - Through the foam she beckons me - Over the summer sea. - - Over the haunted sea, - When the great, gold moon low lies - On the rim of the western skies, - ’Twixt the moon, she comes, and me, - And gazes in my eyes; - Low down, low down, - ’Twixt the orbéd moon and me, - Over the summer sea. - - Deep in the bitter sea, - Wilt thou drag me down, O sweet? - Down, down! from hair to feet - Filled with thee utterly? - Against thy heart’s wild beat?-- - At last! at last! - Wilt drag me down with thee, - Deep in the summer sea? - - - - - FINALE - - - So let it be. Thou dare not say ’t was I!-- - Here in life’s temple, where thy soul can see, - Look where the beauty of our love doth lie, - Shattered in shards, a dead divinity!-- - Approach: kneel down: yea, render up one sigh! - This is the end. What need to tell it thee! - So let it be. - - So let it be. Care, who hath stood with him, - And sorrow, who sat by him deified,-- - For whom his face made comfort,--lo! how dim - They heap his altar which they can not hide, - While memory’s lamp swings o’er it, burning slim.-- - This is the end. What shall be said beside? - So let it be. - - So let it be. Did we not drain the wine, - Red, of love’s sacramental chalice, when - He laid sweet sanction on thy lips and mine? - Dash it aside! Lo, who will fill again - Now it is empty of the god divine!-- - This is the end. Yea, let us say Amen. - So let it be. - - - - - - CONCLUSION - - - The songs Love sang to us are dead: - Yet shall he sing to us again, - When the dull days are wrapped in lead, - And the red woodland drips with rain. - - The lily of our love is gone, - That graced our spring with golden scent: - Now in the garden low upon - The wind-stripped way its stalk is bent. - - Our rose of dreams is passed away, - That lit our summer with sweet fire: - The storm beats bare each thorny spray, - And its dead leaves are trod in mire. - - The songs Love sang to us are dead: - Yet shall he sing to us again, - When the dull days are wrapped in lead, - And the red woodland drips with rain. - - The marigold of memory - Shall fill our autumn then with glow: - Haply its bitterness will be - Sweeter for love of long-ago. - - The cypress of forgetfulness - Shall haunt our winter with its hue: - Its apathy to us not less - Dear for the dreams love’s summer knew. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Poems of Madison Cawein, vol. 2, by -Madison Cawein - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE POEMS OF MADISON CAWEIN, VOL. 2 *** - -***** This file should be named 54902-0.txt or 54902-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/4/9/0/54902/ - -Produced by Larry B. 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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/license - - -Title: The Poems of Madison Cawein, vol. 2 - -Author: Madison Cawein - -Illustrator: Eric Pape - -Release Date: June 13, 2017 [EBook #54902] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE POEMS OF MADISON CAWEIN, VOL. 2 *** - - - - -Produced by Larry B. Harrison, Chuck Greif and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - -</pre> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="342" height="500" alt="[Image of -the book's cover unavailable.]" /> -</div> - -<p class="cb">THE POEMS OF<br /> -MADISON CAWEIN<br /><br /> -VOLUME II<br /><br />NEW WORLD IDYLLS AND<br /> -POEMS OF LOVE -</p> - -<p><a name="front" id="front"></a></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_frontis_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_frontis_sml.jpg" width="331" height="500" alt="[Image unavailable.]" /></a> -</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah, girlhood, through the rosy haze<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come like a moonbeam slipping. <span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#page_003">Page 3</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i10"><i>One Day and Another</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="bbox"> - -<h1> -THE POEMS OF<br /> -M A D I S O N C A W E I N</h1> - -<p class="c"><i>Volume II</i><br /> -<br /> -<br /> -<span class="red">NEW WORLD<br /> -IDYLLS AND POEMS<br /> -OF LOVE</span><br /> -<br /> -<br /> -<i>Illustrated</i><br /> -<small>WITH PHOTOGRAVURES AFTER PAINTINGS<br /> -BY ERIC PAPE</small><br /> -<br /> -<br /><br /> -INDIANAPOLIS<br /> -THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY<br /> -PUBLISHERS<br /> -</p> -</div> - -<div class="blockquotsml"><p class="c"><span class="smcap">Copyright</span>, 1887, 1888, 1889, 1890, 1891, 1892, 1893, 1894, 1896, -1898, 1899, 1901, 1902, 1905 and 1907, <span class="smcap">by Madison Cawein</span></p> - -<p class="c"><span class="smcap">Copyright</span>, 1896, <span class="smcap">by Copeland and Day</span>; 1898, <span class="smcap">by R. H Russell</span>; 1901, -<span class="smcap">by Richard G. Badger and Company</span></p></div> - -<p class="c"> -<span class="sans">PRESS OF<br /> -BRAUNWORTH & CO.<br /> -BOOKBINDERS AND PRINTERS<br /> -BROOKLYN, N. Y.</span><br /> -<br /><br /> -WITH ENDURING FRIENDSHIP, LOVE AND LOYALTY<br /><br /> -TO<br /><br /> -JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY<br /> -</p> - -<h3><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h3> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary=""> - -<tr><td>NEW WORLD IDYLLS</td><td class="rt"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_246"><span class="smcap">Brothers, The</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_246">246</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_241"><span class="smcap">Dead Man’s Run</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_241">241</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_196"><span class="smcap">Deep in the Forest</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_196">196</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_180"><span class="smcap">Epic of South-Fork, An</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_180">180</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_237"><span class="smcap">Feud, The</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_237">237</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_161"><span class="smcap">Idyll of the Standing-Stone, The</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_161">161</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_239"><span class="smcap">Lynchers</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_239">239</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_235"><span class="smcap">Mosby at Hamilton</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_235">235</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_192"><span class="smcap">Niello, A</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_192">192</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_001"><span class="smcap">One Day and Another</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_001">1</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_244"><span class="smcap">Raid, The</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_244">244</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_116"><span class="smcap">Red Leaves and Roses</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_116">116</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_217"><span class="smcap">Siren Sands</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_217">217</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_171"><span class="smcap">Some Summer Days</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_171">171</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_224"><span class="smcap">War-Time Silhouettes</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_224">224</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_122"><span class="smcap">Wild Thorn and Lily</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_122">122</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_209"><span class="smcap">Wreckage</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_209">209</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td> </td></tr> -<tr><td>POEMS OF LOVE</td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_482"><span class="smcap">After Death</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_482">482</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_343"><span class="smcap">Among the Acres of the Wood</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_343">343</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_519"><span class="smcap">An Autumn Night</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_519">519</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_304"><span class="smcap">Andalia and the Springtime</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_304">304</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_356"><span class="smcap">Apart</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_356">356</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_327"><span class="smcap">Apocalypse</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_327">327</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_386"><span class="smcap">At Her Grave</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_386">386</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_476"><span class="smcap">At Nineveh</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_476">476</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_509"><span class="smcap">At Parting</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_509">509</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_405"><span class="smcap">At Sunset</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_405">405</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_288"><span class="smcap">At the Stile</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_288">288</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_351"><span class="smcap">At Twenty-One</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_351">351</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_391"><span class="smcap">At Twilight</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_391">391</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_357"><span class="smcap">Blind God, The</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_357">357</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_274"><span class="smcap">Burden of Desire, The</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_274">274</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_328"><span class="smcap">Can I Forget?</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_328">328</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_358"><span class="smcap">Cara Mia</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_358">358</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_517"><span class="smcap">Carissima Mea</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_517">517</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_473"><span class="smcap">Carmen</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_473">473</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_295"><span class="smcap">Castle of Love, The</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_295">295</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_431"><span class="smcap">Caverns of Kaf, The</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_431">431</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_382"><span class="smcap">Chords</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_382">382</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_378"><span class="smcap">Christmas Catch, A</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_378">378</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_512"><span class="smcap">“Come to the Hills”</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_512">512</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_529"><span class="smcap">Conclusion</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_529">529</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_388"><span class="smcap">Confession, A</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_388">388</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_298"><span class="smcap">Consecration</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_298">298</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_362"><span class="smcap">Constance</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_362">362</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_516"><span class="smcap">Contrasts</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_516">516</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_321"><span class="smcap">Creole Serenade</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_321">321</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_414"><span class="smcap">Daughter of the Snow, The</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_414">414</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_521"><span class="smcap">Daughter of the States, A</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_521">521</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_392"><span class="smcap">Day and Night</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_392">392</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_406"><span class="smcap">Dead and Gone</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_406">406</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_261"><span class="smcap">Epilogue</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_261">261</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_513"><span class="smcap">Evasion</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_513">513</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_290"><span class="smcap">Fern-Seed</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_290">290</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_527"><span class="smcap">Finale</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_527">527</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_374"><span class="smcap">Floridian</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_374">374</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_403"><span class="smcap">Forest Pool, The</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_403">403</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_267"><span class="smcap">Gertrude</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_267">267</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_501"><span class="smcap">Glory and the Dream, The</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_501">501</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_402"><span class="smcap">Ghost Weather</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_402">402</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_278"><span class="smcap">Gypsying</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_278">278</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_395"><span class="smcap">Heart’s Desire, The</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_395">395</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_269"><span class="smcap">Heart of My Heart</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_269">269</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_365"><span class="smcap">Helen</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_365">365</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_354"><span class="smcap">Her Eyes</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_354">354</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_499"><span class="smcap">Her Vesper Song</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_499">499</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_492"><span class="smcap">Her Violin</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_492">492</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_496"><span class="smcap">Her Vivien Eyes</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_496">496</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_324"><span class="smcap">Ideal Divination</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_324">324</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_337"><span class="smcap">“If I Were Her Lover”</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_337">337</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_335"><span class="smcap">In A Garden</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_335">335</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_488"><span class="smcap">In Autumn</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_488">488</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_401"><span class="smcap">Indifference</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_401">401</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_503"><span class="smcap">In May</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_503">503</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_331"><span class="smcap">In June</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_331">331</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_511"><span class="smcap">In the Garden of Girls</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_511">511</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_352"><span class="smcap">Kinship</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_352">352</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_390"><span class="smcap">Last Days</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_390">390</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_313"><span class="smcap">Lora of the Vales</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_313">313</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_283"><span class="smcap">Lost Love</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_283">283</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_268"><span class="smcap">Love</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_268">268</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_369"><span class="smcap">Love and A Day</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_369">369</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_372"><span class="smcap">Love in A Garden</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_372">372</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_447"><span class="smcap">Lyanna</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_447">447</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_364"><span class="smcap">Lydia</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_364">364</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_486"><span class="smcap">March and May</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_486">486</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_360"><span class="smcap">Margery</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_360">360</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_469"><span class="smcap">Masks</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_469">469</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_494"><span class="smcap">Meeting in Summer</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_494">494</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_485"><span class="smcap">Memories</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_485">485</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_355"><span class="smcap">Messengers</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_355">355</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_350"><span class="smcap">Metamorphosis</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_350">350</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_367"><span class="smcap">Mignon</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_367">367</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_524"><span class="smcap">Miriam</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_524">524</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_329"><span class="smcap">My Rose</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_329">329</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_348"><span class="smcap">Nocturne</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_348">348</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_340"><span class="smcap">Noëra</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_340">340</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_483"><span class="smcap">Old Man Dreams, The</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_483">483</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_306"><span class="smcap">Olivia in the Autumn</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_306">306</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_407"><span class="smcap">One Night</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_407">407</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_317"><span class="smcap">Oriental Romance</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_317">317</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_397"><span class="smcap">Out of the Depths</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_397">397</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_285"><span class="smcap">Overseas</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_285">285</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_302"><span class="smcap">Pastoral Love</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_302">302</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_315"><span class="smcap">Pledges</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_315">315</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_292"><span class="smcap">Porphyrogenita</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_292">292</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_312"><span class="smcap">Pupil of Pan, A</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_312">312</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_522"><span class="smcap">Quarrel, The</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_522">522</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_497"><span class="smcap">Reasons</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_497">497</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_490"><span class="smcap">Reed Call for April</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_490">490</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_330"><span class="smcap">Restraint</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_330">330</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_300"><span class="smcap">Romantic Love</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_300">300</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_438"><span class="smcap">Salamander, The</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_438">438</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_479"><span class="smcap">Senorita</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_479">479</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_353"><span class="smcap">“She is so Much”</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_353">353</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_481"><span class="smcap">Since Then</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_481">481</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_346"><span class="smcap">Sirens, The</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_346">346</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_502"><span class="smcap">Snow and Fire</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_502">502</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_380"><span class="smcap">Song for Yule, A</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_380">380</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_454"><span class="smcap">Spirits of Light and Darkness, The</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_454">454</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_417"><span class="smcap">Spirit of the Star, The</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_417">417</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_423"><span class="smcap">Spirit of the Van, The</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_423">423</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_271"><span class="smcap">Strollers</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_271">271</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_464"><span class="smcap">Succuba, The</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_464">464</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_525"><span class="smcap">Summer Sea, The</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_525">525</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_308"><span class="smcap">Sylvia of the Woodland</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_308">308</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_412"><span class="smcap">The Parting</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_412">412</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_507"><span class="smcap">The Ride</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_507">507</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_276"><span class="smcap">The Tryst</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_276">276</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_399"><span class="smcap">“This is the Face of Her”</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_399">399</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_393"><span class="smcap">Three Birds</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_393">393</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_319"><span class="smcap">Tollman’s Daughter, The</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_319">319</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_368"><span class="smcap">Transubstantiation</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_368">368</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_280"><span class="smcap">Uncertainty</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_280">280</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_394"><span class="smcap">Unrequited</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_394">394</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_459"><span class="smcap">Water Witch, The</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_459">459</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_505"><span class="smcap">“Were I an Artist”</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_505">505</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_489"><span class="smcap">“When She Draws Near”</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_489">489</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_376"><span class="smcap">When Ships Put Out to Sea</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_376">376</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_347"><span class="smcap">Why?</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_347">347</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_333"><span class="smcap">Will O’ The Wisps</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_333">333</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_515"><span class="smcap">Will You Forget?</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_515">515</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_310"><span class="smcap">Witnesses</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_310">310</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="reg" valign="top"><a href="#page_345"><span class="smcap">Words</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_345">345</a></td></tr> -</table> - -<h2><a name="LIST_OF_ILLUSTRATIONS" id="LIST_OF_ILLUSTRATIONS"></a>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary=""> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#front"><span class="smcap">Ah, girlhood, through the rosy haze Come like a moonbeam slipping.</span></a> (See <a href="#page_003">page 3</a>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#front"><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td></tr> - -<tr><td> </td><td class="rt"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#where"><span class="smcap">Where the woodcock call.</span></a> (See <a href="#page_161">page 161</a>) </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">160</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#something"><span class="smcap">Something drew me, unreturning, Filled me with a finer flame.</span></a> (See <a href="#page_419">page 419</a>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">350</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#look"><span class="smcap">I look into thy heart and then I know The wondrous poetry of the long-ago.</span></a> (See <a href="#page_497">page 497</a>)</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom">490</td></tr> -</table> - -<h2><a name="NEW_WORLD_IDYLLS" id="NEW_WORLD_IDYLLS"></a>NEW WORLD IDYLLS</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza1"> -<span class="i0">O lyrist of the lowly and the true,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The song I sought for you<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still bides unsung. What hope for me to find,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lost in the dædal mind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The living utterance with lovely tongue,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To sing,—as once he sung,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rare Ariosto, of Knight-Errantry,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How you in Poesy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Song’s Paladin, Knight of the Dream and Day,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The shield of magic sway!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of that Atlantes’ power, sweet and terse,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The skyey-builded verse!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The shield that dazzles, brilliant with surprise,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our unanointed eyes.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh, could I write as it were worthy you,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Each word, a spark of dew,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As once Ferdusi wrote in Persia,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Would string each rosy spray<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of each unfolding flower of my song;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Iran’s bulbul tongue<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Would sob its heart out o’er the fountain’s slab<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In gardens of Afrasiab.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_001" id="page_001"></a>{1}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="ONE_DAY_AND_ANOTHER" id="ONE_DAY_AND_ANOTHER"></a>ONE DAY AND ANOTHER<br /><br /> -<i>A Lyrical Eclogue</i></h3> - -<h4><a name="PART_I" id="PART_I"></a>PART I<br /><br /> -LATE SPRING</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The mottled moth at eventide<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beats glimmering wings against the pane;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The slow, sweet lily opens wide,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">White in the dusk like some dim stain;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The garden dreams on every side<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And breathes faint scents of rain:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Among the flowering stocks they stand;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A crimson rose is in her hand.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>I</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>Outside her garden. He waits musing</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Herein the dearness of her is;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The thirty perfect days of June<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Made one, in maiden loveliness<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Were not more sweet to clasp and kiss,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With love not more in tune.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_002" id="page_002"></a>{2}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah me! I think she is too true,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Too spiritual for life’s rough way:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So say her eyes,—her soul looks through,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Two bluet blossoms, watchet-blue,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are not more pure than they.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So kind, so beautiful is she,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So soft and white, so fond and fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sometimes my heart fears she may be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not long for Earth, and secretly<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweet sister to the air.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>II</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>Dusk deepens. A whippoorwill calls.</i></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The whippoorwills are calling where<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The golden west is graying;<br /></span> -<span class="iq">“<span class="lftspc">’</span>Tis time,” they say, “to meet him there—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why are you still delaying?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“He waits you where the old beech throws<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its gnarly shadow over<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wood violet and the bramble rose,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Frail lady-fern and clover.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Where elder and the sumac peep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Above your garden’s paling,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_003" id="page_003"></a>{3}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whereon, at noon, the lizards sleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like lichen on the railing.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Come! ere the early rising moon’s<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gold floods the violet valleys;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where mists, like phantom picaroons<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Anchor their stealthy galleys.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Come! while the deepening amethyst<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of dusk above is falling—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Tis time to tryst! ’tis time to tryst!”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The whippoorwills are calling.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They call you to these twilight ways<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With dewy odor dripping—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah, girlhood, through the rosy haze<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come like a moonbeam slipping.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>III</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>He enters the garden, speaking dreamily</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There is a fading inward of the day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all the pansy sunset clasps one star;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The twilight acres, eastward, glimmer gray,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While all the world to westward smoulders far.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_004" id="page_004"></a>{4}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now to your glass will you pass for the last time?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pass! humming some ballad, I know.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here where I wait it is late and is past time—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Late! and the moments are slow, are slow.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There is a drawing downward of the night;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The bridegroom Heaven bends down to kiss the moon:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Above, the heights hang silver in her light;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Below, the vales stretch purple, deep with June.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There in the dew is it you hiding lawny?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You? or a moth in the vines?—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You!—by your hand! where the band twinkles tawny!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You!—by your ring, like a glow-worm that shines!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>IV</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>She approaches, laughing. She speaks</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You’d given up hope?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8"><i>He</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i10">Believe me!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_005" id="page_005"></a>{5}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8"><i>She</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Why! is your love so poor?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8"><i>He</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No. Yet you <i>might</i> deceive me!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8"><i>She</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">As many a girl before.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah, dear, you will forgive me?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8"><i>He</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Say no more, sweet, say no more!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8"><i>She</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Love trusts; and that’s enough, my dear.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Trust wins through love; whereof, my dear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love holds through trust: and love, my dear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is—all my life and lore.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8"><i>He</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Come, pay me or I’ll scold you.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Give me the kiss you owe.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You run when I would hold you?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_006" id="page_006"></a>{6}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8"><i>She</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No! no! I say! now, no!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How often have I told you,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You must not use me so?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8"><i>He</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">More sweet the dusk for this is,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For lips that meet in kisses.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come! come! why run from blisses<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As from a dreadful foe?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>V</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>She stands smiling at him, shyly, then speaks</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How many words in the asking!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How easily I can grieve you!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My “yes” in a “no” was a-masking,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor thought, dear, to deceive you.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A kiss?—the humming-bird happiness here<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In my heart consents.... But what are words,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the thought of two souls in speech accords?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Affirmative, negative—what are they, dear?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I wished to say “yes,” but somehow said “no.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_007" id="page_007"></a>{7}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">The woman within me knew you would know,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Knew that your heart would hear.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8"><i>He speaks</i>:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So many words in the doing!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Therein you could not deceive me;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some things are sweeter for the pursuing:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I knew what you meant, believe me.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bunched bells of the blush pomegranate, to fix<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At your throat.... Six drops of fire they are....<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Will you look—where the moon and its following star<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rise silvery over yon meadow ricks?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While I hold—while I bend your head back, so....<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For I know it is “yes” though you whisper “no,”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And my kisses, sweet, are six.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>VI</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>Moths flutter around them. She speaks</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Look!—where the fiery<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Glow-worm in briery<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Banks of the moon-mellowed bowers<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_008" id="page_008"></a>{8}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sparkles—how hazily<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pinioned and airily<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Delicate, warily,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Drowsily, lazily,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flutter the moths to the flowers.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">White as the dreamiest<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bud of the creamiest<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rose in the garden that dozes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">See how they cling to them!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Held in the heart of their<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hearts, like a part of their<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Perfume, they swing to them<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wings that are soft as a rose is.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Dim as the forming of<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dew in the warming of<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Moonlight, they light on the petals;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All is revealed to them;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All!—from the sunniest<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tips to the honiest<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heart, whence they yield to them<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Spice, through the darkness that settles.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So to our tremulous<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Souls come the emulous<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Agents of love; through whose power<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_009" id="page_009"></a>{9}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">All that is best in us,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All that is beautiful,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Selfless and dutiful,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is manifest in us,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Even as the scent of a flower.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>VII</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>Taking her hand he says</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What makes you beautiful?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Answer, now, answer!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is it that dutiful<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Souls are all beautiful?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is it romance or<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beauty of spirit,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which souls, that merit,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of heaven inherit?—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Have you an answer?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>She, roguishly</i>:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What makes you lovable?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Answer, now, answer!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is it not provable<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That man is lovable<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Just because chance, or<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nature, makes woman<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_010" id="page_010"></a>{10}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love him?—Her human<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Part’s to illumine.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Have you an answer?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>VIII</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>Then, regarding him seriously, she continues</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Could I recall every joy that befell me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There in the past with its anguish and bliss,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here in my heart it hath whispered to tell me,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They were no joys like this.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Were it not well if our love could forget them,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Veiling the <i>Was</i> with the dawn of the <i>Is</i>?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dead with the past we should never regret them,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Being no joys like this.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now they are gone and the Present stands speechful,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ardent of word and of look and of kiss,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What though we know that their eyes are beseechful!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They were no joys like this.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Were it not well to have more of the spirit,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Living high Futures this earthly must miss?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Less of the flesh, with the Past pining near it?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Knowing no joys like this!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_011" id="page_011"></a>{11}</span></p> - -<h5>IX</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>Leaving the garden for the lane. He, with lightness of heart</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We will leave reason,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweet, for a season:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Reason were treason<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now that the nether<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Spaces are clad, oh,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In silvery shadow—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We will be glad, oh,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Glad as this weather!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="c"><i>She, responding to his mood</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Heart unto heart! where the moonlight is slanted,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let us believe that our souls are enchanted:—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I in the castle-keep; you are the airy<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Prince who comes seeking me; love is the fairy<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bringing us two together.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="c"><i>He</i></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Starlight in masses<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Over us passes;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in the grass is<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Many a flower.—<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_012" id="page_012"></a>{12}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now will you tell me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How ’d you enspell me?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What once befell me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There in your bower?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="c"><i>She</i></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Soul unto soul!—in the moon’s wizard glory,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let us believe we are parts in a story:—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I am a poem; a poet you hear it<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whispered in star and in flower; a spirit,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love, puts my soul in your power.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>X</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>He, suddenly and very earnestly</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Perhaps we lived in the days<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the Khalif Haroun er Reshid;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And loved, as the story says<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Did the Sultan’s favorite one<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the Persian Emperor’s son,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ali ben Bekkar, he<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the Kisra dynasty.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Do you know the story?—Well,<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>You</i> were Haroun’s Sultana.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When night on the palace fell,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_013" id="page_013"></a>{13}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">A slave, through a secret door,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Low-arched on the Tigris’ shore,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By a hidden winding stair<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Brought me to your bower there.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then there was laughter and mirth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And feasting and singing together,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In a chamber of wonderful worth;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In a chamber vaulted high<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On columns of ivory;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its dome, like the irised skies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mooned over with peacock eyes;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its curtains and furniture,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Damask and juniper.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ten slave girls—so many blooms—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stand, holding tamarisk torches,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Silk-clad from the Irak looms;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ten handmaidens serve the feast,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each maid like a star in the east;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ten lutanists, lutes a-tune,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wait, each like the Ramadan moon.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For you, in a stuff of Merv<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blue-clad, unveiled and jeweled,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No metaphor made may serve:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Scarved deep with your raven hair,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_014" id="page_014"></a>{14}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">The jewels like fireflies there—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blossom and moon and star,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Lady Shemsennehar.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The zone that girdles your waist<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Would ransom a Prince and Emeer;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In your coronet’s gold enchased,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And your bracelet’s twisted bar,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Burn rubies of Istakhar;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And pearls of the Jamshid race<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hang looped on your bosom’s lace.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You stand like the letter I;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dawn-faced, with eyes that sparkle<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Black stars in a rosy sky;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mouth, like a cloven peach,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweet with your smiling speech;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cheeks, that the blood presumes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To make pomegranate blooms.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">With roses of Rocknabad,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hyacinths of Bokhara,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Creamily cool and clad<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In gauze,—girls scatter the floor<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From pillar to cedarn door.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then, a pomegranate bloom in each ear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come the dancing-girls of Kashmeer.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_015" id="page_015"></a>{15}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Kohl in their eyes, down the room,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That opaline casting-bottles<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Have showered with rose-perfume,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They glitter and drift and swoon<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the dulcimer’s languishing tune;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the liquid light like stars<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And moons and nenuphars.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Carbuncles, tragacanth-red,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Smoulder in armlet and anklet:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gleaming on breast and on head,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bangles of coins, that are angled,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tinkle: and veils, that are spangled,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flutter from coiffure and wrist<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like a star-bewildered mist.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Each dancing-girl is a flower<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the Tuba from vales of El Liwa.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How the bronzen censers glower!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And scents of ambergris pour,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And of myrrh, brought out of Lahore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And of musk of Khoten! how good<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is the scent of the sandalwood!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A lutanist smites her lute,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sings loves of Mejnoon and Leila:—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her voice is an Houri flute;—<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_016" id="page_016"></a>{16}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">While the fragrant flambeaux wave,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Barbaric, o’er free and slave,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O’er fabrics and bezels of gems<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And roses in anadems.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sherbets in ewers of gold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fruits in salvers carnelian;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flagons of grotesque mold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Made of a sapphire glass,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Brimmed with wine of Shirâz;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shaddock and melon and grape<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On plate of an antique shape.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Vases of frosted rose,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of alabaster graven,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Filled with the mountain snows;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Goblets of mother-of-pearl,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One filigree silver-swirl;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Vessels of gold foamed up<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With spray of spar on the cup.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then a slave bursts in with a cry:<br /></span> -<span class="iq">“The eunuchs! the Khalif’s eunuchs!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With scimitars bared draw nigh!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wesif and Afif and he,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Chief of the hideous three,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mesrour!—the Sultan ’s seen<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Mid a hundred weapons’ sheen!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_017" id="page_017"></a>{17}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Did we part when we heard this?—No!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It seems that my soul remembers<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How I clasped and kissed you, so....<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When they came they found us—dead,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On the flowers our blood dyed red;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our lips together, and<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The dagger in my hand.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>XI</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>She, musingly</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How it was I can not tell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For I know not where nor why;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But I know we loved too well<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In some world that does not lie<br /></span> -<span class="i0">East or west of where we dwell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And beneath no earthly sky.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Was it in the golden ages?—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or the iron?—that I heard,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the prophecy of sages,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Haply, how had come a bird,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Underneath whose wing were pages<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of an unknown lover’s word.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I forget. You may remember<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How the earthquake shook our ships;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_018" id="page_018"></a>{18}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">How our city, one huge ember,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blazed within the thick eclipse:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When you found me—deep December<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sealed my icy eyes and lips.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I forget. No one may say<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That such things can not be true:—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here a flower dies to-day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There, to-morrow, blooms anew....<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Death is silent.—Tell me, pray,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why men doubt what God can do?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>XII</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>He, with conviction</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">As to that, nothing to tell!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You being all my belief,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Doubt can not enter or dwell<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here where your image is chief;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here where your name is a spell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Potent in joy and in grief.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Is it the glamour of spring<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Working in us so we seem<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Aye to have loved? that we cling<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Even to some fancy or dream,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rainbowing everything,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here in our souls, with its gleam?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_019" id="page_019"></a>{19}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">See! how the synod is met<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There of the planets to preach us:—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Freed from the earth’s oubliette,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">See how the blossoms beseech us!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Were it not well to forget<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Winter and death as they teach us?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Dew and a bud and a star,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All,—like a beautiful thought,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Over man’s wisdom how far!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">God for some purpose hath wrought.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Could we but know why they are,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And that they end not in naught!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Stars and the moon; and they roll<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Over our way that is white.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here shall we end the long stroll?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here shall I kiss you good night?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or, for a while, soul to soul,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Linger and dream of delight?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>XIII</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>They reënter the garden. She speaks somewhat pensively</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Myths tell of walls and cities, lyred of love,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That rose to music.—Were that power my own,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_020" id="page_020"></a>{20}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had I that harp, that magic barbiton,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What had I builded for our lives thereof?—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In docile shadows under bluebell skies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A home upon the poppied edge of eve,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beneath pale peaks the splendors never leave,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Mid lemon orchards whence the egret flies.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Where, pitiless, the ruined hand of death<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Should never reach. No bud, no flower fade:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where all were perfect, pure and unafraid:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And life serener than an angel’s breath.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The days should move to music: song should tame<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The nights, attentive with their listening stars:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And morn outrival eve in opal bars,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each preaching beauty with rose-tongues of flame.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O home! O life! desired and to be!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How shall we reach you?—Far the way and dim.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Give me your hand, sweet! let us follow him,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love with the madness and the melody.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_021" id="page_021"></a>{21}</span></p> - -<h5>XIV</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>He, observing the various dowers around them</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Violets and anemones<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The surrendered Hours<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pour, as handsels, round the knees<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the Spring, who to the breeze<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flings her myriad flowers.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Like to coins, the sumptuous day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Strews with blossoms golden<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Every furlong of his way,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like a Sultan gone to pray<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At a Kaaba olden.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Warlock Night, with spark on spark,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Clad in dim attire,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dots with stars the haloed dark,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As a priest around the Ark<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lights his lamps of fire.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">These are but the cosmic strings<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the harp of Beauty,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of that instrument which sings,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In our souls, of love, that brings<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Peace and faith and duty.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_022" id="page_022"></a>{22}</span></p> - -<h5>XV</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>She, seriously</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Duty?—Comfort of the sinner<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the saint!—When grief and trial<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Weigh us, and within our inner<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Selves,—responsive to love’s viol,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hope’s soft voice grows thin and thinner.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It is kin to self-denial.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Self-denial! Through whose feeling<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We are gainer though we ’re loser;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All the finer force revealing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of our natures. No accuser<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is the conscience then, but healing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the wound of which we ’re chooser.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who the loser, who the winner,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If the ardor fail as preacher?—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">None who loved was yet beginner,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though another’s love-beseecher:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love’s revealment ’s of the inner<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Life and God Himself is teacher.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Heine said “no flower knoweth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the fragrance it revealeth;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Song, its heart that overfloweth,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_023" id="page_023"></a>{23}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Never nightingale’s heart feeleth”—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Such is love the spirit groweth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love unconscious if it healeth.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>XVI</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>He, looking smilingly into her eyes, after a pause, lightly</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">An elf there is who stables the hot<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Red wasp that sucks on the apricot;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An elf, who rowels his spiteful bay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like a mote on a ray, away, away;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An elf, who saddles the hornet lean<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And dins i’ the ear o’ the swinging bean;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who straddles, with cap cocked, all awry,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The bottle-green back o’ the dragon-fly.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And this is the elf who sips and sips<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From clover-horns whence the perfume drips;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, drunk with dew, in the glimmering gloam<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Awaits the wild-bee’s coming home;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In ambush lies where none may see,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And robs the caravan bumblebee:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gold bags of honey the bees must pay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the bandit elf of the fairy-way.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Another ouphen the butterflies know,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who paints their wings with the hues that glow<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_024" id="page_024"></a>{24}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">On blossoms: squeezing from tubes of dew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pansy colors of every hue<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On his bloom’s pied pallet, he paints the wings<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the butterflies, moths, and other things.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This is the elf that the hollyhocks hear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who dangles a brilliant in each one’s ear;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Teases at noon the pane’s green fly,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And lights at night the glow-worm’s eye.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But the dearest elf, so the poets say,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is the elf who hides in an eye of gray;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who curls in a dimple or slips along<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The strings of a lute to a lover’s song;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who smiles in her smile and frowns in her frown,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And dreams in the scent of her glove or gown;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hides and beckons, as all may note,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the bloom or the bow of a maiden’s throat.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>XVII</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>She, pensively, standing among the flowers</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Soft through the trees the night wind sighs,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And swoons and dies.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Above, the stars hang wanly white;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here, through the dark,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_025" id="page_025"></a>{25}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">A drizzled gold, the fireflies<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rain mimic stars in spark on spark.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Tis time to part, to say good night.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Good night.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">From fern to flower the night-moths cross<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At drowsy loss.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The moon drifts, veiled, through clouds of white;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And pearly pale,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In silvery blurs, through beds of moss,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their tiny moons the glow-worms trail.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Tis time to part, to say good night.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Good night.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>XVIII</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>He, at parting, as they proceed down the garden</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You say we can not marry, now<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That roses and the June are here?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To your decision I must bow.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah, well!—perhaps ’t is best, my dear.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let’s swear again each old love vow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And love another year.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Another year of love with you!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of dreams and days, of sun and rain!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_026" id="page_026"></a>{26}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">When field and forest bloom anew,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And locust clusters pelt the lane,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When all the song-birds wed and woo,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’ll not take “no” again.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oft shall I lie awake and mark<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The hours by no clanging clock,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But, in the dim and dewy dark,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Far crowing of some punctual cock;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then up, as early as the lark<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To meet you by our rock.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The rock, where first we met at tryst;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where first I wooed and won your love.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Remember how the moon and mist<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Made mystery of the heaven above<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As now to-night?—Where first I kissed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your lips, you trembling like a dove.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So, then, we will not marry now<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That roses and the June are here,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That warmth and fragrance weigh each bough?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, yet, your reason is not clear ...<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah, well! We ’ll swear anew each vow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And wait another year.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_027" id="page_027"></a>{27}</span></p> - -<h4><a name="PART_II" id="PART_II"></a>PART II<br /><br /> -EARLY SUMMER</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The cricket in the rose-bush hedge<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sings by the vine-entangled gate;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The slim moon slants a timid edge<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of pearl through one low cloud of slate;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Around dark door and window-ledge<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like dreams the shadows wait.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And through the summer dusk she goes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On her white breast a crimson rose.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>I</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>She delays, meditating. A rainy afternoon.</i></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Gray skies and a foggy rain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dripping from streaming eaves;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Over and over again<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dull drop of the trickling leaves:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the woodward-winding lane,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the hill with its shocks of sheaves<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One scarce perceives.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_028" id="page_028"></a>{28}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Shall I go in such wet weather<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By the lane or over the hill?—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the blossoming milkweed’s feather<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The diamonded rain-drops fill;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where, draggled and drenched together,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The ox-eyes rank the rill<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By the old corn-mill.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The creek by now is swollen,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And its foaming cascades sound;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the lilies, smeared with pollen,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the dam look dull and drowned.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Tis the path I oft have stolen<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the bridge; that rambles round<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With willows bound.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Through a bottom wild with berry,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And packed with the ironweeds<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And elder,—washed and very<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fragrant,—the fenced path leads<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Past oak and wilding cherry,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the tall wild-lettuce seeds,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To a place of reeds.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The sun through the sad sky bleaches—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is that a thrush that calls?—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A bird in the rain beseeches:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_029" id="page_029"></a>{29}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And see! on the balsam’s balls,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And leaves of the water-beeches—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One blister of wart-like galls—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No rain-drop falls.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My shawl instead of a bonnet!...<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Though the woods be dripping yet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through the wet to the rock I’ll run it!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How sweet to meet in the wet!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our rock with the vine upon it,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each flower a fiery jet,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where oft we ’ve met.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>II</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>They meet. He speaks</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How fresh the purple clover<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Smells in its veil of rain!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And where the leaves brim over<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How musky wild the lane!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">See, how the sodden acres,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Forlorn of all their rakers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their hay and harvest makers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Look green as spring again.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Drops from the trumpet-flowers<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rain on us as we pass;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_030" id="page_030"></a>{30}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And every zephyr showers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From tilted leaf or grass,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Clear beads of moisture, seeming<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pale, pointed emeralds gleaming;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where, through the green boughs streaming,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The daylight strikes like glass.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="c"><i>She speaks</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How dewy, clean and fragrant<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Look now the green and gold!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And breezes, trailing vagrant,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Spill all the spice they hold.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The west begins to glimmer;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And shadows, stretching slimmer,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Make gray the ways; and dimmer<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Grow field and forest old.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Beyond those rainy reaches<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of woodland, far and lone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A whippoorwill beseeches;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And now an owlet’s moan<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Drifts faint upon the hearing.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">These say the dusk is nearing.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, see, the heavens, clearing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Take on a tender tone.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_031" id="page_031"></a>{31}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How feebly chirps the cricket!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How thin the tree-toads cry!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blurred in the wild-rose thicket<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gleams wet the firefly.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This way toward home is nearest;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of weeds and briers clearest....<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We ’ll meet to-morrow, dearest;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till then, dear heart, good-by.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>III</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>They meet again under the greenwood tree. He speaks</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Here at last! And do you know<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That again you ’ve kept me waiting?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wondering, anticipating<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That your “yes” meant “no.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now you ’re here we ’ll have our day....<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let us take this daisied hollow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And beneath these beeches follow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This wild strip of way<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To the stream; wherein are seen<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stealing gar and darting minnow;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Over which snake-feeders winnow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wings of black and green.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_032" id="page_032"></a>{32}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Like a cactus flames the sun;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the mighty weaver, Even,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tenuous colored, there in heaven,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His rich weft ’s begun....<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How I love you! from the time—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You remember, do you not?—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When, within your orchard-plot,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I was reading rhyme,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">As I told you. And ’t was thus:—<br /></span> -<span class="iq">“By the blue Trinacrian sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Far in pastoral Sicily<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With Theocritus”—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">That I answered you who asked.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But the curious part was this:—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That the whole thing was amiss;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That the Greek but masked<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Tales of old Boccaccio:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tall Decameronian maids<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Strolled for me among the glades,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Smiling, sweet and slow.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And when you approached,—my book<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dropped in wonder,—seemingly<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_033" id="page_033"></a>{33}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">To myself I said, “<span class="lftspc">’</span>Tis she!”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And arose to look<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In Lauretta’s eyes and—true!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Found them yours.—You shook your head,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Laughing at me, as you said,<br /></span> -<span class="iq">“Did I frighten you?”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You had come for cherries; these<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Coatless then I climbed for while<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You still questioned with a smile,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And still tried to tease.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah, love, just two years have gone<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since then.... I remember, you<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wore a dress of billowy blue<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Muslin.—<i>Was</i> it “lawn”?—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And your apron still I see—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All its whiteness cherry-stained—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which you held; wherein I rained<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ripeness from the tree.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And I asked you—for, you know,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To my eyes your serious eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Said such deep philosophies—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If you ’d read Rousseau.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_034" id="page_034"></a>{34}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You remember how a chance,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Somewhat like to mine, one June<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Happened him at castle Toune,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Over there in France?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And a cherry dropping fair<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On your cheek, I, envying it,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cried—remembering Rousseau’s wit—<br /></span> -<span class="iq">“Would my lips were there!” ...<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Here we are at last. We ’ll row<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Down the stream.—The west has narrowed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To one streak of rose, deep-arrowed.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There ’s our skiff below.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>IV</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>Entering the skiff, she speaks</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Waters flowing dark and bright<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the sunlight or the moon,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fill my soul with such delight<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As some visible music might;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As some slow, majestic tune<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Made material to the sight.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Blossoms colored like the skies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sunset-hued and tame or wild,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fill my soul with such surmise<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_035" id="page_035"></a>{35}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">As the mind might realize<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If one’s thoughts, all undefiled,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Should take form before the eyes.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So to me do these appeal;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So they sway me every hour:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Letting all their beauty steal<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On my soul to make it feel<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through a rivulet or flower,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">More than any words reveal.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>V</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>He speaks, rowing</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">See, sweetheart, how the lilies lay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their lambent leaves about our way;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or, pollen-dusty, bob and float<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their nenuphars around our boat.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The middle of the stream is reached<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Three strokes from where our boat was beached.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Look up. You scarce can see the sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through trees that lean, dark, dense and high;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That, coiled with grape and trailing vine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Build vast a roof of shade and shine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A house of leaves, where shadows walk,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And whispering winds and waters talk.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_036" id="page_036"></a>{36}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There is no path. The saplings choke<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The trunks they spring from. There an oak,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Floods from the Alleghanies bore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lies rotting; and that sycamore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which lays its bulk from shore to shore,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Uprooted by the rain,—perchance<br /></span> -<span class="i0">May be the bridge to some romance:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its heart of punk, a spongy white,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Glows, ghostly foxfire, in the night.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now opening through a willow fringe<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The waters creep, one tawny tinge<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of sunset; and on either marge<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The cottonwoods make walls of shade,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With breezy balsam pungent: large,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The gradual hills loom; darkly fade<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The waters wherein herons wade,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or wing, like Faëry birds, from grass<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That mats the shore by which we pass.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="c"><i>She speaks</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">On we pass; we rippling pass,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On sunset waters still as glass.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A vesper-sparrow flies above,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Soft twittering, to its woodland love.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A tufted-titmouse calls afar;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And from the west, like some swift star,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_037" id="page_037"></a>{37}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">A glittering jay flies screaming. Slim<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sand-snipes and kingfishers skim<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before us; and some twilight thrush—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who may discover where such sing?—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The silence rinses with a gush<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of limpid music bubbling.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="c"><i>He speaks</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">On we pass.—Now let us oar<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To yonder strip of ragged shore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where, from a rock with lichens hoar,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A ferny spring falls, babbling frore<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through woodland mosses. Gliding by<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sulphur-colored firefly<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lights its pale lamp where mallows gloom,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And wild-bean and wild-mustard bloom.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some hunter there within the woods<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Last fall encamped, those ashes say<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And campfire boughs.—The solitudes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Grow dreamy with the death of day.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>VI</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>She sings</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Over the fields of millet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A young bird tries its wings;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And wild as a woodland rillet,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_038" id="page_038"></a>{38}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its first mad music rings rings—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Soul of my soul, where the meadows roll<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What is the song it sings?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Love, and a glad good-morrow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Heart where the rapture is!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Good-morrow, good-morrow!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Adieu to sorrow!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Here is the road to bliss:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where all day long you may hearken my song,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And kiss, kiss, kiss;”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Over the fields of clover,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the wild bee drones and sways,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wind, like a shepherd lover,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flutes on the fragrant ways—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heart of my heart, where the blossoms part,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What is the air he plays?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Love, and a song to follow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Soul with the face a-gleam!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come follow, come follow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O’er hill and through hollow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To the land o’ the bloom and beam:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where, under the flowers, you may listen for hours,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And dream, dream, dream!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_039" id="page_039"></a>{39}</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>VII</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>He speaks, letting the boat drift</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Here the shores are irised; grasses<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Clump the water gray, that glasses<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Broken wood and deepened distance.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Far the musical persistence<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of a field-lark lingers low<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the west’s rich tulip-glow.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">White before us flames one pointed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Star; and Day hath Night anointed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">King; from out her azure ewer<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pouring starry fire, truer<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than pure gold. Star-crowned he stands<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With the starlight in his hands.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Will the moon bleach through the ragged<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tree-tops ere we reach yon jagged<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rock that rises gradually,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pharos of our homeward valley?—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All the west is smouldering red;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Embers are the stars o’erhead.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">At my soul some Protean elf is:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You ’re Simætha; I am Delphis,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You are Sappho and your Phaon,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_040" id="page_040"></a>{40}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">I.—We love.—There lies our way, on,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let us say,—Æolian seas,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the violet Lesbian leas.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">On we drift. I love you. Nearer<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Looms our Island. Rosier, clearer,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Leucadian cliff we follow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the temple of Apollo<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shines—a pale and pillared fire....<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Strike, oh, strike the Lydian lyre!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Out of Hellas blows the breeze<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Singing to the Sapphic seas.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>VIII</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>Landing, he sings</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Night, night, ’t is night. The moon drifts low above us,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all its gold is tangled in the stream:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love, love, my love, and all the stars, that love us,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The stars smile down and every star ’s a dream.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In odorous purple, where the falling warble<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of water cascades and the plunged foam glows,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A columned ruin lifts its sculptured marble<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Friezed with the chiselled rebeck and the rose.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_041" id="page_041"></a>{41}</span></p> - -<p class="c"><i>She sings</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sleep, sleep, sweet sleep sleeps at the drifting tiller,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in our sail the Spirit of the Rain—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love, love, my love, ah, bid thy heart be stiller,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, hark! the music of the singing main.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What flowers are those that blow their balm unto us,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From mouths of wild aroma, each a flame?—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or is it Love that breathes? sweet Love who drew us,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who kissed our eyes and made us see the same?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="c"><i>He speaks</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Dreams; dreams we dream! no dream that we would banish!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The temple and the nightingale <i>are</i> there!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our love hath made them, nevermore to vanish,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Real as yon moon, this wild-rose in your hair.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Night, night, ’tis night!—and Love’s own star ’s before us,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its starred reflection in the starry stream.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yes, yes, ah yes! his presence shall watch o’er us,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To-night, to-night, and every night we dream.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_042" id="page_042"></a>{42}</span></p> - -<h5>IX</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>Homeward through flowers; she speaks</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Behold the offerings of the common hills!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose lowly names have made them three times dear:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One evening-primrose and an apron-full<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of violets; and there, in multitudes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dim-seen in moonlight, sweet cerulean wan,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The bluet, making heaven of every dell<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With morn’s ambrosial blue: dew-dropping plumes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the mauve beard’s-tongue; and the red-freaked cups<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of blackberry-lilies all along the creek,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where, lulled, the freckled silence sleeps, and vague<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The water flows, when, at high noon, the cows<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wade knee-deep, and the heat is honied with<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The drone of drowsy bees and dizzy flies.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How bright the moon is on that fleur-de-lis;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blue, streaked with crystal like a summer day:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And is it moonlight there? or is it flowers?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">White violets? lilies? or a daisy bed?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And now the wind, with softest lullaby,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Swings all their cradled heads and rocks-to-sleep<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_043" id="page_043"></a>{43}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their fragrant faces and their golden eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Curtained, and frailly wimpled with the dew.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Simple suggestions of a life most fair!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flowers, you speak of love and untaught faith,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose habitation is within the soul,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not of the Earth, yet for the Earth indeed....<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What is it halcyons my heart? makes calm,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With calmness not of knowledge, all my soul<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This night of nights?—Is ’t love? or faith? or both?—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The lore of all the world is less than these<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Simple suggestions of a life most fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And love most sweet that I have learned to know!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>X</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>He speaks, musingly</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yes, I have known its being so;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Long ago was I seeing so—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beckoning on to a fairer land,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Out of the flowers it waved its hand;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bidding me on to life and love,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Life with the hope of the love thereof.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_044" id="page_044"></a>{44}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What is the value of knowing it,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If you are shy in showing it?—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Need of the earth unfolds the flower,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dewy sweet, at the proper hour;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, in the world of the human heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love is the flower’s counterpart.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So when the soul is heedable,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then is the heart made readable.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I in the book of your heart have read<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Words that are truer than truth hath said:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Measures of love, the spirit’s song,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Writ of your soul to haunt me long.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Love can hear each laudable<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thought of the loved made audible,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Spoken in wonder, or joy, or pain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And reëcho it back again:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ever responsive, ever awake,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ever replying with ache for ache.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>XI</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>She speaks, dreamily</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Earth gives its flowers to us<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And heaven its stars. Indeed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>These</i> are as lips that woo us,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_045" id="page_045"></a>{45}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Those</i> are as lights that lead,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With love that doth pursue us,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With hope that still doth speed.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet shall the flowers lie riven,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And lips forget to kiss;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The stars fade out of heaven,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And lights lead us amiss—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As love for which we ’ve striven;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As hope that promises.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>XII</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>He laughs, wishing to dispel her seriousness</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If love I have had of you, you had of me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then doubtless our loving were over;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One would be less than the other, you see;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since what you returned to your lover<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Were only his own; and—<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>XIII</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>She interrupts him, speaking impetuously</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But if I lose you, if you part with me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I will not love you less<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Loving so much now. If there is to be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A parting and distress,—<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_046" id="page_046"></a>{46}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">What will avail to comfort or relieve<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The soul that’s anguished most?—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The knowledge that it once possessed, perceive,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The love that it has lost.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You must acknowledge, under sun and moon<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All that we feel is old;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let morning flutter from night’s brown cocoon<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wide wings of flaxen gold;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The moon burst through the darkness, soaring o’er,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like some great moth and white,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">These have been seen a myriad times before<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And with renewed delight.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So ’tis with love;—how old yet new it is!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This only should we heed,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To once have known, to once have felt love’s bliss,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is to be rich indeed.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whether we win or lose, we lose or win,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Within our gain or loss<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some purpose lies, some end unseen of sin,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beyond our crown or cross.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>XIV</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>Nearing her home, he speaks</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">True, true!—Perhaps it would be best<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To be that lone star in the west;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_047" id="page_047"></a>{47}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Above the earth, within the skies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet shining here in your blue eyes.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Or, haply, better here to blow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A flower beneath your window low;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That, brief of life and frail and fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Finds yet a heaven in your hair.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Or well, perhaps, to be the breeze<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That sighs its soul out to the trees;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A voice, a breath of rain or drouth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That has its wild will with your mouth.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">These things I long to be. I long<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To be the burthen of some song<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You love to sing; a melody,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sure of sweet immortality.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>XV</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>At the gate. She speaks</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sunday shall we ride together?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not the root-rough, rambling way<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through the wood we went that day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In last summer’s sultry weather.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Past the Methodist camp-meeting,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where religion helped the hymn<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_048" id="page_048"></a>{48}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gather volume; and a slim<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Minister, with textful greeting,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Welcomed us and still expounded.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From the service on the hill<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We had passed three hills and still<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Loud, though far, the singing sounded.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Nor that road through weed and berry<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Drowsy days led me and you<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the old-time barbecue,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the country-side made merry.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Dusty vehicles together;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Darkies with the horses near<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tied to trees; the atmosphere<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Redolent of bark and leather,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And of burgoo and of beef; there<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Roasting whole within the trench;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Near which spread the long pine bench<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Under shading limb and leaf there.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">As we went the homeward journey<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You exclaimed, “They intermix<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pleasure there and politics,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love and war: our modern tourney.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_049" id="page_049"></a>{49}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And the fiddles!—through the thickets,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How they thumped the old quadrille!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Scraping, droning on the hill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It was like a swarm of crickets....<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Neither road! The shady quiet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of that path by beech and birch,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Winding to the ruined church<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Near the stream that sparkles by it.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Where the silent Sundays listen<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For the preacher—Love—we bring<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In our hearts to preach and sing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Week-day shade to Sabbath glisten.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>XVI</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>He, at parting</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yes, to-morrow. Early morn.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the House of Day uncloses<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Portals that the stars adorn,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whence Light’s golden presence throws his<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flaming lilies, burning roses,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At the wide wood’s world of wall,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Spears of sparkle at each fall:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then together we will ride<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the wood’s cathedral places;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_050" id="page_050"></a>{50}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where, like prayers, the wildflowers hide,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sabbath in their fairy faces;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where, in truest, untaught phrases,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Worship in each rhythmic word,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">God is praised by many a bird.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Look above you.—Pearly white,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Star on star now crystallizes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Out of darkness: Afric night<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hangs them round her like devices<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of strange jewels. Vapor rises,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Glimmering, from each wood and dell.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till to-morrow, then, farewell.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>XVII</h5> - -<p><i>She tarries at the gate a moment, watching him disappear down the lane. -He sings, and the sound of his singing grows fainter and fainter and at -last dies away in the distance</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">Say, my heart, O my heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">These be the eves for speaking!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There is no wight will work us spite<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Beneath the sunset’s streaking.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">Yes, my sweet, O my sweet,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Now is the time for telling!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_051" id="page_051"></a>{51}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">To walk together in starry weather<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Down lanes with elder smelling.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">O my heart, yes, my heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Now is the time for saying!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When lost in dreams each wildflower seems<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And every blossom praying.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">Lean, my sweet, listen, sweet,—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">No sweeter time than this is,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So says the rose, the moth that knows,—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To take sweet toll in kisses.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_052" id="page_052"></a>{52}</span></p> - -<h4><a name="PART_III" id="PART_III"></a>PART III<br /><br /> -LATE SUMMER</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Heat lightning flickers in one cloud,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As in a flower a firefly;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some rain-drops, that the rose-bush bowed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Jar through the leaves and dimly lie:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Among the trees, now low, now loud,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The whispering breezes sigh.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The place is lone; the night is hushed;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon the path a rose lies crushed.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>I</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>Musing, he strolls among the quiet lanes by farm and field</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now rests the season in forgetfulness,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Careless in beauty of maturity;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The ripened roses round brown temples, she<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fulfils completion in a dreamy guess.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now Time grants night the more and day the less:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The gray decides; and brown,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_053" id="page_053"></a>{53}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dim golds and drabs in dulling green express<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Themselves and redden as the year goes down.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sadder the fields where, thrusting hoary high<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their tasseled heads, the Lear-like corn-stocks die,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, Falstaff-like, buff-bellied pumpkins lie.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Deeper to tenderness,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sadder the blue of hills that lounge along<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The lonesome west; sadder the song<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the wild red-bird in the leafage yellow.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Deeper and dreamier, ay!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than woods or waters, leans the languid sky<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Above lone orchards where the cider-press<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Drips and the russets mellow.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Nature grows liberal: from the beechen leaves<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The beech-nuts’ burrs their little pockets thrust,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bulged with the copper of the nuts that rust;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Above the grass the spendthrift spider weaves<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A web of silver for which dawn designs<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thrice twenty rows of pearls: beneath the oak,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That rolls old roots in many gnarly lines,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The polished acorns, from their saucers broke,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Strew oval agates.—On sonorous pines<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The far wind organs; but the forest near<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is silent; and the blue-white smoke<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_054" id="page_054"></a>{54}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of burning brush, beyond that field of hay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hangs like a pillar in the atmosphere;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But now it shakes—it breaks and all the<br /></span> -<span class="i0">vines And tree-tops tremble;—see! the wind is here!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Billowing and boisterous; and the smiling day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rejoices in its clamor. Earth and sky<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Resound with glory of its majesty,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Impetuous splendor of its rushing by.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But on those heights the forest still is still,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Expectant of its coming.... Far away<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each anxious tree upon each waiting hill<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tingles anticipation, as in gray<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Surmise of rapture. Now the first gusts play,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like laughter low, about their rippling spines;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And now the wildwood, one exultant sway,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shouts—and the light at each tumultuous pause,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The light that glooms and shines,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seems hands in wild applause.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How glows that garden! though the white mists keep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The vagabonding flowers reminded of<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Decay that comes to slay in open love,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_055" id="page_055"></a>{55}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the full moon hangs cold and night is deep;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unheeding still, their cardinal colors leap<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And laugh encircled of the scythe of death,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like lovely children he prepares to reap,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Staying his blade a breath<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To mark their beauty ere, with one last sweep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He lays them dead and turns away to weep.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let me admire,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before the sickle of the coming cold<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall mow them down,—their beauties manifold:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How like to spurts of fire<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That scarlet salvia lifts its blooms, which heap<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yon square of sunlight. And, as sparkles creep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through charring parchment, up that window’s screen<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The cypress dots with crimson all its green,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The haunt of many bees.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cascading dark those porch-built lattices,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The nightshade bleeds with berries; drops of blood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hanging in clusters, ’mid the blue monk’s-hood.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_056" id="page_056"></a>{56}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There, in that garden old,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The bright-hued clumps of zinnias unfold<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their formal flowers; and the marigold<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lifts its pinched shred of orange sunset caught<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And elfed in petals. The nasturtium,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All pungent leaved and acrid of perfume,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hangs up its goblin bonnet, fairy-brought<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From Gnomeland. There, predominant red,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And arrogant, the dahlia lifts its head,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beside the balsam’s rose-stained horns of honey,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Deep in the murmuring, sunny,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dry wildness of the weedy flower-bed;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where crickets and the weed-bugs, noon and night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shrill dirges for the flowers that soon will die,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And flowers already dead.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I seem to hear the passing Summer sigh:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A voice, that seems to weep,<br /></span> -<span class="iq">“Too soon, too soon the Beautiful passes by!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And soon, amid her bowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Will dripping Autumn mourn with all her flowers.”—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If I, perchance, might peep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beneath those leaves of podded hollyhocks,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That the bland wind with odorous whispers rocks,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_057" id="page_057"></a>{57}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">I might behold her,—white<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And weary,—Summer, ’mid her flowers asleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her drowsy flowers asleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The withered poppies knotted in her locks.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>II</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>He is reminded of another day with her</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The hips were reddening on this rose,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Those haws were hung with fire,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That day we went this way that goes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Up hills of bough and brier.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This hooked thorn caught her gown and seemed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Imploring her to linger;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon her hair a sun-ray streamed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like some baptizing finger.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">This false-foxglove, so golden now<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With yellow blooms, like bangles,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was bloomless then. But yonder bough,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sumac’s plume entangles,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was like an Indian’s painted face;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, like a squaw, attended<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That bush, in vague vermilion grace,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With beads of berries splendid.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_058" id="page_058"></a>{58}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And here we turned to mount that hill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Down which the wild brook tumbles;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, like to-day, that day was still,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And mild winds swayed the umbels<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of these wild-carrots, lawny gray:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And there, deep-dappled o’er us,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An orchard stretched; and in our way<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dropped ripened fruit before us.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">With muffled thud the pippin fell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And at our feet rolled dusty;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A hornet clinging to its bell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The pear lay bruised and rusty:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The smell of pulpy peach and plum,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From which the juice oozed yellow,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Around which bees made sleepy hum,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Made warm the air and mellow.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And then we came where, many-hued,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wet wild morning-glory<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hung its balloons in shadows dewed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For dawning’s offertory:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With bush and bramble, far away,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beneath us stretched the valley,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cleft of one creek, as clear as day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That rippled musically.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_059" id="page_059"></a>{59}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The brown, the bronze, the green, the red<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of weed and brier ran riot<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To walls of woods, whose pathways led<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To nooks of whispering quiet:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Long waves of feathering goldenrod<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ran through the gray in patches,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As in a cloud the gold of God<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Burns, that the sunset catches.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And there, above the blue hills rolled,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like some far conflagration,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sunset, flaming marigold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We watched in exultation:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then, turning homeward, she and I<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Went in love’s sweet derangement—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How different now seem earth and sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since this undreamed estrangement.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>III</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>He enters the woods. He sits down despondently</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Here where the day is dimmest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And silence company,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some might find sympathy<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For loss, or grief the grimmest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In each great-hearted tree—<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_060" id="page_060"></a>{60}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here where the day is dimmest—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But, ah, there ’s none for me!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In leaves might find communion,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Returning sigh for sigh,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For love the heavens deny;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The love that yearns for union,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet parts and knows not why.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In leaves might find communion—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But, ah, not I, not I!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My eyes with tears are aching.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why has she written me?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And will no longer see?—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My heart with grief is breaking,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With grief that this should be.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My eyes with tears are aching—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why has she written me?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>IV</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>He proceeds in the direction of a stream</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Better is death than sleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Better for tired eyes.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why do we weep and weep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When near us the solace lies?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There, in that stream, that, deep,—<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_061" id="page_061"></a>{61}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Reflecting woods and skies,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Could comfort all our sighs.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The mystery of things,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of dreams, philosophies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To which the mortal clings,<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>That</i> can unriddle these.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What is ’t the water sings?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What is ’t it promises?—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">End to my miseries!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>V</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>He seats himself on a rock and gazes steadily into the stream</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And here alone I sit and it is so!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O vales and hills! O valley-lands and knobs!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What cure have you for woe?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What balm that robs<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The brain of thought, the knowledge of its woe?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">None! none! ah me! that my sick heart may know!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wearying sameness!—yet this thing is so!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This thing is so, and still the waters flow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The leaves drop slowly down; the daylight throbs<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With sun and wind, and yet this thing is so!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_062" id="page_062"></a>{62}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">There is no sympathy in heaven or earth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For human sorrow! all we see is mirth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or madness; cruelty or lust;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nature is heedless of her children’s grief;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Man is to her no more than is a leaf,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That buds and has its summer, that is brief,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then falls, and mixes with the common dust.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here, at this culvert’s mouth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The shadowy water, flowing toward the south,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seems deepest, stagnant-stayed.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What is it yonder that makes me afraid?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of my own self afraid?—I do not know!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What power draws me to the striate stream?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What evil? or what dream?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Me! dropping pebbles in the quiet wave,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That echoes, strange as music in a cave,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hollow and thin; vibrating in the shade,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As if ’t were tears that fell, and, falling, made<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A crystal sound, a shadow wail of woe,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wrung from the rocks and waters there below;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An ailing phantom that will not be laid;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Complaining ghosts of sobs that fill my breast,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That will not forth,—and give my heart no rest.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_063" id="page_063"></a>{63}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There, in the water, how the lank sword-grass<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mats its long blades, each blade a crooked kris,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Making a marsh; ’mid which the currents miss<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their rock-born melodies.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But there and there, one sees<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wide-belled mallow, as within a glass,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Long-pistiled, leaning o’er<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The root-contorted shore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As if its own pink image it would kiss.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And there the tangled wild-potato vine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lifts beakered blossoms, each a cup of wine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As pale as moonlight is:—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No mandrake, curling convolutions up,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Loops heavier blossoms, each a conical cup<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That swoons moon-nectar and a serpent’s hiss.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And there tall gipsy lilies, all a-sway,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of coppery hue<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Streaked as with crimson dew,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mirror fierce faces in the deeps,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O’er which they lean, bent in inverted view.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And where the stream around those rushes creeps,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The dragon-fly, in endless error, keeps<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sewing the pale-gold gown of day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With tangled stitches of a burning blue:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_064" id="page_064"></a>{64}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its brilliant body is a needle fine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A thread of azure ray,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Black-pinioned, shuttling the shade and shine.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But here before me where my pensive shade<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Looks up at me, the stale stream, stagnant, lies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Deep, dark, but clear and silent; streaked with hues<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of ragweed pollen, and of spawny ooze,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through which the seeping bubbles, bursting, rise.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All flowers here refuse<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To grow or blossom; beauties, too, are few,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That haunt its depths: no glittering minnows braid<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its sleepy crystal; and no gravels strew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With colored orbs its bottom. Half afraid<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I shrink from my own eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There in its cairngorm of reflected skies.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I know not why, and yet it seems I see—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What is ’t I see there moving stealthily?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I know not what!—But where the kildees wade,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Slim in the foamy scum,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From that direction hither doth it come,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whate’er it is, that makes my soul afraid.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_065" id="page_065"></a>{65}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nearer it draws to where those low rocks ail,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Warm rocks, on which some water-snake hath clomb,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Basking its spotted body, coiling numb,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Brown in the brindled shade.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At first it seemed a prism on the grail,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A bubble’s prism, like the shadow made<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of water-striders; then a trail,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An angled sparkle in a webby veil<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of duckweed, green as verdigris, it swayed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Frog-like through deeps, to crouch, a flaccid, pale,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Squat bulk below....<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I gaze, and though I would, I can not go.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Reflected trees and skies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And breeze-blown clouds that lounge at sunny loss,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seem in its stolid eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its fishy gaze, that holds me in strange wise.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ghoul-like it seems to rise,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And now to sink; its eldritch features fail,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then come again in rhythmic waviness,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With arms like tentacles that seem to press<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thro’ weed and water: limbs that writhe and fade,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And clench, and twist, and toss,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_066" id="page_066"></a>{66}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Root-like and gnarled, and cross and inter-cross<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through flabby hair of smoky moss.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How horrible to see this thing at night!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or when the sunset slants its brimstone light<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Above the pool! when, blue, in phantom flight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The will-o’-the-wisps, perhaps, above it reel.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then, haply, would it rise, a rotting green,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Up, up, and gather me with arms of steel,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Soft steel, and drag me where the wave is white,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beneath that boulder brown, that plants a keel<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Against the ripple there, a shoulder lean.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No, no! I must away before ’tis night!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before the fireflies dot<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The dark with sulphur blurrings bright!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before, upon that height,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The white wild-carrots vanish from the sight;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And boneset blossoms, tossing there in clusters,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fade to a ridge, a streak of ghostly lustres:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, in that sunlit spot,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yon cedar tree is not!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But a huge cap instead, that, half-asleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some giant dropped while driving home his sheep:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And ’mid those fallow browns<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_067" id="page_067"></a>{67}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And russet grays, the fragrant peak<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of yonder timothy stack,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is not a stack, but something hideous, black,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That threatens and, grotesquely demon, frowns.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I must away from here.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Already dusk draws near.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The owlet’s dolorous hoot<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sounds quavering as a gnome’s wild flute;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The toad, within the wet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Begins to tune its goblin flageolet:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The slow sun sinks behind<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Those hills; and, like a withered cheek<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of Quaker quiet, sorrow-burdened, there<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The spectral moon ’s defined<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Above those trees,—as in a wild-beast’s lair<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A golden woman, dead, with golden hair,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Above that mass of fox-grape vines<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That, like a wrecked appentice, roofs those pines.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh, I am faint and weak.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I must away, away!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before the close of day!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Already at my back<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I feel the woods grow black;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sense the evening wind,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_068" id="page_068"></a>{68}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Guttural and gaunt and blind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whining behind me like an unseen wolf.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Deeper now seems the gulf<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Into whose deeps I gaze;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From which, with madness and amaze,<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>That</i> seems to rise, the horror there,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With webby hands and mossy eyes and hair.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh, will it pierce,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With all its feelers fierce,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beyond the pool’s unhallowed water-streak?—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yes; I must go, must go!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Must leave this ghastly creek,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This place of hideous fear!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For everywhere I hear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A dripping footstep near,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A voice, like water, gurgling at my ear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Saying, “Come to me! come and rest below!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sleep and forget her and with her thy woe!”—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I try to fly.—I can not.—Yes, and no!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What madness holds me!—God! that obscene, slow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sure mastering chimera there,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Perhaps, has fastened round my neck,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or in my matted hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some horrible feeler, dire, invisible!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Off, off! thou hoop of Hell!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_069" id="page_069"></a>{69}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou devil’s coil!...<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Back, back into thy cesspool! Off of me!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">See, how the waters thrash and boil!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At last! at last! thank God! my soul is free!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My mind is freed of that vile mesmerism<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That drew me to—what end? my God! what end?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Haply ’twas merely fancy, that strange fiend:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My fancy, and a prism<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of sunset in the stream, a firefly fleck,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That now, a lamp of golden fairy oil,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lights me my homeward way, the way I flee.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No more I stare, magnetic-fixed; nor reck,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor little care to foil<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The madness there! the murder there! that slips<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Back to its lair of slime, that seeps and drips,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That sought in vain to fasten on my lips.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>VI</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>Taking a letter from his pocket, he hurries away</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What can it mean for me? what have I done to her?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I, in our season of love as a sun to her:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She, all my heaven of silvery, numberless<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_070" id="page_070"></a>{70}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stars and its moon, shining golden and slumberless;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who on my life, that was thorny and lowery,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Came—and made beautiful; smiled—and made flowery.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She, to my heart and my soul a divinity!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She, who—I dreamed!—seemed my spirit-affinity!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What have I done to her? what have I done?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What can she mean by this?—what have I said to her?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I, who have idolized, worshiped, and pled to her;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sung with her, laughed with her, sorrowed and sighed for her;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lived for her only; and gladly had died for her!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">See! she has written me thus! she has written me—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sooner would dagger or serpent had smitten me!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Would you had shriveled ere ever you’d read of it,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Eyes, that are wide to the grief and the dread of it!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What have I said to her? what have I said?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_071" id="page_071"></a>{71}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">What shall I make of it? I who am trembling,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fearful of losing.—A moth, the dissembling<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flame of a taper attracts with its guttering,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flattering on till its body lies fluttering,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Scorched in the summer night.—Foolish, importunate,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why didst thou quit the cool flowers, unfortunate!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Such has she been to me, making me such to her!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Slaying me, saying I never was much to her!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What shall I make of it? what can I make?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Love, in thy everglades, moaning and motionless,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Look, I have fallen; the evil is potionless:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I, with no thought but the day that did lock us in,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Set naked feet ’mid the cottonmouth-moccasin,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Under the roses, the Cherokee, eying me:—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I,—in the heav’n with the egrets that, flying me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Winging like blooms from magnolias, rose slenderly,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pearl and pale pink: where the mocking-bird tenderly<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_072" id="page_072"></a>{72}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sang, making vistas of mosses melodious,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wandered,—unheeding my steps,—in the odious<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ooze and the venom. I followed the wiry<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Violet curve of thy star falling fiery—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So was I lost in night! thus am undone!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Have I not told to her—living alone for her—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Purposed unfoldments of deeds I had sown for her<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here in the soil of my soul? their variety<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Endless—and ever she answered with piety.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">See! it has come to this—all the tale’s suavity<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At the ninth chapter grows hateful with gravity;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cruel as death all our beautiful history—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Close it!—the final is more than a mystery.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yes; I will go to her; yes; and will speak.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>VII</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>After the final meeting; the day following</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I seem to see her still; to see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That blue-hung room. Her perfume comes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From lavender folds, draped dreamily,—<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_073" id="page_073"></a>{73}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">A-blossom with brocaded blooms,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some stuff of orient looms.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I seem to hear her speak; and back,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where sleeps the sun on books and piles<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of porcelain and bric-à-brac,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A tall clock ticks above the tiles,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where Love’s framed profile smiles.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I hear her say, “Ah, had I known!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I suffer too for what has been—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For what must be.”—A wild ache shone<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In her sad gaze that seemed to lean<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On something far, unseen.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And as in sleep my own self seems<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Outside my suffering self.—I flush<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Twixt facts and undetermined dreams,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And stand, as silent as that hush<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of lilac light and plush.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Smiling, but suffering, I feel,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beneath that face, so sweet and sad,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In those pale temples, thoughts, like steel,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pierce burningly.... I had gone mad<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had I once thought her glad.—<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_074" id="page_074"></a>{74}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Unconsciously, with eyes that yearn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To look beyond the present far,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For one faint future hope, I turn—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There, in her garden, one fierce star,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A cactus, red as war,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Vermilion as a storm-sunk sun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flames torrid splendor,—brings to life<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A sunset; memory of one<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rich eve she said she ’d be my wife;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An eve with beauty rife.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Again amid the heavy hues,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Soft crimson, seal, and satiny gold<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of flowers there, I stood ’mid dews<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With her; deep in her garden old,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While sunset’s flame unrolled.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And now!... It can not be! and yet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To see ’tis so!—In heart and brain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To know ’tis so!—While, warm and wet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I seem to smell those scents again,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Verbena scents and rain.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I turn, in hope she ’ll bid me stay.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Again her cameo beauty mark<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Set in that smile.—She turns away.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_075" id="page_075"></a>{75}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">No farewell! no regret! no spark<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of hope to cheer the dark!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">That sepia sketch—conceive it so—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A jaunty head with mouth and eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tragic beneath a rose-chapeau,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Silk-masked, unmasking—it denies<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The look we half surmise,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We know is there. ’Tis thus we read<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The true beneath the false; perceive<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The ache beneath the smile.—Indeed!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose soul unmasks?... Not mine!—I grieve,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh God!—but laugh and leave....<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>VIII</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>He walks aimlessly on</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Beyond those knotted apple-trees,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That partly hide the old brick barn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its tattered arms and tattered knees<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A scarecrow tosses to the breeze<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Among the shocks of corn.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My heart is gray as is the day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In which the rain-wind drearily<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_076" id="page_076"></a>{76}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Makes all the rusty branches sway,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in the hollows, by each way,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The dead leaves rustle wearily.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And soon we ’ll hear the far wild-geese<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Honk in frost-bitten heavens under<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Arcturus; when my walks must cease,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And by the fireside’s log-heaped peace<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I ’ll sit and nod and ponder.—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When every fall of this loud creek<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is silent with the frost; and tented<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Brown acres of the corn stretch bleak<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And shaggy with the snows, that streak<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The hillsides, hollow-dented;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I ’ll sit and dream of that glad morn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We met by banks with elder snowing;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That dusk we strolled through flower and thorn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By tasseled meads of cane and corn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To where the stream was flowing.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Again I ’ll oar our boat among<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The dripping lilies of the river,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To reach her hat, the grape-vine long<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Struck in the stream; we ’ll row to song;<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_077" id="page_077"></a>{77}</span> And then ... I ’ll wake and shiver.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Why is it that my mind reverts<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To that sweet past? while full of parting<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The present is: so full of hurts<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And heartache, that what it asserts<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Adds only to the smarting.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How often shall I sit and think<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of that sweet past! through lowered lashes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What-might-have-been trace link by link;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then watch it gradually sink<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And crumble into ashes.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Outside I ’ll hear the sad wind weep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like some lone spirit, grieved, forsaken;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then, shuddering, to bed will creep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To lie awake, or, haply, sleep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A sleep by visions shaken.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">By visions of the past, that draw<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The present in a hue that’s wanting;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A scarecrow thing of sticks and straw,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like that just now I, passing, saw,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its empty tatters flaunting.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>IX</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>He compares the present day with a past one</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The sun a splintered splendor was<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In trees, whose waving branches blurred<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_078" id="page_078"></a>{78}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its disc, that day we went together,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Mid wild-bee hum and whirring buzz<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of locusts, through the fields that purred<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With summer in the perfect weather.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So sweet it was to look, and lean<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To her young face and feel the light<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of eyes that met my own unsaddened!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her laugh that left lips more serene;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her speech that blossomed like the white<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Life-everlasting there and gladdened.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Maturing summer, you were fraught<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With more of beauty then than now<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Parades the pageant of September:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where What-is-now contrasts in thought<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With What-was-once, that bloom and bough<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Can only help me to remember.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>X</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>He pauses before a deserted house by the wayside</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Through ironweeds and roses<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And scraggy beech and oak,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Old porches it discloses<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Above the weeds and roses<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The drizzling raindrops soak.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_079" id="page_079"></a>{79}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Neglected walks a-tangle<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With dodder-strangled grass;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And every mildewed angle<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heaped with dead leaves that spangle<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The paths that round it pass.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The creatures there that bury<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or hide within its rooms<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And spidered closets—very<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dim with old webs—will hurry<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Out when the evening glooms.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Owls roost on beam and basement;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bats haunt its hearth and porch;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, by each ruined casement,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flits, in the moon’s enlacement,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wisp, like some wild torch.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There is a sense of frost here,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And winds that sigh alway<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of something that was lost here,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Long, long ago was lost here,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But what, they can not say.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My foot, perhaps, would startle<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some owl that mopes within;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some bat above its portal,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_080" id="page_080"></a>{80}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">That frights the daring mortal,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And guards its cellared sin.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The creaking road winds by it<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This side the dusty toll.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why do I stop to eye it?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My heart can not deny it—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The house is like my soul.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>XI</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>He proceeds on his way</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I bear a burden—look not therein!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Naught will you find save sorrow and sin;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sorrow and sin that wend with me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wherever I go. And misery,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A gaunt companion, my wretched bride,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Goes ever with me, side by side.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sick of myself and all the earth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I ask my soul now: Is life worth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The little pleasure that we gain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For all our sorrow and our pain?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The love, to which we gave our best,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That turns a mockery and a jest?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_081" id="page_081"></a>{81}</span></p> - -<h5>XII</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>Among the twilight fields</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The things we love, the loveliest things we cherish,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pass from us soonest, vanish utterly.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dust are our deeds, and dust our dreams that perish<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ere we can say <i>They be</i>!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I have loved man and learned we are not brothers—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Within myself, perhaps, may lie the cause;—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then set one woman high above all others,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And found her full of flaws.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Made unseen stars my keblahs of devotion;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Aspired to knowledge, and remained a clod:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With heart and soul, led on by blind emotion,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The way to failure trod.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Chance, say, or fate, that works through good and evil;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or destiny, that nothing may retard,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That to some end, above life’s empty level,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Perhaps withholds reward.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_082" id="page_082"></a>{82}</span></p> - -<h4><a name="PART_IV" id="PART_IV"></a>PART IV<br /><br /> -LATE AUTUMN</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They who die young are blest.—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Should we not envy such?—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They are Earth’s happiest,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">God-loved and favored much!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They who die young are blest.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>I</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>Sick and sad, propped with pillows, she sits at her window</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When the dog’s-tooth violet comes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With April showers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the wild-bee haunts and hums<br /></span> -<span class="i0">About the flowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We shall never wend as when<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love laughed leading us from men<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Over violet vale and glen,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the red-bird sang for hours,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And we heard the flicker drum.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_083" id="page_083"></a>{83}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now November heavens are gray:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Autumn kills<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Every joy—like leaves of May<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the rills.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here I sit and lean and listen<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To a voice that has arisen<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In my heart; with eyes that glisten<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gazing at the happy hills,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fading dark blue, far away.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>II</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>She looks down upon the dying garden</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There rank death clutches at the flowers<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And drags them down and stamps in earth.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At morn the thin, malignant hours,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shrill-voiced, among the wind-torn bowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Clamor a bitter mirth—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or is it heartbreak that, forlorn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Would so conceal itself in scorn.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">At noon the weak, white sunlight crawls,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like feeble age, once beautiful,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From mildewed walks to mildewed walls,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Down which the oozing moisture falls<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon the cold toadstool:—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Faint on the leaves it drips and creeps—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or is it tears of love who weeps?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_084" id="page_084"></a>{84}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">At night a misty blur of moon<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Slips through the trees,—pale as a face<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of melancholy marble hewn;—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, like the phantom of some tune,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Winds whisper in the place—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or is it love come back again,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seeking its perished joy in vain?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>III</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>She muses upon the past</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When, in her cloudy chiton,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Spring freed the frozen rills,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And walked in rainbowed light on<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The blossom-blowing hills;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beyond the world’s horizon,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That no such glory lies on,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And no such hues bedizen,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love led us far from ills.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When Summer came, a sickle<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stuck in her sheaf of beams,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And let the honey trickle<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From out her bee-hives’ seams;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Within the violet-blotted<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweet book to us allotted,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose lines are flower-dotted,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love read us many dreams.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_085" id="page_085"></a>{85}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then Autumn came,—a liar,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A fair-faced heretic;—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In gypsy garb of fire,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Throned on a harvest rick.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our lives, that fate had thwarted,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stood pale and broken-hearted,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though smiling when we parted,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where love to death lay sick.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now is the Winter waited,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The tyrant hoar and old,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With death and hunger mated,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who counts his crimes like gold.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Once more, before forever<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We part—once more, then never!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Once more before we sever,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Must I his face behold!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>IV</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>She takes up a book and reads</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What little things are those<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That hold our happiness!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A smile, a glance; a rose<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dropped from her hair or dress;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A word, a look, a touch,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">These are so much, so much.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_086" id="page_086"></a>{86}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">An air we can’t forget;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A sunset’s gold that gleams;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A spray of mignonette,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Will fill the soul with dreams,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">More than all history says,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or romance of old days.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For, of the human heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Not brain, is memory;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">These things it makes a part<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of its own entity;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The joys, the pains whereof<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Are the very food of love.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>V</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>She lays down the book, and sits musing</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How true! how true!—but words are weak,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In sympathy they give the soul,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To music—music, that can speak<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All the heart’s pain and dole;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All that the sad heart treasures most<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of love that ’s lost, of love that ’s lost.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I would not hear sweet music now.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My heart would break to hear it now.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_087" id="page_087"></a>{87}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So weary am I, and so fain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To see his face, to feel his kiss<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thrill rapture through my soul again!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There is no hell like this!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah, God! my God, were it not best<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To give me rest, to give me rest!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come, death, and breathe upon my brow.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweet death, come kiss my mouth and brow.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>VI</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>She writes to her lover to come to her</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Dead lie the dreams we cherished,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The dreams we loved so well;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like forest leaves they perished,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like autumn leaves they fell.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Alas! that dreams so soon should pass!<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Alas! alas!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The stream lies bleak and arid,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That once went singing on;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The flowers once that varied<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Its banks are dead and gone:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where these were once are thorns and thirst—<br /></span> -<span class="i3">The place is curst.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_088" id="page_088"></a>{88}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Come to me. I am lonely.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Forget all that occurred.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come to me; if for only<br /></span> -<span class="i2">One last, sad, parting word:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For one last word. Then let the pall<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Fall over all.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The day and hour are suited<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For what I ’d say to you<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of love that I uprooted.—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But I have suffered, too!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come to me; I would say good-by<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Before I die.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>VII</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>The wind rises; the trees are agitated</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Woods that beat the wind with frantic<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gestures and sow darkly round<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Acorns gnarled and leaves that antic<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wildly on the rustling ground,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Is it tragic grief that saddens<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through your souls this autumn day?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or the joy of death that gladdens<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In exultance of decay?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_089" id="page_089"></a>{89}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Arrogant you lift defiant<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Boughs against the moaning blast,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That, like some invisible giant,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wrapped in tumult, thunders past.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Is it that in such insurgent<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fury, tossed from tree to tree,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You would quench the fiercely urgent<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pangs of some old memory?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">As in toil and violent action,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That still help them to forget,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mortals drown the dark distraction<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And insistence of regret.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>VIII</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>She sits musing in the gathering twilight</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Last night I slept till midnight; then woke, and, far away,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A cock crowed; lonely and distant I heard a watch-dog bay:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But lonelier yet the tedious old clock ticked on to’ards day.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And what a day!—remember those morns of summer and spring,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_090" id="page_090"></a>{90}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">That bound our lives together! each morn a wedding-ring<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of dew, aroma, and sparkle, and buds and birds a-wing.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Clear morns, when I strolled my garden, awaiting him, the rose<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Expected too, with blushes,—the Giant-of-battle that grows<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A bank of radiance and fragrance, and the Maréchal-Niel that glows.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Not in vain did I wait, departed summer, amid your phlox!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Mid the powdery crystal and crimson of your hollow hollyhocks;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your fairy-bells and poppies, and the bee that in them rocks.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Cool-clad ’mid the pendulous purple of the morning-glory vine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By the jewel-mine of the pansies and the snapdragons in line,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I waited, and there he met me whose heart was one with mine.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Around us bloomed my mealy-white dusty-millers gay,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_091" id="page_091"></a>{91}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">My lady-slippers, bashful of butterfly and ray;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My gillyflowers, spicy, each one, as a day of May.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah me! when I think of the handfuls of little gold coins, amass,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My bachelor’s-buttons scattered over the garden grass,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The marigolds that boasted their bits of burning brass;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">More bitter I feel the autumn tighten on spirit and heart;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And regret those days, remembered as lost, that stand apart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A chapter holy and sacred, I read with eyes that smart.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How warm was the breath of the garden when he met me there that day!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How the burnished beetle and humming-bird flew past us, each a ray!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The memory of those meetings still bears me far away:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Again to the woods a-trysting by the water-mill I steal,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_092" id="page_092"></a>{92}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the lilies tumble together, the madcap wind at heel;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And meet him among the flowers, the rocks and the moss conceal:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Or the wild-cat gray of the meadows that the black-eyed Susans dot,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fawn-eyed and leopard-yellow, that tangle a tawny spot<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of languid panther beauty that dozes, summer-hot....<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah! back again in the present! with the winds that pinch and twist<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The leaves in their peevish passion, and whirl wherever they list;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With the autumn, hoary and nipping, whose mausolean mist<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Entombs the sun and the daylight: each morning shaggy with fog,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That fits gray wigs on the cedars, and furs with frost each log;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That velvets white the meadows, and marbles brook and bog.—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Alone at dawn—indifferent: alone at eve—I sigh:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_093" id="page_093"></a>{93}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And wait, like the wind complaining: complain and know not why:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But ailing and longing and pining because I can not die.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How dull is that sunset! dreary and cold, and hard and dead!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The ghost of those last August that, mulberry-rich and red,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wine of God’s own vintage, poured purple overhead.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But now I sit with the sighing dead dreams of a dying year;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like the fallen leaves and the acorns, am worthless and feel as sere,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With a soul that ’s sick of the body, whose heart is one big tear.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">As I stare from my window the daylight, like a bravo, its cloak puts on.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The moon, like a cautious lanthorn, glitters, and then is gone.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Will he come to-night? will he answer?—Ah, God! would it were dawn!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_094" id="page_094"></a>{94}</span></p> - -<h5>IX</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>He enters. Taking her in his arms he speaks</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They said you were dying.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You shall not die!...<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why are you crying?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why do you sigh?—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cease that sad sighing!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love, it is I.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All is forgiven!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love is not poor;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though he was driven<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Once from your door,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Back he has striven,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To part nevermore!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Will you remember<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When I forget<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Words, each an ember,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That you regret,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now in November,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now we have met?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What if love wept once!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What though you knew!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What if he crept once<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_095" id="page_095"></a>{95}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pleading to you!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>He</i> never slept once,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor was untrue.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Often forgetful,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love may forget;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Froward and fretful,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dear, he will fret;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ever regretful,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He will regret.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Life is completer<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through his control;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lifted, made sweeter,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Filled and made whole,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hearing love’s metre<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sing in the soul.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Flesh may not hear it,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Being impure;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But in the spirit,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There we are sure;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There we come near it,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There we endure.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So when to-morrow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ceases and we<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quit this we borrow,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_096" id="page_096"></a>{96}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mortality,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What chastens sorrow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So it may see?—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">(When friends are sighing;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Round one, and one<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nearer is lying,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nearer the sun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When one is dying<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all is done?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When there is weeping,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Weary and deep,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">God’s be the keeping<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of those who weep!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When our loved, sleeping,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sleep their long sleep?—)<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Love! that is dearer<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than we’re aware;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bringing us nearer,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nearer than prayer;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Being the mirror<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That our souls share.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Still you are weeping!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why do you weep?—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are tears in keeping<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_097" id="page_097"></a>{97}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">With joy so deep?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gladness so sweeping?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hearts so in keep?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Speak to me, dearest!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Say it is true!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That I am nearest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dearest to you.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Smile, with those clearest<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Eyes of gray blue.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>X</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>She smiles on him through her tears; holding his hand she speaks</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They did not say I could not live beyond this weary night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But now I know that I shall die before the morning’s light.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How weak I am!—but you ’ll forgive me when I tell you how<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I loved you—love you; and the pain it is to leave you now?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We could not wed!—Alas! the flesh, that clothes the soul of me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ordained at birth a sacrifice to this heredity,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_098" id="page_098"></a>{98}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Denied, forbade.—Ah, you have seen the bright spots in my cheeks<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Glow hectic, as before comes night the west burns blood-red streaks?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Consumption.—“But I promised you my hand?”—a thing forlorn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of life; diseased!—O God!—and so, far better so, forsworn!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh, I was jealous of your love. But think: if I had died<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ere babe of mine had come to be a solace at your side!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Had it been little then—your grief, when Heaven had made us one<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In everything that’s good on earth and then the good undone?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No! no! and had I had a child—what grief and agony<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To know <i>that</i> blight born in him, too, against all help of me!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Just when we cherished him the most, and youthful, sunny pride<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sat on his curly front, to see him die ere we had died.—<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_099" id="page_099"></a>{99}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose fault?—Ah, God!—not mine! but his, that ancestor who gave<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Escutcheon to our sorrowful house, a Death’s-head and a Grave.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Beneath the pomp of those grim arms we live and may not move;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor faith, nor truth, nor wealth avail to hurl them down, nor love!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How could I tell you this?—not then! when all the world was spun<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of morning colors for our love to walk and dance upon.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I could not tell you how disease hid here a viper germ,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Precedence slowly claiming and so slowly fixing firm.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when I broke my plighted troth and would not tell you why,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I loved you, thinking, “time enough when I have come to die.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Draw off my rings and let my hands rest so ... the wretched cough<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_100" id="page_100"></a>{100}</span> Will interrupt my feeble speech and will not be put off ...<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah, anyhow, my anodyne is this: to know that you<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are near and love me!—Kiss me now, as you were wont to do.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And tell me you forgive me all; and say you will forget<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sorrow of that breaking-off, the fever and the fret.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now set those roses near me here, and tell me death’s a lie—<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_101" id="page_101"></a>{101}</span> Once it was hard for me to live ... now it is hard to die.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4><a name="PART_V" id="PART_V"></a>PART V<br /><br /> -WINTER</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We, whom God sets a task,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Striving, who ne’er attain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We are the curst!—who ask<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Death, and still ask in vain.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We, whom God sets a task.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>I</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>In the silence of his room. After many days</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All, all are shadows. All must pass<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As writing in the sand or sea:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Reflections in a looking-glass<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are not less permanent than we.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The days that mold us—what are they?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That break us on their whirling wheel?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What but the potters! we the clay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They fashion and yet leave unreal.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_102" id="page_102"></a>{102}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Linked through the ages, one and all,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In long anthropomorphous chain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The human and the animal<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Inseparably must remain.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Within us still the monstrous shape<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That shrieked in air and howled in slime,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What are we?—partly man and ape—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The tools of fate, the toys of time!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>II</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>The bitterness of his bereavement speaks in him</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Vased in her bedroom window, white<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As her glad girlhood, never lost,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I smelt the roses—and the night<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Outside was fog and frost.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What though I claimed her dying there!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">God nor one angel understood<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor cared, who from sweet feet to hair<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had changed to snow her blood.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She had been mine so long, so long!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our harp of life was one in word—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why did death thrust his hand among<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The chords and break one chord!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_103" id="page_103"></a>{103}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What lily lilier than her face!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">More virgin than her lips I kissed!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When morn, like God, with gold and grace,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Broke massed in mist! broke massed in mist!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>III</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>Her dead face seems to rise up before him</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The face that I said farewell to,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pillowed a flower on flowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Comes back, with its eyes to tell to<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My soul what my heart should quell to<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Calm, that is mine at hours.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Dear, is your soul still daggered<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There by something amiss?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love—is <i>he</i> ever laggard?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hope—is <i>her</i> face still haggard?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tell me what it is!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You, who are done with to-morrow!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Done with these worldly skies!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Done with our pain and sorrow!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Done with the griefs we borrow!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Joys that are born of sighs!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Must we say “gone forever?”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or will it all come true?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_104" id="page_104"></a>{104}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Does mine touch your thought ever?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, over the doubts that sever,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rise to the fact that ’s you?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Love, in my flesh so fearful,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Medicine me this pain!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love, with the eyes so tearful,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How can my soul be cheerful,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seeing its joy is slain!...<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Gone!—’t was only a vision!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gone! like a thought, a gleam!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Such to our indecision<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Utter no empty mission;—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Truth is in all we dream!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>IV</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>He sinks into deep thought</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There are shadows that compel us,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There are powers that control:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">More than substance these can tell us,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Speaking to the human soul.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In the moonlight, when it glistened<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On my window, white of glow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Once I woke and, leaning, listened<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To a voice that sang below.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_105" id="page_105"></a>{105}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Full of gladness, full of yearning,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Strange with dreamy melody,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like a bird whose heart was burning,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wildly sweet it sang to me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I arose; and by the starlight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pale beneath the summer sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There I saw it, full of far light,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My dead joy go singing by.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In the darkness, when the glimmer<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the storm was on the pane,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Once I sat and heard a dimmer<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Voice lamenting in the rain.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Full of parting and unspoken<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heartbreak, faint with agony,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like a bird whose heart was broken,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Moaning low it cried to me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I arose; and in the darkness,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wan beneath the winter sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There I saw it, cold to starkness,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My dead love go wailing by.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_106" id="page_106"></a>{106}</span></p> - -<h5>V</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>He arouses from his abstraction, buries his face in his hands and -thinks</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So long it seems since last I saw her face,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So long ago it seems,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like some sad soul in unconjectured space,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still seeking happiness through perished grace<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And unrealities, a little while<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Illusions lead me, ending in the smile<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of Death, triumphant in a thorny place,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Among Love’s ruined roses and dead dreams.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Since she is gone, no more I feel the light,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since she has left all dark,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cleave, with its revelation, all the night.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I wander blindly, on a crumbling height,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Among the fragments and the wrecks and stones<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of Life, where Hope, amid Life’s skulls and bones,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With weary face, disheartened, wild and white,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Trims her pale lamp with its expiring spark.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now she is dead, the Soul, naught can o’erawe,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now she is gone from me,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Questions God’s justice that seems full of flaw,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As is His world, where misery is law,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_107" id="page_107"></a>{107}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all men fools, too willing to be slaves.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My House of Faith, built up on dust of graves,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wind of doubt sweeps down as made of straw,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all is night and I no longer see.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>VI</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>He looks from his window toward the sombre west</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ridged and bleak the gray, forsaken<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Twilight at the night has guessed;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And no star of dusk has taken<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flame unshaken in the west.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All day long the woodlands, dying,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Moaned, and drippings as of grief<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rained from barren boughs with sighing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Death of flying twig and leaf.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah, to live a life unbroken<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the flings and scorns of fate!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like that tree, with branches oaken,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Strength’s unspoken intimate.—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who can say that we have never<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lived the life of plants and trees?—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not so wide the lines that sever<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Us forever here from these.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_108" id="page_108"></a>{108}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Colors, odors, that are cherished,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Haply hint we once were flowers:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Memory alone has perished<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In this garnished world that’s ours.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Music,—that all things expresses,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All for which we’ve sought and sinned,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Haply in our treey tresses<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Once was guesses of the wind.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But I dream!—The dusk, dark braiding<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Locks that lack both moon and star,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Deepens; and, the darkness aiding,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Earth seems fading, faint and far.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And within me doubt keeps saying—<br /></span> -<span class="iq">“What is wrong, and what is right?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hear the cursing! hear the praying!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All are straying on in night.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>VII</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>He turns from the window, takes up a book, and reads</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The soul, like Earth, hath silences<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Which speak not, yet are heard:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The voices mute of memories<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Are louder than a word.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_109" id="page_109"></a>{109}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Theirs is a speech which is not speech;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A language that is bound<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To soul-vibrations, vague, that reach<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Deeper than any sound.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No words are theirs. They speak through things,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A visible utterance<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of thoughts—like those some sunset brings,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or withered rose, perchance.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The heavens that once, in purple and flame,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Spake to two hearts as one,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In after years may speak the same<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To one sad heart alone.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Through it the vanished face and eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of her, the sweet and fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of her the lost, again shall rise<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To comfort his despair.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And so the love that led him long<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From golden scene to scene,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Within the sunset is a tongue<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That speaks of what has been.—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How loud it speaks of that dead day,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The rose whose bloom is fled!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_110" id="page_110"></a>{110}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of her who died; who, clasped in clay,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lies numbered with the dead.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The dead are dead; with them ’tis well<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Within their narrow room;—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No memories haunt their hearts who dwell<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Within the grave and tomb.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But what of those—the dead who live!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The living dead, whose lot<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is still to love—ah, God forgive!—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To live and love, forgot!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>VIII</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>The storm is heard sounding wildly outside with wind and hail</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The night is wild with rain and sleet;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each loose-warped casement claps or groans:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I hear the plangent woodland beat<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The tempest with long blatant moans,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like one who fears defeat.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And sitting here beyond the storm,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Alone within the lonely house,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It seems that some mesmeric charm<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Holds all things—even the gnawing mouse<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Has ceased its faint alarm.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_111" id="page_111"></a>{111}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And in the silence, stolen o’er<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Familiar objects, lo, I fear—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I fear—that, opening yon door,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I ’ll find my dead self standing near,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With face that once I wore.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The stairway creaks with ghostly gusts:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The flue moans; all its gorgon throat<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One wail of winds: ancestral dusts,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which yonder Indian war-gear coat<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With gray, whose quiver rusts,—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Are shaken down.—Or, can it be,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That he who wore it in the dance,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or battle, now fills shadowy<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its wampumed skins? and shakes his lance<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And spectral plume at me?—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Mere fancy!—Yet those curtains toss<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mysteriously as if some dark<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hand moved them.—And I would not cross<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The shadow there, that hearthstone’s spark,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A glow-worm sunk in moss.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Outside ’t were better!—Yes, I yearn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To walk the waste where sway and dip<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Deep, dark December boughs—where burn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some late last leaves, that drip and drip<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No matter where you turn.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_112" id="page_112"></a>{112}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Where sodden soil, you scarce have trod,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fills oozy footprints—but the blind<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Night there, though like the frown of God,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Presents no fancies to the mind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like those that have o’erawed.—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The months I count: how long it seems<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since summer! summer, when with her,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When on her porch, in rainy gleams<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We watched the flickering lightning stir<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In heavens gray as dreams.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When all the west, a sheet of gold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flared,—like some Titan’s opened forge,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With storm; revealing, manifold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Vast peaks of clouds with crag and gorge,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where thunder-torrents rolled.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then came the wind: again, again<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Storm lit the instant earth—and how<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The forest rang with roaring rain!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We could not read—where is it now?—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That tale of Charlemagne:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">That old romance! that tale, which we<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Were reading; till we heard the plunge<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of distant thunder sullenly,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And left to watch the lightning lunge,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And storm-winds toss each tree.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_113" id="page_113"></a>{113}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">That summer!—How it built us there,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of sorcery and necromance,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A mental-world, where all was fair;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A land like one great pearl, a-trance<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With lilied light and air.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Where every flower was a thought;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And every bird, a melody;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And every fragrance, zephyr brought,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was but the rainbowed drapery<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of some sweet dream long sought.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">’Mid which we reared our heart’s high home,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fair on the hills; with terraces,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Vine-hung and wooded, o’er the foam<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of undiscovered fairy seas,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All violet in the gloam.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O land of shadows! shadow-home,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Within my world of memories!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Around whose ruins sweeps the foam<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of sorrow’s immemorial seas,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To whose dark shores I come!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How long in your wrecked halls, alone<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With ghosts of joys must I remain?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Between the unknown and the known,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still hearing through the wind and rain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My lost love moan and moan.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_114" id="page_114"></a>{114}</span></p> - -<h5>IX</h5> - -<p class="c"><i>He sits by the slowly dying fire. The storm is heard with increased -violence</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Wild weather. The lash of the sleet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On the gusty casement, clapping—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sound of the storm like a sheet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My soul and senses wrapping.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Wild weather. And how is she,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now the rush of the rain falls serried<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There on the turf and the tree<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the place where she is buried?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Wild weather. How black and deep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is the night where the mad winds scurry!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Do I sleep? do I dream in my sleep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That I hear her footsteps hurry?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hither they come like flowers—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I see her raiment glisten,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like the robes of one of the hours<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the stars to the angels listen.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Before me, behold, how she stands!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With lips high thoughts have weighted,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With testifying hands,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And eyes with glory sated.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_115" id="page_115"></a>{115}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I have spoken and I have kneeled:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I have kissed her feet in wonder—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But, lo! her lips—they are sealed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">God-sealed, and will not sunder.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Though I sob, “Your stay was long!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You are come,—but your feet were laggard!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With mansuetude and song<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For the heart your death has daggered.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Never a word replies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Never, to all my weeping—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Only a sound of sighs,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And of raiment past me sweeping....<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I wake; and a clock tolls three—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the night and the storm beat serried<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There on the turf and the tree<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the place where she is buried.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_116" id="page_116"></a>{116}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="RED_LEAVES_AND_ROSES" id="RED_LEAVES_AND_ROSES"></a>RED LEAVES AND ROSES</h3> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And he had lived such loveless years<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That suffering had made him wise;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And she had known no graver tears<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Than those of girlhood’s eyes.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And he, perhaps, had loved before—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">One, who had wedded, or had died;—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So life to him had been but poor<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In love for which he sighed.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In years and heart she was so young<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Love paused and beckoned at the gate,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And bade her hear his songs, unsung;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She laughed that “love must wait.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He understood. She only knew<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Love’s hair was faded, face was gray—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor saw the rose his autumn blew<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There in her heedless way.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_117" id="page_117"></a>{117}</span></p> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If he had come to her when May<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Danced down the wildwood,—every way<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Marked with white flow’rs, as if her gown<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Had torn and fallen,—it might be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She had not met him with a frown,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor used his love so bitterly.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Or if he had but come when June<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Set stars and roses to one tune,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And breathed in honeysuckle throats<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Clove-honey of her spicy mouth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His heart had found some loving notes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In hers to cheer his life’s long drouth.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He came when Fall made mad the sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And on the hills leapt like a cry<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of battle; when his youth was dead;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To <i>her</i>, the young, the wild, the white;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose symbol was the rose, blood-red,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And his the red leaf pinched with blight.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He might have known, since youth was flown,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And autumn claimed him for its own;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And winter neared with snow, wild whirled,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His love to her would seem absurd;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To youth like hers; whose lip had curled<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yet heard him to his last sad word.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_118" id="page_118"></a>{118}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then laughed and—well, his heart denied<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The words he uttered then in pride;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And he remembered how the gray<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Was his of autumn, ah! and hers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The rose-hued colors of the May,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And May was all her universe.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And then he left her: and, like blood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In her deep hair, the rose; whose bud<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was badge to her: while unto him,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His middle-age, must still remain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The red-leaf, withering at the rim,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As symbol of the all-in-vain.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>III</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Such days as these,” she said, and bent<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Among her marigolds, all dew,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And dripping zinnia stems, “were meant<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For spring not autumn; days we knew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In childhood; <i>these</i> endearing those;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Much dearer since they have grown old:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Days, once imperfect with the rose,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Now perfect with the marigold.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Such days as these,” he said, and gazed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Long with unlifted eyes that held<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_119" id="page_119"></a>{119}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sad autumn nights, “our hopes have raised<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In futures that are mist-enspelled.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And so it is the fog blows in<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Days dearer for the death they paint<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With hues of life and joy,—as sin,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">At death, puts off all earthly taint.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>IV</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Like deeds of hearts that have not kept<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Their riches, as a miser, when<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sad souls have asked, with eyes that wept,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Among the toiling tribes of men,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The summer days gave Earth sweet alms<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In silver of white lilies, while<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each night, with healing, outstretched palms<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Stood Christ-like with its starry smile.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Will she remember him when dull<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Months drag their duller hours by?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With feet that crush the beautiful<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And leave the beautiful to die?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or never see? nor sit with lost<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dreams withered, ’mid hope’s empty husks,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And wait, heart-counting-up the cost<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of love’s illusions ’mid life’s dusks?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_120" id="page_120"></a>{120}</span></p> - -<h4>V</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He is as one who, treading salty scurf<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of lonely sea-sands, hears the roaring rocks<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of some lost isle of misty crags and lochs;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who sees no sea, but, through a world of surf,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Gray ghosts of gulls and screaming petrel flocks:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When, from the deep’s white ruin and wild wreck,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Above the fog, beneath the ghostly gull,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The iron ribs of some storm-shattered hull<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Loom, packed with pirate treasure to the deck<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A century rotten: feels his wealth replete,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When long-baulked ocean claims it; and one dull<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wave flings, derisive at despondent feet,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A skull, one doubloon rattling in the skull.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>VI</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And when full autumn sets the dahlia stems<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On fire with flowers, and the chill dew turns<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The maple trees, above geranium urns,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To Emir tents, and strings with flawless gems<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The moon-flower and the wahoo-bush that burns;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Calmly she sees the year grow sad and strange,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_121" id="page_121"></a>{121}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i2">And stands with one among the wilted walks<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the old garden of the gray, old grange,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And feels no sorrow for the frost-maimed stalks<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Since—though the wailing autumn to her talks—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Youth marks swift spring on life’s far mountain-range.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or she will lean to her old harpsichord;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A youthful face beside her; and the glow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of hickory on the hearth will balk the blow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of blustering rain that beats the casement hard;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And sing of summer and so thwart the snow.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Haply, some day, she yet may sit alone,”<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He thinks, “within the shadow-saddened house,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When round the gables stormy echoes moan,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And in the closet gnaws the lonesome mouse;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Memory come stealing down the stair<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From dusty attics where is piled the Past—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like so much rubbish that we hate to keep—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And turn the knob; and, framed in frosty hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A grave, forgotten face look in at last,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And she will know, and bow her head and weep.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_122" id="page_122"></a>{122}</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><a name="WILD_THORN_AND_LILY" id="WILD_THORN_AND_LILY"></a>WILD THORN AND LILY</h3> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">That night, returning to the farm, we rode<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before a storm. Uprolling from the west,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Incessant with distending fire, loomed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The multitudes of tempest: towering here<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A shadowy Shasta, there a cloudy Hood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Veined as with agonies, aurora-born,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of torrent gold; resplendent heaven to heaven,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Far peak to peak, terrific spoke; the vast<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sierras of the storm, within which beat<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The caverned thunder like a mighty stream:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Vibrating on, with rushing wind and flame,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now th’ opening welkin shone, one livid sheet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of instantaneous gold, a giant’s forge,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wild-clanging; now, with streak on angled streak<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of momentary light, a labyrinth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where shouting Darkness stalked with Titan torch:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Again the firmament hung hewn with fire<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_123" id="page_123"></a>{123}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whence leapt the thunder; and it seemed that hosts<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of Heaven rushed to war with blazing shields<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And swords of splendor. And before the storm<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We galloped, while the frantic trees above<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Went wild with rain, through whose mad limbs and leaves<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Splashed black the first big drops. On, on we drove,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And gained the gates, pillaring the avenue<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of ancient beech, at whose far, flickering end,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At last, beaconed the lights of home.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i14">And she?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was it the lightning that lent lividness<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And terror to her countenance? or fear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of her own heart? revulsion? memory?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Did deep regret, that, now the thing <i>was</i> done,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That she was mine, a yearning to be free,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Away from me, assail her? or, the thought,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The knowledge, that she did not love the man<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whom she had wedded? knowing better now<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That all her heart was Julien’s from the first,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And would be Julien’s until the end.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And did she now look backward on the past?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or forward—on the barrier that the church<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_124" id="page_124"></a>{124}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">For all the future years had placed between<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The possible and impossible? God knows!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet I had won her honestly with words<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love, only, uttered out of its soul’s truth;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had won her—was it openly?—perhaps!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Although engaged to Julien.—What else<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had led us to elopement?—Well, ’t was done!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The whole, mad, lovely, miserable affair<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of love and youthful folly. Being done<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We must abide the reckoning. That is,<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>I</i> would; and she?—she saw her duty there<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beside her husband. And within myself,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When we alighted from the carriage, thus,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beneath the porch,—my mind resolved the thing:<br /></span> -<span class="iq">“I am her husband now, and she my wife.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Less than her husband, I, much less a man,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Were I not able to regain and keep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The love she gave me, that she thinks is his,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That is not his. ’T is pity merely now<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That makes her pensive. I am pensive, too,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For Julien, the poet and the friend;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The dreamer and the lover.—But all ’s fair<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In love they say; and I,—well, willingly<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’ll bear the burthen of the blame of all.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_125" id="page_125"></a>{125}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Scarce had we entered when high heaven oped<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Vast gates of bronze and doors of booming brass<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That dammed a deluge, and the deluge poured.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I thought of him still; for I felt that she<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was thinking too of Julien and his moods,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That often swept his soul with storm like this,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet oftener with sunlight than with storm;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That soul of sun and tempest, ray and rain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My school-friend Julien! whom once she won<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To think she loved—I know not how. My play<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was open as the morning, and as fair.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His poverty and genius here, and here<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My wealth and—platitude; and I had won.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But it was hard for him. I did not dream<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That it would end so. And when Gwendolyn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Used every gentleness—and that is much—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I did not dream his poet’s temperament<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Were so affected of a love affair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A wrong or right; he, whose sole aim seemed song.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I did not dream he ’d take it desperately,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And end so tragically. Who ’d have thought<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His character, although so sensitive,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Would fall into extremes of morbidness<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_126" id="page_126"></a>{126}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And melancholy! Had it now been I,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose heart had lost in the great game of love,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">None would have wondered; for I am of those<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose vigorous iron does not bend, but break<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At one decisive blow: <i>his</i> should have sprung—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or so I think, not broken as it had—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Elastic as fine-tempered steel that bends<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And then resumes its usual usefulness.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A pale smile strained the corners of her mouth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When, from the porch, into the parlor’s blaze<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I led her. And her mother met us there,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her mother and her father. And I saw<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The slow reflection of their happiness<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Make glad her eyes, as their approval grew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From half-severe rebukes, that were well meant,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To open, glad avowal of their joy.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She had done well, and we were soon forgiven....<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But I resumed <i>his</i> letter when alone:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His letter written her three months before,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When all was over, and we two were one,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And well upon our way to Italy<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_127" id="page_127"></a>{127}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">For six sweet months of honeymoon. His word,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His letter, all of her, that came to me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At Venice, that I opened in mistake,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Amid a lot of papers sent from home.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She had not read, and never should while I<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had power to conceal until I ’d read.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I would not let the dead scrawl mar or soil<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My late-won joy, my testament of love.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No! I would read it, afterwards destroy.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thoughts made of music for a last farewell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When he knew all and asked her to perpend<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Expressions of past things her gift of love<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had given speech to in the happy days.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And so I read:—<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">“The rhyme is mine, but yours<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The thought and all the music, springing from<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The rareness of the love that dawned on me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A little while to make my sad life glad.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Should I regret the sunset it refused,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since all my morn was richer than the world?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or that my day should stride without a change<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of crimson, or of purple, or of gold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Into the barren blackness where the moon<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_128" id="page_128"></a>{128}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all God’s stars lay dead? Should I complain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upbraid or censure or one moment curse,<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>I</i> with my morning? ’T is a memory<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That stains the midnight now: one wild-rose ray<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Laid like a finger pointing me the path<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I follow, and I go rejoicingly.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Our love was very young (nor had it aged—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If we had lived long lifetimes—here in me),<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When one day, strolling in the sun, you spoke<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Words I perceived should hint a coming change:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I made three stanzas of the thought, you see:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But now ’t is like the sea-shell that suggests,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And still associates us with the sea<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In its vague song and elfland workmanship.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet it has lost a something that it had<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There by the far sand’s foaming; something rare,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A different beauty like an element:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">I wonder on what life will do<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When love is loser of all love;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When life still longs to love anew<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And has not love enough:—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I ’ll turn my heart into a ray,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And wait—a day?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">I wonder on what love will hold<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When life is weary of all life;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_129" id="page_129"></a>{129}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i2">And life and love have both grown old<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With scars of sin and strife:—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I’ll change my soul into a flower,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And wait—an hour?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">I wonder on why men forget<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The life that love made laugh; and why<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Weak women will remember yet<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The life that love made sigh:—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I’ll sing my thought into a song,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And wait—how long?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>III</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“And once you questioned of our mocking-bird,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And of the German nightingale, and I<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Knowing a sweeter bird than those sweet two,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Made fast associates of birds and brooks<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And learned their numbers. Middle April made<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The path of lilac leading to your porch<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A rift of fallen Paradise; a blue<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So full of fragrance that the birds that built<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Among the lilacs thought that God was there,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And of God’s goodness they would sing and sing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till every throat seemed bursting with its song,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_130" id="page_130"></a>{130}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Note on wild note, diviner each than each.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And waiting by the gate, that reached the lane,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For you, who gave sweet eloquence to all,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The afternoon, the lilacs and the spring,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My heart was singing and it sang of you:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Two glow-worms are the jewels in<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her ears; and underneath her chin<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A diamond like a firefly:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There is no starlight in the sky<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When Gwendolyn stands in the maze<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of woodbine, near the portico;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For all the stars are in her gaze,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The night and stars I know.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A clinging dream of mist the lawn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She wears; and like a bit of dawn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her fan with one red jewel pinned:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Among the boughs there breathes no wind<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When Gwendolyn comes down the path<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of lilacs from the portico;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For all the breeze her coming hath,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The beam and breeze I know.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Two locust-blooms her hands; and slips<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of eglantine her cheeks and lips;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her hair, a hyacinth of gloom:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_131" id="page_131"></a>{131}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">The balmy buds give no perfume<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When Gwendolyn draws near to me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The gate beyond the portico;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For all aroma sweet is she,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All fragrance that I know.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Life, love, and faith are in her face,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in her presence all their grace:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And my religion is a word,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A wish of hers. No mocking-bird,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When Gwendolyn laughs near, dare float<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One bubble from the portico;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For all of song is in her throat,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All music that I know.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>IV</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“The mocking-bird! and then weird fancy filled<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My soul with vision, and I saw a song<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pursue a bird that was no bird—a voice<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Concealed in dim expressions of the spring,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who sits among the forests and the fields,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With dark-blue eyes smiling to life the flowers,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where we strolled happy as the April hills:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A sunbeam, all the day that fell<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Upon the fountain,—<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_132" id="page_132"></a>{132}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like laughter gurgling in the dell<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Below the mountain,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Drank, with its sparkle, one by one,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The water-words that, in the sun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Made melody,—the sun-rays tell,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That never yet was done.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A moon-ray, that had gone astray<br /></span> -<span class="i2">’Mid wildwood alleys,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where Echo haunts the forest way<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Among the valleys,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The livelong night upon the rocks<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Slept, hid among girl Echo’s locks,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And stole her voice,—the moonbeams say,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That mocks and only mocks.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A shadow, that had made its seat<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Amid the roses<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And thorns—the bitter and the sweet<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That life discloses—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mixed with the rose-balm and the dew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And crimson thorns that pierced it through,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Until its soul,—the shades repeat,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Was portion of them, too.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A Fairy found the beam of gold,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And ray of glitter;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_133" id="page_133"></a>{133}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">The shadow, whose dim soul did hold<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Both sweet and bitter;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And made a bird, that haunts the morn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And night; that flits from flower to thorn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A voice of laughter,—it is told,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Love, mockery, and scorn.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>V</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Among the white haw-blossoms, where the creek<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Droned under drifts of dogwood and of haw,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The red-bird, like a crimson blossom blown<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Against the snow-white bosom of the Spring,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The chaste confusion of her lawny breast,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sang on, prophetic of serener days,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As confident as June’s completer hours.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I stood listening like a hind, who hears<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A wood-nymph breathing in a forest flute<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Among gray beech-trees of myth-haunted ways:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when it ceased, the memory of the air<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blew like a syrinx in my brain: I made<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A lyric of the notes that men might know:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">He flies with flirt and fluting—<br /></span> -<span class="i3">As flies a falling star<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_134" id="page_134"></a>{134}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i2">From flaming star-beds shooting shooting—<br /></span> -<span class="i3">From where the roses are.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Wings past and sings; and seven<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Notes, sweet as fragrance is,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That turn to sylphs in heaven,—<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Float round him full of bliss.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">He sings; each burning feather<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Thrills, throbbing at his throat;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A song of glow-worm weather,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And of a firefly boat:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Of Elfland and a princess<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Who, born of a perfume,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His music lulls,—where winces<br /></span> -<span class="i3">That rose’s cradled bloom.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">No bird is half so airy,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">No bird of dusk or dawn,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O masking King of Fairy!<br /></span> -<span class="i3">O red-crowned Oberon.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>VI</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Alas! the nightingale I never heard.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet I, remembering how your voice would thrill<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Me with exalted expectation, felt<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_135" id="page_135"></a>{135}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">The passion-throated nightingale would win<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Into my soul in some wild way like this,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With reminiscences of dusks long dead,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Presentiments of nights, that mate the flowers<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the prompt stars, and marry them with song.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of such,—love whispered me when deep in dreams,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I made my nightingale. It is a voice<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heard in the April of our year of love:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Between the stars and roses<br /></span> -<span class="i4">There lies a path no man may see,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where every breeze that blows is<br /></span> -<span class="i4">A wandering melody;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Down which each bright star gazes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Upon each rose that raises<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Its face up lovingly,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As if with prayers and praises.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">The star and rose are wiser<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Than all but love beneath the skies;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No hoard of any miser<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Is rich as these are wise:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No bee may reach or rifle,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No mist may cloud or stifle<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Their love that never dies,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That knows nor trick nor trifle.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_136" id="page_136"></a>{136}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">There is a bird that carries<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Love-messages; and comes and goes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Between each star that tarries,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And every rose that blows:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A bird that can not tire,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whose throat ’s a throbbing lyre,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Whose song is now a rose,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And now a starry fire.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>VII</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“O May-time woods! O May-time lanes and hours!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And stars, that knew how often there at night<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beside the path, where woodbine odors blew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Between the drowsy eyelids of the dusk,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When, like a great, white, pearly moth, the moon<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hung, silvering long windows of your room,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I stood among the shrubs! The dark house slept.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I watched and waited for—I know not what—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some tremor of your gown: a velvet leaf’s<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unfolding to caresses of the spring:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A rustle of your footsteps: or the dew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That softly rolled, a syllable of love,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_137" id="page_137"></a>{137}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">In sweet avowal, from a rose’s lips<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of odorous scarlet: or the whispered word<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of something lovelier than new leaf or rose—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The word young lips half murmur in a dream:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Serene with sleep, light visions load her eyes;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And underneath her window blooms a quince.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The night is a sultana who doth rise<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In slippered caution, to admit a prince,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love, who her eunuchs and her lord defies.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Are these her dreams? or is it that the breeze<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Pelts me with petals of the quince, and lifts<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Balm-of-Gilead buds? and seems to squeeze<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Aroma on aroma through sweet rifts<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of Eden, dripping from the rainy trees?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Along the path the buckeye trees begin<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To heap their hills of blossoms.—Oh, that they<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Were Romeo ladders, whereby I might win<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her chamber’s sanctity,—where love must pray<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And guard her soul!—so stainless of all sin!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_138" id="page_138"></a>{138}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There might I see the balsam scent erase<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Its sweet intrusion; and the starry night<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Conclude majestic pomp; the virgin grace<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of every bud abashed before the white,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pure passion-flower of her sleeping face.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>VIII</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“And once, in early May, a sparrow sang<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Among the garden bushes; and you asked<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If the suave song stayed knocking at my heart.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I smiled some answer, and, behold, that night<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Found that my heart had locked this fancy in:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Rain, rain, and a ribbon of song<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Uncurled where the blossoms are sprinkled;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The song-sparrow sings, and I long<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For, the silver-sweet throat, that has tinkled,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To sing in the bloom and the rain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sing again, and again, and again,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Under my window-pane.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Rain, rain, and the trickling tips<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the million pink blooms of the quinces;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I hear the song rill from the lips,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The lute-haunted lips of my princess:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O love! in the rain and the bloom,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_139" id="page_139"></a>{139}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sing again in the pelting perfume,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sweetheart, under my room.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Rain, rain, and the dripping of drops<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From cups of the blossoms they load, or<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tilt over with tipsiest tops:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And eyes as of sun-beam and odor,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There, under the bloom-blowing tree—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A face like a flower to see,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Love is looking at me.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>IX</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Once in the village I had heard a song,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A melody which I wrote down for you,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And which you sang. But, there among your hills,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The dawns and sunsets and the serious stars<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Made trite its thought and words, that seemed as stale<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As musty parlors of the commonplace.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I changed its words, and here and there its thought,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But, though you praised, you never sang it more,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And so I knew, like some poor poet, it<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had fallen on disfavor, God knows why,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With its high patron. Thus its metre ran:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_140" id="page_140"></a>{140}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Look, happy eyes, and let me know<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The timid flower her love hath cherished<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fades not before the fruit shall show,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seen in the clear truth of your glow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where naught of love hath perished.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Lift, happy lips, and let me take<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The sacred secret of her spirit<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To mine in kisses, that shall make<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mute marriage of our souls, and wake<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The heart’s sweet silence near it.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>X</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“And so I wrote another filled with birds,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Deliberate twilight and eve’s punctual star;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And made the music of that song obey<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The metre of my own and melody:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Only to hear that you love me,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Only to feel it is true;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Stars and the gloaming above me,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I in the gloaming with you.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Staining through violet fire,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">A sunset of poppy and gold,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Red as a heart with desire,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Rich with a secret untold.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_141" id="page_141"></a>{141}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Deep where the shadows are doubled,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Deep where the blossoms are long,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Listen!—deep love in the bubbled<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Breath of a mocking-bird’s song.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">You, who have made them the dearer,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Drawing them near from afar!—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Stars and the heaven the nearer,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Sweet, through the joy that you are.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>XI</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Confronted with the certainty that I<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had no approval for my love from you,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No visible sign, but my own prompting hope’s,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Conforming with my heart’s one wild desire,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who had not dreaded disappointment there!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The shadow of a heart’s unformed denial,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That should take form and soon confirm the doubt:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The doubt that would content itself with this:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">If I might hold her by the hand,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her hands so full of soothing peace!—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her heart would hear and understand<br /></span> -<span class="i4">My heart’s demand,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And all her idling cease.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_142" id="page_142"></a>{142}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">If she would let my eyes look in<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her eyes, whose deeps are full of truth,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her soul might see how mine would win<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Her, without sin,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In all her happy youth.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">If I might kiss her mouth, and lead<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The kiss up to her eyes and hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There is no prayer that so could plead,—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And find sure heed,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My love’s divine despair.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>XII</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“And, uninstructed, smiled and wrote ‘despair,’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Enamoured, yet fearful of the shade that should<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some day come stealing through my silent door<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To sit unbidden through the lonely hours.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I cast the shudder off, and in the fields<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Found hope again, and beauty born of dreams:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For it was summer, and all living things,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The common flowers and the birds and bees,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Became interpreters of love for me:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Say that he can not tell her how he loves her—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Words, for such adoration, often fail,—<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_143" id="page_143"></a>{143}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">When but a bow of ribbon, glove that gloves her,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Clothes her fair femininity in mail.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So many ways and wisdoms to express what<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To th’ language of devotion is denied;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ambassadors to make the maiden guess what<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Before her heart’s high fortress long has sighed.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A bird to sing his secret—she’ll perpend him:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A bee to bid her soul to hear and see:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A blossom, like a sweet appeal, to bend him,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Before her there, upon a worshiping knee.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>XIII</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“So was my love confessed to you. I thought<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You loved me as love led me to believe:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And so, no matter where I, dreaming, went<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Among the hills, the woods, and quiet fields,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All had a poetry so intimate,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So happy and so ready that, for me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Twas but to stoop and gather as I went,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As one goes reaching roses in the June.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Three withered wild ones that I gathered then<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I send you now. Their scent and bloom are dust:<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_144" id="page_144"></a>{144}</span></p> - -<h5>1</h5> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What wild-flower shows perfection<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Such as thy face, no blemish mars?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I leave to the selection<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of all the wild-flower stars:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To every wildwood bloom that blows,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wild phlox, wild daisy, and wild rose.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What cascade hath suspicion<br /></span> -<span class="i1">O’ the marvel that thy whiteness is?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I leave to the decision<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Of each proclaiming breeze:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To winds that kiss the buds awake,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And roll the ripple on the lake.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What bird can sing the naming<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Of all the music that thou art?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I leave to the proclaiming<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Of that within my heart:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My heart, wherein, the whole day long,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sits adoration rapt in song.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h5>2</h5> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What witch then hast thou met,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who wrought this amulet?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This charm, that makes each look, love,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of thine a rose;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_145" id="page_145"></a>{145}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy face an open book, love,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where beauty gleams and glows,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And thought to music set.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What fairy of the wood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To whom thou once wast good,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gave thee this gift?—Thy words, love,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Should be pure gold;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all thy songs as bird’s, love,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sweet as the Mays of old<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With youth and love imbued.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What elfin of the glade<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This white enchantment made,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That filled thee with the essence<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of all the Junes?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That made thy soul, thy presence,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like to the moon’s<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Above a far cascade.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What wizard of the cave<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hath made my heart thy slave?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That dreams of thee when sleeping,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And, when awake,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My anxious spirit keeping<br /></span> -<span class="i2">’Neath spells I can not break,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweet spells, whence naught can save.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_146" id="page_146"></a>{146}</span></p> - -<h5>3</h5> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Dear, (though given conclusion to),<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Songs,—no memory surrenders,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still their music breathe in you;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Silence meditation renders<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Audible with notes it knew.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sweet, when all the flowers are dead,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Perfumes,—that the heart remembers<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Made of them a marriage-bed,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shall not fail me in December’s<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gloom, but from your face be shed.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Dear, when night denies a star,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Darkness will not suffer, seeing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Song and fragrance are not far;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Starlight of the summer being<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the loveliness you are.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>XIV</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Revealing distant vistas where I thought<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I saw your love stand as ’mid lily blooms,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Long, angel goblets molded out of stars,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pouring aroma at your feet: and life<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Took fire with thoughts your soul must help you read:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_147" id="page_147"></a>{147}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A song; and songs (who does not know?)<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Reveal no music but is thine.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou singest, and the waters flow,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The breezes blow,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The sunbeams shine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And all the earth grows young, divine.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Low laughter; and I look away;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whate’er the time of year, I dream<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I walk beneath sweet skies of May<br /></span> -<span class="i4">On ways where play<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Both gloom and gleam,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And hear a bird and forest stream.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A thought; and straight it seems to me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">However dark, the stars arise,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And rain down memories of thee,—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">As, it may be,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">From Paradise<br /></span> -<span class="i2">One feels an angel-lover’s eyes.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>XV</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“But is it well to tell you what I felt<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When I beheld no change beyond the moods<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That gloomed or glistened in your raven eyes?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When I sat singing ’neath one steadfast star<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_148" id="page_148"></a>{148}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of morning with no phantoms of strange fears<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To slay the look or word that helped me sing:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When song came easier than come buds in spring,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That make the barren boughs one pomp of pearls:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Oh, let the happy day go past,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And let the night be short or long,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">When life and love are one at last,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And hearts are full of song,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">’Tis sweet midsummer of the dream,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And all the dreams thou hast<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Are truer than they seem.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">And once I dreamt in autumn of<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Death with cadaverous eyes that gazed<br /></span> -<span class="i4">From out a shadow.... It was love<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whose deathless eyes were raised<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From the deep darkness that unrolled<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Wild splendor; and, amazed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy soul I did behold.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">And then it seemed that some one said,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The dead are nearer than dost know.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And when they tell thee love is dead,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Although it seems ’t is so,—<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_149" id="page_149"></a>{149}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i2">Still shalt thou feel in every beat<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And heart-throb of thy woe<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Love breathing, bitter-sweet.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>XVI</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“One evening when I came to talk with you,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Impatience hurt me in your brief replies.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I who had refused,—because we dread<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Approaching horror of our lives made maimed,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The inevitable, could not help but see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some change in you to’ards me.—That night I dreamed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I wandered ’mid old ruins, where the snake<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And scorpion crawled in poison-spotted heat;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Plague-bloated bulks of hideous vine and root<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wrapped fallen fanes; and bristling cacti bloomed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blood-red and death-white on forgotten tombs.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And from my soul went forth a bitter cry<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That pierced the silence that was packed with death<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And pale presentiment. And so I went,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A white flame beckoning before my face,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in my ears sounds of primordial seas<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That boasted preadamic gods and men:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_150" id="page_150"></a>{150}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">A flame before me and, beyond, a voice:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But, lo, the white flame when I reached for it<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Became thin ashes like a dead man’s dust;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when I thought I should behold the sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stagnation, turned to filth and rottenness,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rolled out a swamp: the voice became a stench.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">If we should pray together now<br /></span> -<span class="i4">For sunshine and for rain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And thou shouldst get fair weather now,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And I the clouds again,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Would ray and rain keep single,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or for the rainbow mingle?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Dear, if this should be made to me,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That I had asked for light,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And God had given shade to me,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And all to thee that’s bright,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wouldst thou go by with scorning,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Refusing darkness morning?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">If all my life were winter, love,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And all thy life were spring,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And mine with frost should splinter, love,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">While thine with birds should sing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wouldst thou walk past and glitter,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Forgetful mine is bitter?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_151" id="page_151"></a>{151}</span></p> - -<h4>XVII</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Still on the anguish of a dying hope<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An infant hope was nourished; all in vain.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For, at the last, although we parted friends,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The friendship lay like sickness on my soul,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That saw all gladness perish from the world<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With loss of thee; and, ’mid the future years,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love building high a sepulchre for hope.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah, could you learn forgetfulness,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And teach my heart how to forget;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I unlearn all fretfulness,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And teach your soul that still will fret;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The mornings of the world would burn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before us and we would not turn,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For we would not regret.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Did you but know what sorrow keeps,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That drives the joy of life away,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I what each to-morrow keeps<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For us until it is to-day;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No grief or change would then surprise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our lives with what our lives were wise,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And nothing could betray.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If you could be interior to<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My dreams that are all love’s desire;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_152" id="page_152"></a>{152}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i2">And I could be superior to<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Myself and such in you inspire;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Long stairways would the years unroll<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To lift us upward, soul to soul,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To what celestial fire!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>XVIII</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“There came no words of comfort from your lips.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not that I asked for pity! that had been<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As fire unto the scalded or dry bread<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unto the famished fallen ’mid the sands!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But all your actions said that I was wrong,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But how, I know not and have ceased to care;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still standing like one stricken blind at noon,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who gropes and fumbles, feeling all grow strange<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That once was so familiar; cursing God<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who locks him in with darkness and despair.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your judgment had been juster had it had<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A lesser love than mine to judge.—O love,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where lay the justice of thy judge in this?—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">‘If thou hadst praised thy God as long<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As thou hast praised a woman’s eyes,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_153" id="page_153"></a>{153}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i2">Perhaps thou hadst not suffered wrong,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">As now, and sat with sighs:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But, through thy prayer and praise made strong,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Perhaps thou hadst grown wise.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">‘If thou hadst bade thy God be more<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Than I, thy life had not been sad;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His love to thee had not been poor<br /></span> -<span class="i4">As mine. But thou wast mad,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And cam’st, a beggar, to my door,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And had more than I had.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">‘If thou hadst taught me how to love,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor played with love as monarchs play,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My heart had learned right soon enough,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">From thine, love’s lowlier way.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But all thy love stood far above,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Nor touched my soul to sway.’<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>XIX</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Thus did you write me, or in words like these,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When all was over and your heart was led,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through pity, haply, thus to justify<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yourself, that needed not to justify,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since all your reason lay in four small words,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_154" id="page_154"></a>{154}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Enough to wreck my world and all my life,<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>You did not love</i>: what more is there to tell?—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet, haply, it was this: One soul, that still<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Demanded more than it could well return;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, searching inward, yet could never pierce<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beyond its superficiality.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You did not know; yet I had felt in me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The rich fulfillment of a rare accord,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And could not, though the longing lay like song<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And music on me, win your soul’s response.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Were it well, lifting me<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Eyes that give heed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Down in your soul to see<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thought, the affinity<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Of act and deed?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Knowing what naught may tell<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Of heart and soul:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yet were the knowledge whole,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And were it well?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Were it well, giving true<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Love all enough,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Still to discover new<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Depths of true love for you,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Infinite love?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_155" id="page_155"></a>{155}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i2">Feeling what naught may tell<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Of heart and soul:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yet were the knowledge whole,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And were it well?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>XX</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“What else but, laboring for some good, to lift<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ourselves above the despotism of self,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All egoism strangling strength and hope,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To work and work, and, in the love of work,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which takes the place, in some, of love’s real self,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To quench the flame that eats into the heart?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Art, our intensest and our truest love,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Immaculateness that has never led<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One of her lovers wrong, his love all soul!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I followed beauty, and my ardor prayed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your memory would, feature and form and face,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Be blotted out within me; rise no more<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To mar the labor that I owed to Art.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I prayed, yea, to forget you, you I loved:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I prayed; and, see!—how Heaven answered me:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">I have no song to tell thee<br /></span> -<span class="i3">The love that I would sing;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_156" id="page_156"></a>{156}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i2">The song that should enspell thee<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With words, and so compel thee<br /></span> -<span class="i3">That thou, with love, must wing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Into my life to-morrow—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For all my songs are sorrow.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">My strength is not a giant<br /></span> -<span class="i3">To hold thee with strong hands,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To make thee less defiant;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy spirit more compliant<br /></span> -<span class="i3">With all my love demands:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Alas! my love is meekness,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And all my strength is weakness.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">What hope have I to hover—<br /></span> -<span class="i3">When wings refuse to rise—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Within thy heart’s close cover,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And there to play the lover,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Concealed from mortal eyes?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What hope! to give me boldness,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When all thy looks are coldness?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>XXI</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“I prayed; and for a time felt strong as strength,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And held both hands out to the loveliness<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That lured in the ideal. And I felt<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_157" id="page_157"></a>{157}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Compelling power upon me that would lift<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My face to heaven, now, to see the stars,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now bend it back to earth to see the flowers.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I learned long lessons ’twixt a look and look:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Breezes and linden blooms,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Sunshine and showers;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Rain, that the May perfumes,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Cupped in the flowers:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Clouds and the leaves that patter<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Raindrops that glint and glare—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or be they gems that scatter?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sapphires the sylphides shake,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When their loose fillets break,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Out of their radiant hair?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Now is my heart a lute!<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Now doth it pinion<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Song in love’s swift pursuit<br /></span> -<span class="i3">In thought’s dominion!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dreaming of all thou meanest,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Thou, with uneager eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nature! of worlds thou queenest,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whither thy mother hand<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Draws us from land to land,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Far from the worldly wise!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_158" id="page_158"></a>{158}</span></p> - -<h4>XXII</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Thus would I scatter grain around my life,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gold grain of song, to lure them down to me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cloud-colored doves of peace to fill my soul,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And find them turn to ravens while they flew,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Black ravens of despair that would not out.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The old, dull, helpless aching at the heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As if some scar had turned a wound again.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While idle grief stared at the brutal past,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which held a loss that made the past more rich<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than all Earth’s arts: that marveled how it came<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Such puny folly should usurp love’s high<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Proud pedestal of life that held your form,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In Parian, sculptured by the hands of thought.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And oft I shook myself,—for nightmares weighed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each sense,—and seemed to wake; yet evermore<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beheld a death’s-head grinning at my eyes.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So when the opening of the door doth thrill<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My soul with sudden knowledge death is come,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let me forget you or remember still,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">It will not matter then that life went ill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When death bends to me and my lips are dumb.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_159" id="page_159"></a>{159}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then I shall not remember: and shall leave<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No memory behind me, and no trace<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of aught my life accomplished. Let none grieve.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There is no heart my passing will bereave;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And there are thousands who can fill my place.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who knocks?—The night camps on each hill and heath:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And round my door are minions of the night:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And like a weapon, riven from its sheath,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The wind sweeps, and the tempest grinds its teeth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Around me and my wild, hand-hollowed light.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who knocks?—the door is open!—And I see<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Darkness threatening, with distorted fists<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of cloudy terror, Courage on her knee:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shine far, O candle! for it so may be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love is bewildered in the night and mists.—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No wandering wisp art thou, that haunts the rain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With pallid flicker, fading as it flies!—<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_160" id="page_160"></a>{160}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">The door is open!—Will he knock again?—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The door is open!—Shall it be in vain?—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come in! delay not! thou, whose ways are wise!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who knocked has entered: let the darkness pass,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The door be closed!—Now morning lights shall thrust<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It open; and the sunlight shine and mass<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Its splendor here where once but darkness was,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in its rays—motes and a little dust.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="cdott">. . . . . . . . . . . . .</p> - -<h4>XXIII</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And I had read, read to the bitter end;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Half hearing lone surmises of the rain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And trouble of the wind. At last I rose<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And went to Gwendolyn. She did not know<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The kiss I gave her had a shudder in it;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor how the form of Julien rose between<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Me and her lips, a blood-stain o’er his heart.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_161" id="page_161"></a>{161}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="THE_IDYLL_OF_THE_STANDING-STONE" id="THE_IDYLL_OF_THE_STANDING-STONE"></a>THE IDYLL OF THE STANDING-STONE</h3> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She knows its windings and its crooks;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The wildflowers of its lovely woods;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The crowfoot’s golden sisterhoods,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That crowd its sunny nooks:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The iris, whose blue blossoms seem<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Mab’s bonnets; and, each leaf a-gleam,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The trillium’s fairy-books.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He knows its shallows and its pools,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Its stair-like beds of rock that go,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Foaming, with waterfall and flow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where dart the minnow schools;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Its grassy banks that herons haunt,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or where the woodcock call; and gaunt<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The mushrooms lift their stools.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She seeks the columbine and phlox,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The bluebell, where the bushes fill<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The old stones of the ruined mill;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_162" id="page_162"></a>{162}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">She wades among the rocks:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her feet are rose-pearl in the stream;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her eyes are bluet-blue; a beam<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lies on her nut-brown locks.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He comes with fishing-reel and line<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To angle in the darker deeps,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where the reflected forest sleeps<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of sycamore and pine:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And now and then a shadow swoops<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Above him of a hawk that stoops<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From skies as clear as wine.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And will he see, if they should meet,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That she is fairer than each flower<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her apron fills? and in that hour<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Feel life less incomplete?...<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He stops below: she walks above—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The brook floats down, as white as love,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One blossom to his feet.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And she?—should she behold the tan<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of manly face and honest eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Would all her soul idealize<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Him? make him more than man?...<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She dropped one blossom when she heard<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Soft whistling—was it man or bird,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose notes so sweetly ran?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="figcenter"><a name="where" id="where"></a> -<a href="images/i_162a_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_162a_sml.jpg" width="500" height="330" alt="[Image unavailable.]" /></a> -</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Where the woodcock call <a href="#page_161">Page 161</a><br /></span> -<span class="i10"><i>The Idyll of the Standing-Stone</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_163" id="page_163"></a>{163}</span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They knew before they came to meet;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For some divulging influence<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Had touched them thro’ the starry lens<br /></span> -<span class="i0">God holds to bring in beat<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Two hearts—her heart one haunting wish,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And his—forgetful of the fish,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her flower at his feet.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The sassafras twigs had just lit up<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The yellow stars of their fragrant candles,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the dogwood brimmed each blossom-cup<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With spring to its brown-tipped handles;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When down the orchard, ’mid apple blooms—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Say, ho, the hum o’ the honey-bee!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A glimpse of Spring in the sprinkled glooms?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or only a girl? with the warm perfumes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Blown round her breezily.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The maple, as red as the delicate flush<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of an afterglow, was airy crimson;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the haw-tree, white in the wing-whipped hush,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Gleamed cool as a cloud that the moonlight dims on;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And under the oak, whose branches strung—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Say, heigh, the rap o’ the sapsuckér!—<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_164" id="page_164"></a>{164}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gray buds in tassels that sweetly swung,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They stood and listened a bird that sung,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As glad as the heart in her.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yellow the bloom of the rattle-weed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And white the bloom of the plum and cherry;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And red as a stain the red-bud’s brede,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And clover the color of sherry:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And a wren sings there in the orchard drift,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And, ho! the dew from the web that slips!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And a thrush sings there in the woodland rift,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where he to his face her face doth lift,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her face with the willing lips.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For a while they sat on the moss and grass,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where the forest bloomed a great wild garden;—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then the beam from the hollow—it seemed to pass,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the ray on the hills to harden,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When she rose to go, and his joy fell flat;—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And, heigh, the wasp i’ the pawpaw bell!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As she waved her hand—why, it seemed at that<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Twas Spring’s own self he was gazing at,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the life of his life as well.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_165" id="page_165"></a>{165}</span></p> - -<h4>III</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The teasel and the horsemint spread<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The hillsides, as with sunset sown,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Blooming along the Standing-Stone<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That ripples in its rocky bed:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There are no treasuries that hold<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Gold yellower than the marigold<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That crowds its mouth and head.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">’T is harvest-time: a mower stands<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Among the morning wheat and whets<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His scythe, and for a space forgets<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The labor of the ripening lands;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Then bends, and through the dewy grain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His long scythe hisses, and again<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He swings it in his hands.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And she beholds him where he mows<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On acres whence the water sends<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Faint music of reflecting bends<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And falls that interblend with flows:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She stands among the old bee-gums,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where all the apiary hums,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like some sweet bramble-rose.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She hears him whistling as he leans,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And, reaping, sweeps the ripe wheat by;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She sighs and smiles and knows not why:—<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_166" id="page_166"></a>{166}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">These are but simple country scenes:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He whets his scythe again, and sees<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her smiling near the hives of bees<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beneath the flowering beans.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The peacock-purple lizard creeps<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Along the rail; and deep the drone<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of insects makes the country lone<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With summer where the water sleeps:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She hears him singing as he swings<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His scythe; he thinks of other things—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not toil, and, singing, reaps.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>IV</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Into the woods they went again,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Over the wind-blown oats;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Out of the acres of golden grain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In where the light was a violet stain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In where the lilies’ throats<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Were brimmed with the summer rain.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hung on a bough a reaper’s hook,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Over the wind-blown oats;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A girl’s glad laugh and a girl’s glad look,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the hush and ripple of tree and brook,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And a wild bird’s silvery notes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And a kiss that a strong man took.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_167" id="page_167"></a>{167}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Out of the woods the lovers went,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Over the wind-waved wheat;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She with a face, where love was blent,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like to an open testament;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He, from his head to feet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dazed with his hope that was eloquent.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Here how oft had they come to tryst,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Over the wind-waved wheat!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here how oft had they laughed and kissed!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Talked and tarried where no one wist,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Here where the woods are sweet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dim and deep as a dewy mist.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>V</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Her pearls are blossoms-of-the-vale,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her only diamonds are the dews;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Such jewels never can grow stale,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor any value lose.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Among the millet beards she stands:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The languid wind lolls everywhere:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There are wild roses in her hands,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">One wild rose in her hair.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To-morrow, where the shade is warm,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Among the unmown wheat she’ll stop,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_168" id="page_168"></a>{168}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And from one daisy-loaded arm<br /></span> -<span class="i2">One ox-eyed daisy drop.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She’ll meet his brown eyes, true and brave,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With blue eyes, false yet dreamy sweet:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He is her lover and her slave,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who mows among the wheat.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="cdott">. . . . . . . . . . . . .</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When buds broke on the apple trees<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She wore an apple-blossom dress,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And laughed with him across the leas,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And love was all a guess.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When goose-plums ripened in the rain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Plum-colored was her gown of red;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He kissed her in the creek-road lane—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She was his life, he said.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When apples thumped the droughty land,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A russet color was her gown:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Another came, and—won her hand?—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nay! carried off to town....<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When grapes hung purple in the hot,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">None missed her and her simple dress,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_169" id="page_169"></a>{169}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Save one, whom, haply, she forgot,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who loved her none the less.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When snow made white each harvest sheaf,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He sought her out amid her show;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her rubies, redder than the leaf<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That autumn forests sow.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Not one regret her shame reveals;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She smiles at him, then puts him by;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He pleads; and she? she merely steels<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her heart and—lives her lie.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>VI</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And he returned when poppies strewed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their golden blots o’er moss and leaf,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blond little Esaus of the wood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So fair of face, of life so brief.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Did he forget?—Not he, in truth!—<br /></span> -<span class="iq">“No month,” he thought, “holds so much grace,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No month of spring, such grace and youth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As the sweet April of her face.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In fall the frail gerardia<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hung hints of sunset and of dawn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On root and rock, as if to draw<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_170" id="page_170"></a>{170}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her lips, remind him of one gone:—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of one unworthy, in pursuit<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of butterflies, who does not dream<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A flower, broken by her foot,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweeps, helpless, with her down the stream.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_171" id="page_171"></a>{171}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="SOME_SUMMER_DAYS" id="SOME_SUMMER_DAYS"></a>SOME SUMMER DAYS</h3> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If you had seen her waiting there<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Among the tiger-lily blooms,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That sowed their jewels everywhere<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Among the woodland gleams and glooms,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You had confessed her very fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sweeter than the wood’s perfumes.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A country girl with bare brown feet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She waits, while day slopes down the deeps:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The afternoon is dead with heat,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all the weary shadow sleeps<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like toil, arm-pillowed in the wheat,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beside the scythe with which he reaps.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There is no sound more distant than<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The cow-bell on the vine-hung hill;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No nearer than the locust’s span<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of noise that makes the silence shrill:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And now there comes a sun-browned man<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through tiger-lilies of the rill.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_172" id="page_172"></a>{172}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Long will they talk: till, in the end,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The clear west glows, the east grows pale;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Until the glow and pallor blend<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like moonlight on a shifting sail;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And then he ’ll clasp her; she will bend<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her head, consenting. Day will fail:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The west will flame, then fade away<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through heavy orange, rose, and red,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And leave the heavens violet gray<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Above a gypsy-lily bed:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then they will go; and he will say<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Such words to her as none has said.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A million stars the night will win<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Above them; and one firefly<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pulse like a tangled starbeam in<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The cedar dark against the sky:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then he will lift her dimpled chin<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And take the kiss she ’ll not deny.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And when the moon, like the great book<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of Judgment, golden with the light<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of God, lies open o’er yon nook<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of darkest wood and wildest height,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Together they will cross the brook<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And reach the gate and kiss good night.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_173" id="page_173"></a>{173}</span></p> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And now he wipes his hand along<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The beaded fire of his brow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hard toil has heated; and the strong<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Face flushes fuller health as now<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He fills his hay-fork to the prong,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, tossing it, again doth bow.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And now he rests, and looks away<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Across the sun-fierce hills and meads<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No rolling cloud has cooled to-day;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And from his face the brawny beads<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Drip; and he marks the heaps of hay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The fields of corn, the fields of weeds.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">At last he sees the tempest build<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Black battlements along the west,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Black breastworks that are thunder filled;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And bares his brow; and on his chest<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sweat of toil is cooled; and stilled<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The pulse of toil within his breast.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A strong wind brings the odorous death<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of far hay-meadows, and the scent<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is good within his nostrils’ breath:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The mighty trees are bowed, that leant<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For no man, as when Power saith<br /></span> -<span class="iq">“Bow down!” and stalwart men are bent.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_174" id="page_174"></a>{174}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He laughs, long-gazing as he goes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Along the elder-sweetened lane:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He feels the storm wind as it blows<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Across the sheaves of golden grain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And stops to pull one bramble-rose,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And watch the swiftly coming rain.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And there, ’mid locust trees, the farm<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dreams in a martin-haunted place:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He marks the far-off streaks of storm<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That, driven of the thunder, race:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He sees his child upon her arm,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in the door his wife’s fair face.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>III</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Below the sunset’s range of rose,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Below the heaven’s bending blue,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Down woodways where the balsam blows,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And milkweed tufts hang, gray of hue,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A Jersey heifer stops and lows—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The cows come home by one, by two.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There is no star yet: but the smell<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of hay and pennyroyal mix<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With herb-aromas of the dell;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the root-hidden cricket clicks:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_175" id="page_175"></a>{175}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Among the ironweeds a bell<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Clangs near the rail-fenced clover-ricks.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She waits upon the slope beside<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The windlassed well the plum-trees shade,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The well-curb that the goose-plums hide;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her light hand on the bucket laid,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unbonneted she waits, glad-eyed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her dress as simple as her braid.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She sees fawn-colored backs among<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sumacs now; a tossing horn;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A clashing bell of brass that rung:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Long shadows lean upon the corn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all the day dies scarlet-stung,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The cloud in it a rosy thorn.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Below the pleasant moon, that tips<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The tree-tops of the hillside, fly<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The evening bats; the twilight slips<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some fireflies like spangles by;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She meets him, and their happy lips<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Touch; and one star leaps in the sky.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He takes her bucket, and they speak<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of married hopes while in the grass<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The plum lies glowing as her cheek;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_176" id="page_176"></a>{176}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">The patient cows look back or pass;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in the west one golden streak<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Burns like a great cathedral glass.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>IV</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The skies are amber, blue, and green<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before the coming of the sun;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all the deep hills sleep, serene<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As if enchanted; every one<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is ribbed with morning mists that lean<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On woods through which vague whispers run.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Birds wake: and on the vine-hung knobs,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Above the brook, a twittering<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Confuses songs; one warbler robs<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Another of its note; a wing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beats by; and now a wild throat throbs<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Triumphant; all the woodlands sing.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The sun is up: the hills are heaped<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With instant splendor; and the vales<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Surprised with shimmers that are steeped<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In purple where the thin mist trails;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The water-fall, the rock it leaped,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are burning gold that foams and fails.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_177" id="page_177"></a>{177}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He drives his horses to the plow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Along the vineyard slopes, where bask<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dew-heavy grapes, half-ripened now,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In sun-shot shafts of shade: no mask<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of joy he wears; his face and brow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Glow as he enters on his task.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Before him, soaring through the mist,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The gray hawk wildly wings and screams;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its dewy back gleams, sunbeam-kissed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Above the wood that drips and dreams;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He guides the plow with one strong fist;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The soil rolls back in level seams.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Packed to the right the sassafras<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lifts leafy walls of spice that shade<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The blackberries, whose tendrils mass<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Big berries in the coolness made;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And drop their ripeness on the grass<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where trumpet-flowers fall and fade.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">White on the left the fence and trees<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That mark the garden; and the smoke,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Uncurling in the early breeze,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tells of the roof beneath the oak;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He turns his team, and, turning, sees<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The damp, dark soil his coulter broke.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_178" id="page_178"></a>{178}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Bees hum; and o’er the berries poise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lean-bodied wasps; loud blackbirds turn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Following the plow: there is a noise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of insect wings that buzz and burn;—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And now he hears his wife’s low voice,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The song she sings to help her churn.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>V</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There are no clouds that drift around<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The moon’s pearl-kindled crystal, (white<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As some sky-summoned spirit wound<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In raiment lit with limbs of light),<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That have not softened like the sound<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of harps when Heaven forgets to smite.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The vales are deeper than the dark,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And darker than the vales the woods<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That shadowy hill and meadow mark<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With broad, blurred lines, whereover broods<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Deep calm; and now a fox-hound’s bark<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon the quietude intrudes.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And though the night is never still,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet what we name its noises makes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its silence:—now a whippoorwill;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A frog, whose hoarser tremor breaks<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_179" id="page_179"></a>{179}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">The hush; then insect sounds that fill<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The night; an owl that hoots and wakes.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They lean against the gate that leads<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Into the lane that lies between<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The yard and orchard; flowers and weeds<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Smell sweeter than the odors keen<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That day distils from hotness; beads<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of dew make cool the gray and green.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Their infant sleeps. They feel the peace<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of something done that God has blessed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still as the pulse that will not cease<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There in the cloud that lights the west:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The peace of love that shall increase<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While soul to soul still gives its best.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_180" id="page_180"></a>{180}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="AN_EPIC_OF_SOUTH-FORK" id="AN_EPIC_OF_SOUTH-FORK"></a>AN EPIC OF SOUTH-FORK</h3> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The wild brook gleams on the sand and ripples<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Over the rocks of the riffle; brimming<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Under the elms like a nymph who dripples,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dips and glimmers and shines in swimming:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Under the linns and the ash-trees lodging,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Loops of the limpid waters lie,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shaken of schools of the minnows, dodging<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The glancing wings of the dragon-fly.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Lower, the loops are lines of laughter<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Over the stones and the crystal gravel;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Afar they gloom, like a face seen after<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Mirth, where the waters slowly travel;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shadowy slow where the Fork is shaken<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of the dropping bark of the sycamore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the water-snake, that the footsteps waken,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Slides like a crooked root from shore.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_181" id="page_181"></a>{181}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Peace of the forest; and silence, dimmer<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Than dreams. And now a wing that winnows<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The willow leaves, with their shadows slimmer<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the shallow there than a school of minnows:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Calm of the creek; and a huge tree twisted,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ringed, and turned to a tree of pearl;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A gray-eyed man, who is farmer-fisted,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And a dark-eyed, sinewy country girl.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The brow of the man is gnarled and wrinkled<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With the weight of the words that have just been spoken;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the girl has smiled and her eyes have twinkled,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though the bonds and the bands of their love lie broken:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She smiles, nor knows how the days have knotted<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her to the heart of the man who says:<br /></span> -<span class="iq">“Let us follow the paths that we think allotted.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I will go my ways and you your ways.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“And the man between us is your decision.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Worse or better he is your lover.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall I say he ’s worse since the sweet Elysian<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Prize he wins where I discover<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_182" id="page_182"></a>{182}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Only the hell of the luckless chooser?—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shall I say he ’s better than I, or more,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since he is winner and I am loser,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His life ’s made rich and mine made poor?”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“I tell you now as I oft and ever<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Have told,” she answered, the laughter dying<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Down in her eyes, “that his arms have never<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Held me!—no!—but you think me lying,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And you are wrong. And I think it better<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To part forever than still to dwell<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With the sad distrust, like an evil tetter,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On our lives forever, and so farewell.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And she turned away; and he watched her going,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The girlish pride in her eyes a-smoulder:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He saw her go, and his lips were glowing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fever that parched. And he stood, one shoulder<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Slouched to the tree; and he saw her stooping,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There by the bank, with a reckless foot;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Straighten; and tear from her breast his drooping<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lilies and fasten the pleurisy-root.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_183" id="page_183"></a>{183}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">With its orange fire he saw her passing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On and on; and the blood beat, burning<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His brain to madness; and seemingly massing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The weight of the world on his heart in yearning ...<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Butterflies swarmed in the moist sand-alleys;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A fairy fleet of Ionian sails<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They seemed with their wings, or of pirate galleys,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Maroon and yellow, for Elfland gales.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He watched her going; and harder, thicker<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The pulse of his breath and his heart’s hard throbbing.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How should he know that her heart was sicker?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How should he know that her soul was sobbing?—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She never looked back: and he saw her vanish<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In swirls of the startled butterflies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like a storm of flowers; and he could not banish<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The thought he had lost his all through lies.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He heard the cocks crow out the lonely hours.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How long the night! how far away the dawn!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_184" id="page_184"></a>{184}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">It seemed long months since he had seen the flowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The leaves, the sunlight, and the bee-hived lawn;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had heard the thrush flute in the tangled showers.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">His burning eyes ached, staring at the black<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Stolidity of midnight. Would God send<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No cool relief unto his mind,—a rack<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of inquisition,—tortures to unbend,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That stretched him forward and now strained him back?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Incomprehensible and undivulged,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The thought that took him back, retraced their walks,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through woods, on which the sudden perfumes bulged,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The bird-songs and the brilliant-blossomed stalks;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all the freedom which their talk indulged.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh, strong appeal! And he would almost yield;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When, firmly forward, he could feel her fault<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_185" id="page_185"></a>{185}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oppose the error of a rock-like shield,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And to resisting phalanxes cry halt—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, lo! bright cohorts broken on the field.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O mulct of morning! to the despot night<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Count down unminted gold, and let the day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Walk free from dungeons of the dark; delight<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Herself on mountains of the violet ray,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Clad in white maidenhood and morning white!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A melancholy coast, plunged deep in dream<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And death and silence, stretched the drowsy dark,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wherein he heard a round-eyed screech-owl scream,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In lamentation, and a watch-dog bark,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Vague as oblivion, lost in night’s deep stream.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And then hope moved him to divide the blinds<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To see if those bright sparkles were a star’s,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or but his feverish eyelids, which the mind’s<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Commotion weighed.—No hint of morning bars<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With glimmer heaven’s swart tapestry he finds.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So he remained, impatient, till the first<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Exploring crevices of Aztec morn,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_186" id="page_186"></a>{186}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dim cracks of treasure, Eldorados burst:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Then could he face his cowardice and scorn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His jealousy that thus his life had cursed.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Love knew no barriers now. And where he went<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Each woodland path was musical with birds;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each flow’r was richer, more divine of scent;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For love sought love with such expressive words<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That dawn’s delivery was less eloquent.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>III</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who is it hunts with his dog<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There where the heron is flying<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gray through the feathering fog<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Over the Fork, where is lying,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bridge-like, a butternut log,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There where the horsemint is drying?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who is it hunts in the brush,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Under the linns and the beeches,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here where the water-falls rush,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dark, where the noon never reaches?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here where the Fork is one crush<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of flags with a bloom like the peach’s?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_187" id="page_187"></a>{187}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He is handsome and supple and tall,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Blond-haired and vigorous-chested,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blue-eyed as the bud by the fall<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where he listens,—his rifle half rested,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Half leaned on the crumbling stone wall,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whose briers he lately has breasted.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He waits; and the sun on the dew<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of the cedars and leaves of the bushes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Strikes glittering frostiness through ...<br /></span> -<span class="i2">If a covey of partridges flushes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What good will a Winchester do,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or the dog to his feet that he crushes?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then a man breaks strong through the weeds<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where the buck-bushes toss and the spires<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the white-blossomed cohosh; ’mid reeds<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wild-carrots, and trammelling briers:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It is he! to his loved one who speeds—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the man in the bushes—he fires....<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">From leaves of the wind-shaken wood<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The dew of the dawn is still falling:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He is gone from the place where he stood,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Just there where the black crow is calling:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There is blood on the weeds: is it blood<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On the face of the man who is crawling?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_188" id="page_188"></a>{188}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Red blood or a smudge of the dawn?—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Now he lies with his gray eyes wide, staring,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stiff, still at the sun: he has drawn<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His limbs in a heap: and the faring<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bee-martins light near or pass on,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Not one of them knowing or caring.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It is noon: and the wood-dove is deep<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the calm of its cooing: and over<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The tops of the forest trees sweep<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The shadows of buzzards that hover:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wide-winged they sail on as asleep:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the bob-white is whistling from cover.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It is dusk: and the heat, that made wilt<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The leaves and the wildflowers’ faces,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gives place to the dew-drops that tilt<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With coolness the weeds where are traces<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of horror and darkness and guilt,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That nothing can wash from those places.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It is night: and the hoot-owlet mocks<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The dove of the day with wild weeping,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Fork is scarce heard on its rocks<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where the man is so quietly sleeping:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through the woods snaps the bark of a fox;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The lightning is fitfully leaping.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_189" id="page_189"></a>{189}</span></p> - -<h4>IV</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All day, ’twixt hope and fear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She waited at the gate,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Looking for him, more dear<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Now that he made her wait:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Day went and night draws near:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Stormy it grows and late.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Still, still she waits: great limbs<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The winds rend from the ridge;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each swollen shallow swims<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Head-deep below the bridge;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The drift, that breaks and brims<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Swirls lighter than the midge.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The night grows wildly gray<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With lightning-litten rain;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The forests sound and sway,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">An oak is rent in twain;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The thunder rolls away<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like some vast bolt and chain.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The Fork is whirling wreck<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of field and farm and wood;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And many a foaming fleck<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Drives where the rock-fence stood;—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A torrent sweeps break-neck<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Above the washed-out blood.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_190" id="page_190"></a>{190}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Night deepens: still she waits<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Expectant in despair:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Fork has reached the gates,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The wood’s wreck everywhere.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But when the storm abates,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She thinks, he will be there.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She sees the lightning rush<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Its blazing hells above;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She hears the thunder crush<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Heaven as if earthquake-clove—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Loud in the tempest’s hush<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She calls with all her love.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He comes, she feels; and stands<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The rushing waters o’er<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her feet, and on her hands<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And hair the wild down-pour,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The lightnings are wild brands<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To light him to her door.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Night deepens: but she knows<br /></span> -<span class="i2">God will not fail to send<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her love to soothe her woes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And one day’s errors mend.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wild stream foams and flows<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Booming in fall and bend.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_191" id="page_191"></a>{191}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Again the lightnings light<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The night like some wild torch;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The waters foam and fight;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And one uprooted larch<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweeps down, with something white<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wedged in it, by her porch.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She stoops: the lurid rain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beats on her back and head—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ay! he hath come again!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With livid lips once red!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A bullet in his brain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The night hath brought him—dead!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_192" id="page_192"></a>{192}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="A_NIELLO" id="A_NIELLO"></a>A NIELLO</h3> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It is not early spring and yet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of bloodroot blooms along the stream,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And blotted banks of violet,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My heart will dream.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Is it because the wind-flower apes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The beauty that was once her brow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That the white thought of it still shapes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The April now?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Because the wild-rose learned its blush<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From her fresh cheeks of maidenhood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their thought makes June of barren brush<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And empty wood?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And then I think how young she died—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Straight, barren death stalks down the trees,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The hard-eyed hours by his side<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That kill and freeze.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_193" id="page_193"></a>{193}</span></p> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When orchards are in bloom again<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My heart will bound, my blood will beat,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To hear the red-bird so repeat,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On boughs of rosy stain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His blithe, loud song,—like some far strain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From out the past,—among the bloom,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(Where bee, and wasp, and hornet boom)—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fresh, redolent with rain.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When orchards are in bloom once more,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Invasions of lost dreams will draw<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My feet, like some insistent law,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through blossoms to her door:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In dreams I’ll ask her, as before,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To let me help her at the well;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And fill her pail; and long to tell<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My love as once of yore.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I shall not speak until we quit<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The farm-gate, leading to the lane<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And orchard, all in bloom again,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">’Mid which the wood-doves sit<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And coo; and through whose blossoms flit<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The cat-birds crying while they fly:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then tenderly I’ll speak, and try<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To tell her all of it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_194" id="page_194"></a>{194}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And in my dream again she’ll place<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her hand in mine, as oft before,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When orchards are in bloom once more,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With all her old-time grace:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And we will tarry till a trace<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of sunset dyes the heav’ns; and then—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We’ll part, and, parting, I again<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Will bend and kiss her face.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And homeward, dreaming, I will go<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Along the cricket-chirring ways,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While sunset, like one crimson blaze<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of blossoms, lingers low:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And my lost youth again I’ll know,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all her love, when spring is here—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hers! hers! now dead this many a year<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whose love still haunts me so.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>III</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I would not die when Springtime lifts<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The white world to her maiden mouth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And heaps its cradle with gay gifts,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Breeze-blown from out the singing South:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Too full of life and loves that cling,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Too heedless of all mortal woe,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The young, unsympathetic Spring,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That death should never know.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_195" id="page_195"></a>{195}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I would not die when Summer shakes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her daisied locks below her hips,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, naked as a star that takes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A cloud, into the silence slips.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Too rich is Summer; poor in needs;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wrapped in her own warm loveliness<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her pomp goes by, and never heeds<br /></span> -<span class="i2">If one be more or less.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But I would die when Autumn goes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The sad rain dripping from her hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through forests where the wild wind blows<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Death and the red wreck everywhere:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweet as love’s last farewells and tears<br /></span> -<span class="i2">’T would be to die, when heavens are gray,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the old autumn of my years,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like a dead leaf borne far away.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_196" id="page_196"></a>{196}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="DEEP_IN_THE_FOREST" id="DEEP_IN_THE_FOREST"></a>DEEP IN THE FOREST</h3> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<p class="c">SPRING ON THE HILLS</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah, shall I follow, on the hills,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Spring, as wild wings follow?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where wild-plum trees make wan the hills,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Crab-apple trees the hollow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Haunts of the bee and swallow?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In red-bud brakes and flowery<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Acclivities of berry;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In dogwood dingles, showery<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With dew, where wrens make merry?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or drifts of swarming cherry?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In valleys of wild-strawberries,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And of the clumped May-apple;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or cloud-like trees of hawberries,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With which the south-winds grapple,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That brook and pathway dapple?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_197" id="page_197"></a>{197}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">With eyes of far forgetfulness,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like some white wood-thing’s daughter,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose feet are bee-like fretfulness,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To see her run like water<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through boughs that slipped or caught her.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O Spring, to seek, yet find you not,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To search and still continue;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To glimpse, to touch, but bind you not,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To lose and then to win you,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All sweet evasion in you.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In pearly, peach-blush distances<br /></span> -<span class="i2">You gleam; the woods are braided<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of myths, of dream-existences;—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There, where the brook is shaded,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Some splendor surely faded.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O presence, like the primrose’s,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Once more I feel your power!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In rainy scents of dim roses<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I breathe you for an hour,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Elusive as a flower.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<p class="c">THE WOOD SPIRIT</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah me! I still remember<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How flushed, before the shower,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_198" id="page_198"></a>{198}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">The dusk was; like a scarlet rose,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or blood-red poppy-flower.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now heaven is starred; the moonlight<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lays blurs upon the grain—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You may not know it from white frost,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The moonlight on the rain.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And all the forest utters<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A restless moan in rest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For all the deep, dark shadow lies<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like iron on its breast.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I mark the moveless shadow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I mark the unreaped corn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then something whispers overhead,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">“Come to me, mortal-born.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I sit alone and listen;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The low leaves sound and sigh;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The dew drips from the bearded grain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A mist slips from the sky.—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I hear her whisper, whisper,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And breathe in some dim place;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her feet are easier than the dew,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And than the mist her face.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_199" id="page_199"></a>{199}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I may not clasp her ever,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">This spirit made for song,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who dwelleth in the young, young oak<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The old, old oaks among.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Her limbs are molded moonlight;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her breasts are silver moons:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She glimmers and she glitters where<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The purple shadow swoons.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And since she knows I love her,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She says my soul has died,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And laughs and mocks me in the mist<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That haunts the forest-side.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When winds run mad in woodlands<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And all the great boughs swing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I see her wild hair blow and blow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Black as a raven’s wing.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When winds are tamed and tethered<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And stars are keen as frost,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I search and seek within the wood,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There where my soul was lost.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I seek her, and she flies me;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I follow; and the whole<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dim woodland echoes with her voice,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Soft calling to my soul.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_200" id="page_200"></a>{200}</span></p> - -<h4>III</h4> - -<p class="c">OWL ROOST</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The slope is a mass of vines:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">If you walk in the daylight there,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A gleam as of twilight shines<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through the vines massed everywhere:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each trunk, that a creeper twines,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is a column, strong to bear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The dome of its leaves that wave,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cathedral-dim and grave.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Black moss makes silent the feet:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And, above, the fox-grapes lace<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So thick that the noonday heat<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is chill as a murdered face:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the winds for miles repeat<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The fugue of a rolling bass:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The deep leaves twinkle and turn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But over no flower or fern.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">An angular spider weaves<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Great webs between the trees,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Webs that are witches’ sieves:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And honey-and bumblebees<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Go droning among the leaves,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like the fairies’ oboës:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_201" id="page_201"></a>{201}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">At dark the owlets croon<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the stars and the sickle-moon.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">At dark I will not go<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There where the branches sigh;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where naught but the glow-worms glow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Each one like a demon’s eye:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O’er which, like a battle-bow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With an arrow that it lets fly,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The new-moon and one star<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hang and glimmer afar.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">At dawn, if my mood be dim,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the day be a cloudless one,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There where the sad winds hymn<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I ’ll walk, but its shade will shun;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its shade, where I feel the grim<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Horror of something done<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here in the years long past,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That the place conceals to the last.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>IV</h4> - -<p class="c">MOSS AND FERN</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Where rise the brakes of bramble there,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wrapped with the trailing rose,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_202" id="page_202"></a>{202}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through cane where waters ramble, there<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where deep the green cress grows,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Who knows?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Perhaps, unseen of eyes of man,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Hides Pan.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Perhaps the creek, whose pebbles make<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A foothold for the mint,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">May bear,—where soft its trebles make<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Confession,—some vague hint—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">(The print,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Goat-hoofed, of one who lightly ran)—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of Pan.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Where, in the hollow of the hills<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ferns deepen to the knees,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What sounds are those above the hills,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And now among the trees?—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">No breeze!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The syrinx, haply, none may scan,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of Pan.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In woods where waters break upon<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The hush like some soft word;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where sun-shot shadows shake upon<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The moss, who has not heard—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">No bird!—<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_203" id="page_203"></a>{203}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">The flute, as breezy as a fan,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of Pan?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Far in, where mosses lay for us<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Still carpets, cool and plush;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where bloom and branch and ray for us<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Swoon in the noonday flush,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The hush<br /></span> -<span class="i0">May sound the satyr hoof a span<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of Pan.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In woods where thrushes sing to us,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And brooks dance sparkling heels;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where wild aromas cling to us,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And all our worship kneels,—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Who steals<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon us, haunch and face of tan,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">But Pan?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>V</h4> - -<p class="c">WOODLAND WATERS</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Through leaves of the nodding trees,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where blossoms sway in the breeze,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pink bag-pipes made for the bees,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whose slogan is droning and drawling:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the columbine scatters its bells,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_204" id="page_204"></a>{204}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the wild bleeding-heart its shells,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O’er mosses and rocks of the dells<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The brook of the forest is falling.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You can hear it under the hill<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the wind in the wood is still,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, strokes of a fairy drill,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sounds the bill of the yellow-hammer:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By the solomon’s-seal it slips,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cohosh and the grass that drips—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like the words of an Undine’s lips,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is the sound of its falls that stammer.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I lie in the woods: and the scent<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the honeysuckle is blent<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With the sound: and a Sultan’s tent<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is my dream, with the East enmeshéd:—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A slave-girl sings; and I hear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The languor of lute-strings near,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And a dancing-girl of Cashmere<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the harem of good Er Reshid.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">From ripples of Irak lace<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She flashes the amorous grace<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of her naked limbs and her face,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">While her golden anklets tinkle:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then over mosaic floors<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_205" id="page_205"></a>{205}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Open seraglio doors<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of cedar: by twos, by fours,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like stars that tremble and twinkle,—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">While the dulcimers sing, unseen,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The handmaids come of the Queen<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Neath silvern lamps, one sheen<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of jewels of Afrite treasure:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I see the Arabia rise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the Nights that were rich and wise,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beautiful, dark, in the eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of Zubeideh, the Queen of Pleasure.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>VI</h4> - -<p class="c">THE THORN-TREE</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The night is sad with silver and the day is glad with gold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the woodland silence listens to a legend never old,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the Lady of the Fountain, whom the fairy people know,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With her limbs of samite whiteness and her hair of golden glow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whom the boyish South-wind seeks for and the girlish-stepping rain,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_206" id="page_206"></a>{206}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whom the sleepy leaves still whisper men shall never see again;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She whose Vivien charms were mistress of the magic Merlin knew,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That could change the dew to glow-worms and the glow-worms into dew.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There’s a thorn-tree in the forest, and the fairies know the tree,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With its branches gnarled and wrinkled as a face with sorcery;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But the May-time brings it clusters of a rainy fragrant white,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like the bloom-bright brows of beauty or a hand of lifted light.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all day the silence whispers to the sun-ray of the morn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How the bloom is lovely Vivien and how Merlin is the thorn:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How she won the doting wizard with her naked loveliness<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till he told her demon secrets that but made his magic less.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How she charmed him and enchanted in the thorn-tree’s thorns to lie<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Forever with his passion that should never dim or die:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_207" id="page_207"></a>{207}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And with wicked laughter looking on this thing that she had done,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like a visible aroma lingered sparkling in the sun;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How she stooped to kiss the pathos of an elf-lock of his beard,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All in mockery, at parting, and mock pity of his weird:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But her magic had forgotten that “who bends to give a kiss<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Will bring down the curse upon them of the person whose it is”:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So the silence tells the secret.—And at night the fairies see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How the tossing bloom is Vivien, who is struggling to be free,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the thorny arms of Merlin, who, forever, is the tree.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>VII</h4> - -<p class="c">THE HAMADRYAD</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She stood among the longest ferns<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The valley held; and in her hand<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One blossom like the light that burns,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Vermilion, o’er a sunset land;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And round her hair a twisted band<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_208" id="page_208"></a>{208}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of pink-pierced mountain-laurel blooms:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And darker than dark pools, that stand<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Below the star-communing glooms,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her eyes beneath her hair’s perfumes.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I saw the moon-pearl sandals on<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her flower-white feet, that seemed too chaste<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To tread pure gold: and, like the dawn<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On splendid peaks that lord a waste<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of solitude lost gods have graced,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her face: she stood there, faultless-hipped,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Bound with the cestused silver,—chased<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With acorn-cup and crown, and tipped<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With oak-leaves,—whence her chiton slipped.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Limbs that the gods call loveliness!—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The grace and glory of all Greece<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wrought in one marble form were less<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Than her perfection!—’Mid the trees<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I saw her; and time seemed to cease<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For me—And, lo! I lived my old<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Greek life again of classic ease,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Barbarian as the myths that rolled<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Me back into the Age of Gold.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_209" id="page_209"></a>{209}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="WRECKAGE" id="WRECKAGE"></a>WRECKAGE</h3> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Love and the drift of many dreams,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Under the moon of a Florida night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Over the beach with its silvery seams<br /></span> -<span class="i2">White as a sail is white.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Love that entered into two lives<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Out of the dreams that the nights have borne,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Over the waves where the vapor drives,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Mists that the stars have torn.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Love that welded two hearts and hands<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There by the sea, ’neath the shell-white moon,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like to the stars and the mists and the sands<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Setting two lives in tune.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Nights of love that one still keeps<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sacred;—nights, that the faith of one<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heartened there in the treacherous deeps,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Under a tropic sun.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_210" id="page_210"></a>{210}</span></p> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Parting he said to her: “Let us be true to them,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All of our dreams, of the night, of the morning:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What is our present, its hope, but a clew to them?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What is our past but a dream and a warning?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Have you considered the life that regretfully<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Foldeth weak arms to the fate it might master?—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had I been true to my dreams, never fretfully<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Halted, my future and joy had been faster.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They had come down to the ocean that, bellowing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Boiled on the sand and the shells that were broken;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All of the summer was fading and yellowing;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Now they must part and their vows had been spoken.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It had befallen that heaven was lowering;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Over the sea, like the wraith of a wrecker,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Clamored the gull; and the mist in the showering<br /></span> -<span class="i2">East seemed the ghost of a lofty three-decker.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_211" id="page_211"></a>{211}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Infinite foam; and the boom of the hollowing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Breakers that buried the rocks to their shoulders;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Battle and boast of the deep in the wallowing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">World of the waves where the red sunset smoulders.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Long was the leap of the foam on the thunderous<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beach; and each end of the beach was a flying<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fog of the spray: and she said, “Let it sunder us!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Still we will love, for love is undying!”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet, if it comes to the thing he has said to her?—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wreckage and death?—the love she has given<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Turned into sorrow?—Oh, that was a dread to her!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He, like a weed, by the waters far driven!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Weeping, her bosom with shudders was shaken as<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She for a moment hard clung to her sailor,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Kissed him and—parted. His boat had been taken; as<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Paler it grew the woman grew paler.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_212" id="page_212"></a>{212}</span></p> - -<h4>III</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All day the rain drove, falling<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Upon the sombre sea;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All day, his wet sail hauling,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The sailor tacked a-lea;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And through the wild rain calling,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What was it?—was it he?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">At dusk the gull clanged, drifting<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Above the boiling brine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, through the wan west sifting,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Streamed one red sunset line;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in its wild light shifting,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His far sail seemed to shine.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All night the wind wailed, sighing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Along the wreck-strewn coast;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All night the surf, defying,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Rolled thunder in and boast;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All night she heard a crying—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The sea? or some lost ghost?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>IV</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The balm of the night and the glory,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The music and scent of the sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are as song to her heart or a story<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of the never-to-be.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_213" id="page_213"></a>{213}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">The stars and the night and the whiteness<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of foam on the stretch of the sand;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Faint foam that is tossed, like the brightness<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Of a mermaiden’s hand.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No sail on the ocean; no sailor<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On shore, and the winds all asleep;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And her face in the starlight far paler<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Than women who weep.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A mist on the deep; and the ghostly<br /></span> -<span class="i2">White moon in the deep of the night;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And a light that is neither; that mostly<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Is shadow not light.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No sea-gull, that vanished with gleaming<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of wings, in the swing of the spray;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Perhaps it was only her dreaming,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Or merely a ray<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of moonlight; the glimmering essence<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of all that is grayest and dim—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But never his face, or his presence<br /></span> -<span class="i3">That dripped in each limb.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And she cried through the night, “Let perish!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O God, let me die of despair!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If he whom I love, whom I cherish,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Is weltering there!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_214" id="page_214"></a>{214}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">She seemed but a sea-mist made woman,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And he but a sound of the sea<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Made man where nothing was human,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And never would be.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>V</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Long he sailed the deep that glasses<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The face of God and His majesty;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Passed the Horn and the Seas of Grasses,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Drifting aimlessly.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Time went by with its days that ever<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Burden the hearts of those who be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Far away from their love; whom sever<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Leagues of the shapeless sea.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Land at last, whose reefs rolled broken<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Foam of the balked waves everywhere;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Land; one tangle of weeds and oaken<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Wreck and of rocks laid bare.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here and there the sand stretched livid<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Leagues of famine, one blinding glare;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Crags, o’er which gaunt birds winged vivid,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Harsh in the earthquake air.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A little cloud in the sunset’s splendor;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A little cloud that the sunset stains:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Night, and a wisp of a moon that, slender,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dreams of the hurricanes.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_215" id="page_215"></a>{215}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Winds that stride as with sounding sandals;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Winds that the tempest has loosed from chains:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Light that leaps like a spear he handles,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Shaking his thunder-manes.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Wrenching the world in wreck asunder,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Black rebellion of hell and night;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wrath and roar of the rocks and thunder,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Flame and the winds that fight ...<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beating the drift and the hush together,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Waves and winds that the morn makes white;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Calm and peace of the tropic weather<br /></span> -<span class="i3">After the typhoon’s might.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Clouds blow by and the storm’s forgotten.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Savage coasts where the sea-cow feeds.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wash of weeds and the sea-weeds rotten.<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And a dead face in the weeds.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">None to know him or name him brother;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Only the savage in feathers and beads;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The South-Sea Islander, fitting another<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Barb in the shaft he speeds.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Far away where the sea-gulls gather;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Far away where the evening falls,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lone she stands where the wild waves lather,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Rolling the sea in walls.—<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_216" id="page_216"></a>{216}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who shall tell her, the lonely tryster?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Tell her of him on whom she calls?—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Suns that beat on his face and blister?<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Stars? or the sea that crawls?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>VI</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She dreamed that there, beside the ocean sitting,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Alone she watched, when, at her feet, behold!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Between the foam-ridge and the sea-gull’s flitting,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">His body rolled.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All was not as it was before they parted;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She dreamed he had remembered, she forgot;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He ’d said he would forget her, angry-hearted,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And yet could not.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And then it seemed that, had she known, she surely<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Had given pity when she could not give<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her love to him, who loved her madly, purely,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And bade him live.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And then she dreamed she looked upon the slanted<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hulk of a wreck: and high above the wave,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Worn of the wind and of the cactus planted,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">His nameless grave.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_217" id="page_217"></a>{217}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="SIREN_SANDS" id="SIREN_SANDS"></a>SIREN SANDS</h3> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The rhododendrons bloom and shake<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their petals wide and gleam and sway<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Among palmettoes, by the lake,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beyond the bay.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Shores where we watched the eve reveal<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her cloudy sanctuaries, while<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The bay lay lavaed into steel<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For mile on mile.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We watched the purple coast confuse<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Soft outlines with the graying light;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And towards the gulf a vessel lose<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Itself in night.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We saw the sea-gulls dip and soar;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wild-fowl gather past the pier;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And from rich skies, as from God’s door,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Gold far and near.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_218" id="page_218"></a>{218}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Two foreign seamen passed and we<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heard mellow Spanish; like twin stars,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where they lounged smoking, we could see<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Their faint cigars.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Night; and the heavens stained and strewn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With stars the waters idealized,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Until their light the rising moon<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Epitomized.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Morn; and the pine-wood balms awake;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Winds roll the dew-drop from the rose;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wide lake burns; and, on the lake,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The ripple glows.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Far coasts detach deep purple from<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The blue horizon, and the day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beholds the sunburnt sailor come<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And sail away.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The bird that slept at dusk, at dawn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Awakes again within the thorn.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweet was the night to it, now gone;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And sweet is morn.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Through halls of columned scarlet,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like some dark queen, the Dusk<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Trails skirts of myrrh and musk,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_219" id="page_219"></a>{219}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hung in each ear, a starlet<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Gleams,—gems the clouds’ gaunt Jinn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Guard; and, beneath her chin,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The moon, an opal tusk.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There lies a ghostly glory<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Upon the sea and sand;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A gleam, as of a hand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stretched from the realms of story,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of rosy golden ray;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pointing the world the way<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To some far Fairyland.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">As fades the west’s vermilion<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Above the distant coasts,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The stars come out in hosts;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Within the night’s pavilion,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As flower speaks to flower,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dim hour calls to hour,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Pale with the past’s sweet ghosts.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>III</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Music that melts through moonlight,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Faint on the summer breeze;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fireflies, moonlight, and foaming<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Susurrus of the seas.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_220" id="page_220"></a>{220}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Music that drifts like perfume,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And touches like a hand;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dreams and stars and the ocean,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And we alone on the sand.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Glimmers and vague reflections,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the white swirl of the foam;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pale on the purple a vessel,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And a light that beckons home.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And I seem to see the music,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On a moonbeam bar that floats,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For the music is moonlight magic,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the flies are its golden notes.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And I seem to hear one singing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of a brown old coast and sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of lives that were filled with passion,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And old-world tragedy.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And I hear the harsh reef’s calling<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For a noble ship at sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the winds of the ocean singing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A dirge for the dead to be.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Till it seems that I am the pilot,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And you are the mermaidén,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who lures him on to the wrecking<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And into her arms again.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_221" id="page_221"></a>{221}</span></p> - -<h5><i>Song</i></h5> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Over the hills where the winds are waking<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All is lone as the soul of me;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Over the hills where the stars are shaking,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Breton hills by the sea.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">These were with me to tell me often<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How she pined in her Croisic home,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Winds that sing and the stars that soften<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Over the miles of foam.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Fishers’ nets and the sailor faces;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sad salt marshes and granite piers;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Brown, loud coast where the long foam races—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And a parting full of tears.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A gray sail’s ghost where the autumn lies on<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wraiths of the mist and the squall-blown rain;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her dark girl eyes that search the horizon,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Grave with a haunting pain.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Stars may burn and the wild winds whistle<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Over the rocks where the sea-gulls rave—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My heart is bleak as the wind-worn thistle<br /></span> -<span class="i2">on her seaside grave.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_222" id="page_222"></a>{222}</span></p> - -<h4>IV</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sad as sad eyes that ache with tears<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The stars of night shine through the leaves;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And shadowy as the Fates’ dim shears<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The weft that twilight weaves.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The summer sunset marched long hosts<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of gold adown one golden peak,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That flamed and fell; and now gray ghosts<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of mist the far west streak.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They seem the shades of things that weep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wan things the heavens would conceal;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blood-stained; that bear within them, deep,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Red wounds that will not heal.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Night comes, and with it storm, that slips<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wild angles of the jagged light:—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I feel the wild rain on my lips,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A wild girl is the Night.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A moaning tremor sweeps the trees;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all the stars are packed with death:—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She holds me by the neck and knees,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I feel her wild, wet breath.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_223" id="page_223"></a>{223}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hell and its hags drive on the rain:—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Night holds me by the hair and pleads;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her kisses fall like blows again;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My brow is dewed with beads.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The thunder plants wild beacons on<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each volleying height.—My soul seems blown<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Far out to sea. The world is gone,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">And night and I alone.<br /></span> - -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Tampa, Florida, February, 1893.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_224" id="page_224"></a>{224}</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><a name="WAR-TIME_SILHOUETTES" id="WAR-TIME_SILHOUETTES"></a>WAR-TIME SILHOUETTES.</h3> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<p class="c">THE BATTLE</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The night had passed. The day had come,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bright-born, into a cloudless sky:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We heard the rolling of the drum,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And saw the war-flags fly.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And noon had crowded upon morn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ere Conflict shook her red locks far,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And blew her brazen battle-horn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon the hills of War.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Noon darkened into dusk—one blot<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of nightmare lit with hell-born suns;—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We heard the scream of shell and shot<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And booming of the guns.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">On batteries of belching grape<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We saw the thundering cavalry<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hurl headlong,—iron shape on shape,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With shout and bugle-cry.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_225" id="page_225"></a>{225}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When dusk had moaned and died, and night<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Came on, wind-swept and wild with rain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We slept, ’mid many a bivouac light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And vast fields heaped with slain.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<p class="c">IN HOSPITAL</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Wounded to death he lay and dreamed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The drums of battle beat afar,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And round the roaring trenches screamed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The hell of war.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then woke; and, weeping, spoke one word<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the kind nurse who bent above;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then in the whitewashed ward was heard<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A song of love.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The song <i>she</i> sang him when she gave<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The portrait that he kissed; then sighed,<br /></span> -<span class="iq">“Lay it beside me in the grave!”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And smiled and died.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>III</h4> - -<p class="c">THE SOLDIER’S RETURN</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A brown wing beat the apple leaves and shook<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Some blossoms on her hair. Then, note on note,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_226" id="page_226"></a>{226}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">The bird’s wild music bubbled. In her book,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her old romance, she seemed to read. No look<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Betrayed the tumult in her trembling throat.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The thrush sang on. A dreamy wind came down<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From one white cloud of afternoon and fanned<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The dropping petals on her book and gown,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And touched her hair, whose braids of quiet brown<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Gently she smoothed with one white jeweled hand.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then, with her soul, it seemed, from feet to brow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She felt him coming: ’t was his heart, his breath<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That stirred the blossom on the apple bough;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His step the wood-thrush warbled to. And now<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her cheek went crimson, now as white as death.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then on the dappled page his shadow—yes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Not unexpected, yet her haste assumed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fright’s startle; and low laughter did confess<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His presence there, soft with his soul’s caress<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And happy manhood, where the rambo bloomed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_227" id="page_227"></a>{227}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Quickly she rose and all her gladness sent<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wild welcome to him. Her his unhurt arm<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Drew unresisted; and the soldier leant<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fond lips to hers. She wept. And so they went<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Deep in the orchard towards the old brick farm.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>IV</h4> - -<p class="c">THE APPARITION</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A day of drought, foreboding rain and wind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As if stern heaven, feeling earth had sinned,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Frowned all its hatred. When the evening came,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Along the west, from bank on bank unthinned<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of clouds, the storm unfurled its oriflamme.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then lightning signaled, and the thunder woke<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its monster drums, and all God’s torrents broke.—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She saw the wild night when the dark pane flashed;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heard, where she stood, the disemboweled oak<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Roar into fragments when the welkin crashed.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Long had she waited for a word. And, lo!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Anticipation still would not say “No:”<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He has not written; he will come to her;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_228" id="page_228"></a>{228}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">At dawn!—to-night!—Her heart hath told her so;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And so expectancy and love aver.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She seems to hear his fingers on the pane—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The glass is blurred, she can not see for rain:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is <i>that</i> his horse?—the wind is never still:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And <i>that</i> his cloak?—ah, surely that is plain!—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A torn vine tossing at the window-sill.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She hurries forth to meet him; pale and wet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She sees his face; the war-soiled epaulet;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A sabre-scar that bleeds from brow to cheek;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And now he smiles, and now their lips have met,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And now ... Dear heart, he fell at Cedar Creek!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>V</h4> - -<h4>WOUNDED</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It was in August that they brought her news<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of his bad wounds; the leg that he must lose.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And August passed, and when October raised<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Red rebel standards on the hills that blazed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They brought a haggard wreck; she scarce knew whose,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Until they told her, standing stunned and dazed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_229" id="page_229"></a>{229}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A shattered shadow of the stalwart lad,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The five-months husband, whom his country had<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Enlisted, strong for war; returning this,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whose broken countenance she feared to kiss,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While health’s remembrance stood beside him sad,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And grieved for that which was no longer his.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They brought him on a litter; and the day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was bright and beautiful. It seemed that May<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In woodland rambles had forgot her path<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of season, and, disrobing for a bath,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By the autumnal waters of some bay,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With her white nakedness had conquered Wrath.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Far otherwise she wished it: wind and rain;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sky, one gray commiserative pain;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sleet, and the stormy drift of frantic leaves;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To match the misery that each perceives<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Aches in her hand-clutched bosom, and is plain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In eyes and mouth and all her form that grieves.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Theirs, a mute meeting of the lips; she stooped<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And kissed him once: one long, dark side-lock drooped<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_230" id="page_230"></a>{230}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i2">And brushed against the bandage of his breast;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With feeble hands he held it and caressed;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then all his happiness in one look grouped,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Saying, “Now I am home, I crave but rest.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Once it was love! but then the battle killed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All that sweet nonsense of his youth, and filled<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His heart with sterner passion.—Ah, well! peace<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Must balm its pain with patience; whose surcease<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Means reconcilement; e’en as God hath willed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With war or peace who shapes His ends at ease.—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What else for these but, where their mortal lot<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of weak existence drags rent ends, to knot<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The frail unravel up!—while love (afraid<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Time will increase the burthen on it laid),<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seeks consolation, that consoleth not,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In toil and prayer, waiting what none evade.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>VI</h4> - -<p class="c">THE MESSAGE</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Long shadows toward the east: and in the west<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_231" id="page_231"></a>{231}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i2">A blaze of garnet sunset, wherein rolled<br /></span> -<span class="i2">One cloud like some great gnarly log of gold;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each gabled casement of the farm seemed dressed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In ghosts of roses blossoming manifest.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And she had brought his letter there to read,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There on the porch, that faced the locust glade;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To watch the summer sunset burn and fade,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And breathe the twilight scent of wood and weed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Forget all care and her soul’s hunger feed.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And on his face her fancy mused a while:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">“Dark hair, dark eyes.—And now he has a beard<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dark as his hair.”—She smiled; yet almost feared<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It changed him so she could not reconcile<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her heart to that which hid his lips and smile.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then tried to feature, but could only see<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The beardless man who bent to her and kissed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her and their child and left them to enlist:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She heard his horse grind in the gravel: he<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Waved them adieu and rode to fight with Lee.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_232" id="page_232"></a>{232}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now all around her drowsed the hushful hum<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of evening insects. And his letter spoke<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of love and longings to her: nor awoke<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One echo of the bugle and the drum,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But all their future in one kiss did sum.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The stars were thick now; and the western blush<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Drained into darkness. With a dreamy sigh<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She rocked her chair.—It must have been the cry<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of infancy that made her rise and rush<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To where their child slept, and to hug and<br /></span> -<span class="i0">hush.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then she returned. But now her ease was gone.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She knew not what, she felt an unknown fear<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Press, tightening, at her heart-strings; then a tear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Scalded her eyelids, and her cheeks grew wan<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As helpless sorrow’s, and her white lips drawn.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">With stony eyes she grieved against the skies,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A slow, dull, aching agony that knew<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Few tears, and saw no answer shining to<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_233" id="page_233"></a>{233}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her silent questions in the stars’ still eyes<br /></span> -<span class="iq">“Where Peace delays and where her soldier lies.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They could have told her. Peace was far away,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beyond the field that belched black batteries<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All the red day. ’Mid picket silences,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On woodland mosses, in a suit of gray,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shot through the heart, he by his rifle lay.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>VII</h4> - -<p class="c">THE WOMAN ON THE HILL</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The storm-red sun, through wrecks of wind and rain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And dead leaves driven from the frantic boughs,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where, on the hill-top, stood a gaunt, gray house,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flashed wildest ruby on each rainy pane.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then woods grew darker than unburdened grief;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And, crimson through the woodland’s ruin, streamed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The sunset’s glare—a furious eye, which seemed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Watching the moon rise like a yellow leaf.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_234" id="page_234"></a>{234}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The rising moon, against which, like despair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">High on the hill, a woman, darkly drawn,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The wild leaves round her, stood; with features wan,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And tattered dress and wind-distracted hair.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">As still as death, and looking, not through tears,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For the young face of one she knows is lost,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">While in her heart the melancholy frost<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gathers of all the unforgotten years.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What if she heard to-night a hurrying hoof,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wild as the whirling of the withered leaf,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Bring her a more immedicable grief,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A shattered shape to live beneath her roof!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The shadow of him who claimed her once as wife;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her lover!—no!—the wreck of all their past<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Brought back from battle!—Better to the last<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A broken heart than heartbreak all her life!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_235" id="page_235"></a>{235}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="MOSBY_AT_HAMILTON" id="MOSBY_AT_HAMILTON"></a>MOSBY AT HAMILTON</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Down Loudon lanes, with swinging reins,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And clash of spur and sabre,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And bugling of the battle-horn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Six score and eight we rode that morn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Six score and eight of Southern born,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All tried in war’s hot labor.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Full in the sun, at Hamilton,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We met the South’s invaders;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who, over fifteen hundred strong,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Mid blazing homes had marched along<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All night, with Northern shout and song,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To crush the rebel raiders.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Down Loudon lanes, with streaming manes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We spurred in wild March weather;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all along our war-scarred way<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The graves of Southern heroes lay—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our guide-posts to revenge that day,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As we rode grim together.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_236" id="page_236"></a>{236}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Old tales still tell some miracle<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of Saints in holy writing—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But who shall say why hundreds fled<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before the few that Mosby led,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unless it was that even the dead<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fought with us then when fighting.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">While Yankee cheers still stunned our ears,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of troops at Harper’s Ferry;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While Sheridan led on his Huns,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Richmond rocked to roaring guns,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We felt the South still had some sons<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She would not scorn to bury.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_237" id="page_237"></a>{237}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="THE_FEUD" id="THE_FEUD"></a>THE FEUD</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Rocks, trees and rocks; and down a mossy stone<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The murmuring ooze and trickle of a stream<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through brambles, where the mountain spring lies lone,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A gleaming cairngorm where the shadows dream,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And one wild road winds like a saffron seam.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Here sang the thrush, whose pure, mellifluous note<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dropped golden sweetness on the fragrant June;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here cat-and blue-bird and wood-sparrow wrote<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Their presence on the silence with a tune;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And here the fox drank ’neath the mountain moon.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Frail ferns and dewy mosses and dark brush,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Impenetrable briers, deep and dense,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And wiry bushes;—brush, that seemed to crush<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The struggling saplings with its tangle, whence<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sprawled out the ramble of an old rail-fence.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_238" id="page_238"></a>{238}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A wasp buzzed by; and then a butterfly<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In orange and amber, like a floating flame;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And then a man, hard-eyed and very sly,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Gaunt-cheeked and haggard and a little lame,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With an old rifle, down the mountain came.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He listened, drinking from a flask he took<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Out of the ragged pocket of his coat;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then all around him cast a stealthy look;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lay down; and watched an eagle soar and float,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His fingers twitching at his hairy throat.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The shades grew longer; and each Cumberland height<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Loomed, framed in splendors of the dolphin dusk.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Around the road a horseman rode in sight;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Young, tall, blond-bearded. Silent, grim, and brusque,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He in the thicket aimed—Quick, harsh, then husk,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The echoes barked among the hills and made<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Repeated instants of the shot’s distress.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then silence—and the trampled bushes swayed:—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Then silence, packed with murder and the press<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of distant hoofs that galloped riderless.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_239" id="page_239"></a>{239}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="LYNCHERS" id="LYNCHERS"></a>LYNCHERS</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">At the moon’s down-going, let it be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On the quarry hill with its one gnarled tree.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The red-rock road of the underbrush,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the woman came through the summer hush.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The sumac high and the elder thick,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where we found the stone and the ragged stick.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The trampled road of the thicket, full<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of footprints down to the quarry pool.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The rocks that ooze with the hue of lead,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where we found her lying stark and dead.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The scraggy wood; the negro hut,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With its doors and windows locked and shut.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_240" id="page_240"></a>{240}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A secret signal; a foot’s rough tramp;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A knock at the door; a lifted lamp.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">An oath; a scuffle; a ring of masks;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A voice that answers a voice that asks.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A group of shadows; the moon’s red fleck;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A running noose and a man’s bared neck.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A word, a curse, and a shape that swings;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The lonely night and a bat’s black wings.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">At the moon’s down-going, let it be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On the quarry hill with its one gnarled tree.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_241" id="page_241"></a>{241}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="DEAD_MANS_RUN" id="DEAD_MANS_RUN"></a>DEAD MAN’S RUN</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He rode adown the autumn wood,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A man dark-eyed and brown;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A mountain girl before him stood<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Clad in a homespun gown.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“To ride this road is death for you!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My father waits you there;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My father and my brother, too—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">You know the oath they swear.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He holds her by one berry-brown wrist,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And by one berry-brown hand;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And he hath laughed at her and kissed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her cheek the sun hath tanned.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“The feud is to the death, sweetheart:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But forward must I ride.”—<br /></span> -<span class="iq">“And if you ride to death, sweetheart,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My place is by your side.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_242" id="page_242"></a>{242}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Low hath he laughed again and kissed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And helped her with his hand;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And they have galloped into the mist<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That belts the autumn land.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And they had passed by Devil’s Den,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And come to Dead Man’s Run,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When in the brush rose up two men,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Each with a levelled gun.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Down! down! my sister!” cries the one;—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She gives the reins a twirl.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The other shouts, “He shot my son!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And now he steals my girl!”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The rifles crack: she will not wail:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He will not cease to ride:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But, oh! her face is pale, is pale,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the red blood stains her side.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Sit fast, sit fast by me, sweetheart!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The road is rough to ride!”—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The road is rough by gulch and bluff,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And her hair blows wild and wide.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Sit fast, sit fast by me, sweetheart!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The bank is steep to ride!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_243" id="page_243"></a>{243}</span>—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The bank is steep for a strong man’s leap,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And her eyes are staring wide.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Sit fast, sit fast by me, sweetheart!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Run is swift to ride!”—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Run is swift with mountain drift,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And she sways from side to side.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Is it a wash of the yellow moss,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or drift of the autumn’s gold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The mountain torrent foams across<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For the dead pine’s roots to hold?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Is it the bark of the sycamore,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or peel of the white birch-tree,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The mountaineer on the other shore<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hath followed and still can see?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No mountain moss or leaves, wild rolled,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No bark of birchen-gray!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Young hair of gold and a face death-cold<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The wild stream sweeps away.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_244" id="page_244"></a>{244}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="THE_RAID" id="THE_RAID"></a>THE RAID</h3> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Far in the forest, where the rude road winds<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through twisted briers and weeds, stamped down and caked<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With mountain mire, the clashing boughs are raked<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Again with rain whose sobbing frenzy blinds.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There is a noise of winds; a gasp and gulp<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of swollen torrents; and the sodden smell<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of woodland soil, dead trees—that long since fell<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Among the moss—red-rotted into pulp.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Fogged by the rain, far up the mountain glen,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Deep in a cave, an elfish wisp of light;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And stealthy shadows stealing through the night<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With strong, set faces of determined men.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_245" id="page_245"></a>{245}</span></p> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">’Twixt fog and fire, in pomps of chrysoprase,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Above vague peaks, the morning hesitates<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ere, o’er the threshold of her golden gates,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Speeds the wild splendor of her chariot’s rays.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A gleaming glimmer in the sun-speared mist,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A cataract, reverberating, falls:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Upon a pine a gray hawk sits and calls,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then soars away no bigger than a fist.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Along the wild path, through the oaks and firs,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Rocks, where the rattler coils himself and suns,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Big-booted, belted, and with twinkling guns,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The posse marches with its moonshiners.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_246" id="page_246"></a>{246}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="THE_BROTHERS" id="THE_BROTHERS"></a>THE BROTHERS</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Not far from here, it lies beyond<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That low-hilled belt of woods. We ’ll take<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This unused lane where brambles make<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A wall of twilight, and the blond<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Brier-roses pelt the path and flake<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The margin waters of a pond.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">This is its fence—or that which was<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its fence once—now, rock rolled from rock,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One tangle of the vine and dock,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where bloom the wild petunias;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And this its gate, the ragweeds block,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hot with the insects’ dusty buzz.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Two wooden posts, wherefrom has peeled<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The weather-blistered paint, still rise;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gaunt things—that groan when some one tries<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The gate whose hinges, rust-congealed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Snarl open:—on each post still lies<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its carven panther with a shield.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_247" id="page_247"></a>{247}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We enter; and between great rows<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of locusts winds a grass-grown road;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And at its glimmering end,—o’erflowed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With quiet light,—the white front shows<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of an old mansion, grand and broad,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With grave, Colonial porticoes.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Grown thick around it, dark and deep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The locust trees make one vast hush;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their brawny branches crowd and crush<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its very casements, and o’ersweep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its rotting roofs: their tranquil rush<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Haunts all its spacious rooms with sleep.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Still is it called The Locusts; though<br /></span> -<span class="i0">None lives here now. A tale ’s to tell<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of some dark thing that here befell;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A crime that happened years ago,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When past its walls, with shot and shell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The war swept on and left it so.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For one black night, within it, shame<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Made revel, while, all here about,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With prayer or curse or battle-shout,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Men died and homesteads leapt in flame:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then passed the conquering Northern rout,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And left it silent and the same.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_248" id="page_248"></a>{248}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Why should I speak of what has been?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or what dark part I played in all?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why ruin sits in porch and hall<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where pride and gladness once were seen;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And why beneath this lichened wall<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The grave of Margaret is green.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Heart-broken Margaret! whose fate<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was sadder far than his who won<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her hand—my brother Hamilton—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or mine, who learned to know too late;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who learned to know, when all was done,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And naught I did could expiate.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To expiate is still my lot!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, like the Ancient Mariner,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To show to others how things were,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And what I am, still helps me blot<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A little from that crime’s red blur,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That on my life is branded hot.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He was my only brother. She<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A sister of my brother’s friend.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They met, and married in the end.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I remember well when he<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Brought her rejoicing home, the trend<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of war moved towards us sullenly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_249" id="page_249"></a>{249}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And scarce a year of wedlock when<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its red arms tore him from his bride.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With lips by hers thrice sanctified<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He left to ride with Morgan’s men.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I—I never could decide—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Remained behind. It happened then.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Long days went by. And, oft delayed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A letter came of loving word<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Scrawled by some camp-fire, sabre-stirred,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or by a pine-knot’s fitful aid,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When in the saddle, armed and spurred<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And booted for some hurried raid.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then weeks went by. I do not know<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How long it was before there came,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blown from the North, the clarion fame<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of Morgan, who, with blow on blow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had drawn a line of blood and flame<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From Tennessee to Ohio.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then letters ceased; and days went on.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No word from him. The war rolled back,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in its turgid crimson track<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A rumor grew, like some wild dawn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All ominous and red and black,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With news of our lost Hamilton.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_250" id="page_250"></a>{250}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">News hinting death or capture. Yet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No word was sure; till one day,—fed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By us,—some men rode up who said<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They’d been with Morgan and had met<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Disaster, and that he was dead,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My brother.—I and Margaret<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Believed them. Grief was ours too:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But mine was more for her than him:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Grief, that her eyes with tears were dim:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Grief, that became the avenue<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For love, who crowned the sombre brim<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of death’s dark cup with rose-red hue.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In sympathy,—unconsciously<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though it be given,—I hold, doth dwell<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The germ of love that time shall swell<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To blossom. Sooner then in me—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When close relations so befell—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That love should spring from sympathy.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Our similar tastes and mutual bents<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Combined to make us intimates<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From our first meeting. Different states<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of interest then our temperaments<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Begot. Then friendship, that abates<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No love, whose soul it represents.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_251" id="page_251"></a>{251}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">These led to talks and dreams: how oft<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We sat at some wide window while<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sun sank o’er the hills’ far file,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Serene; and of the cloud aloft<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Made one vast rose; and mile on mile<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of firmament grew sad and soft.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And all in harmony with these<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dim clemencies of dusk, afar<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our talks and dreams went; while the star<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of evening brightened through the trees:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We spoke of home; the end of war;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We dreamed of life and love and peace.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How on our walks, in listening lanes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or confidences of the wood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We paused to hear the dove that cooed;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or gathered wildflowers, taking pains<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To find the fairest; or her hood<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Filled with wild fruit that left deep stains.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No echo of the drum or fife,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No hint of conflict entered in<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our thoughts then. Will you call it sin—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Indifference to a nation’s strife?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What side might lose, what side might win,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Both immaterial to our life.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_252" id="page_252"></a>{252}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Into the past we did not look:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beyond what was we did not dream;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While onward rolled the thunderous stream<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of war, that, in its torrent, took<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One of our own. No crimson gleam<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of its wild course around us shook.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">At last we knew. And when we learned<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How he had fallen, Margaret<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wept; and, albeit my eyes were wet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Within my soul I half discerned<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A joy that mingled with regret,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A grief that to relief was turned.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">As time went on and confidence<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Drew us more strongly each to each,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why did no intimation reach<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its warning hand into the dense<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Soul-silence, and confuse the speech<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of love’s unbroken eloquence!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But, no! no hint to turn the poise,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or check the impulse of our youth;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To chill it with the living truth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As with the awe of God’s own voice;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No hint, to make our hope uncouth;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No word, to warn us from our choice.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_253" id="page_253"></a>{253}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To me a wall seemed overthrown<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That social law had raised between;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And o’er its ruin, broad and green<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A path went, I possessed alone;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sky above seemed all serene;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The land around seemed all my own.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What shall I say of Margaret<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To justify her part in this?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That her young heart was never his?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But had been mine since first we met?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So would you say!—Enough it is<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That when he left she loved him yet.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So passed the spring, and summer sped;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And early autumn brought the day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When she her hand in mine should lay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I should take her hand and wed:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And still no hint that might gainsay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No warning word of quick or dead.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The day arrived; and with it born,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A battle, sullying the East<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With boom of cannon, that increased,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And throb of musket and of horn:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Until at last, towards dusk, it ceased;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And men with faces wild and worn,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_254" id="page_254"></a>{254}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">In fierce retreat, swept past; now groups;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now one by one: now sternly white,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or blood-stained; now with looks whose fright<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Said all was lost: then sullen troops<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That, beaten, still kept up the fight.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then came the victors: shadowy loops<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Of men and horse, that left a crowd<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of officers in hall and porch....<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While through the land, around, the torch<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Circled, and many a fiery cloud<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Marked out the army’s iron march<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In furrows red that pillage plowed,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Here were we wedded.... Ask the years<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How such could be, while over us<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A sword of wrath swung ominous,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And on our cheeks its breath struck fierce!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All I remember is—’t was thus;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Margaret’s eyes were wet with tears.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No other cause my memory sees<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Save this, <i>that</i> night was set; and when<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I found my home filled with armed men<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With whom were all my sympathies<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of Union—why postpone it then?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So argued conscience into peace.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_255" id="page_255"></a>{255}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And then it was, when night had passed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There came to me an orderly<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With word of a Confederate spy<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Just taken; who, with head downcast,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had asked one favor, this: “That I<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Would see him ere he breathed his last.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I stand alone here. Heavily<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My thoughts go back. Had I not gone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The dead had still been dead! (for none<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had yet believed his story) he,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My dead-deemed brother, Hamilton,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who in the spy confronted me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O you who never have been tried,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How can you judge me!—In my place<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I saw him standing,—who can trace<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My heart-thoughts then!—I turned aside,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A son of some unnatural race,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And did not speak: and so he died....<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In hospital or prison, when<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It was he lay; what had forbid<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His home return so long: amid<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What hardships he had suffered, then<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I dared not ask; and when I did,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Long afterwards, inquire of men,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_256" id="page_256"></a>{256}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">No thing I learned. But this I feel—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He who had so returned to life<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was not a spy. Through stress and strife,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This makes my conscience hard to heal!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He had escaped: he sought his wife;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He sought his home that should conceal.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And Margaret! Oh, pity her!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A criminal I sought her side,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still thinking love was justified<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In all for her—whatever were<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The price: a brother thrice denied,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or thrice a brothers murderer.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Since then long years have passed away.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And through those years, perhaps, you ’ll ask<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How to the world I wore my mask<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of honesty?—I can but say<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beyond my powers it was a task;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before my time it turned me gray.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And when at last the ceaseless hiss<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of conscience drove, and I betrayed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All to her, she knelt down and prayed:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then rose: and ’twixt us an abyss<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was opened; and she seemed to fade<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Out of my life: I came to miss<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_257" id="page_257"></a>{257}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sweet attentions of a bride:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For each appealing heart’s caress<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In me her heart assumed a dress<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of dull indifference; till denied<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To me was all responsiveness;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And then I knew her love had died.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah, had she loaded me, perchance,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With wild reproach or even hate,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Such would have helped me hope and wait<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Forgiveness and returned romance:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But ’twixt our souls, instead, a gate<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She closed of silent tolerance.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet, ’t was for love of her I lent<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My soul to crime.... I question me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Often, if less entirely<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’d loved her, then, in that event<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She had been justified to see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The deed alone stand prominent.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The deed alone! But love records<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In his own heart, I will aver,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No depth I did not feel for her<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beyond the plummet-reach of words:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And though there may be worthier,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No truer love this world affords<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_258" id="page_258"></a>{258}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than mine was, though it could not rise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Above itself. And so ’t was best,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Perhaps, that she saw manifest<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The crime, so I,—as saw her eyes,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Might see; and so, in soul confessed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some life atonement might devise.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sadly my heart one comfort keeps,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That, towards her end, she took my hands<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And said,—as one who understands,—<br /></span> -<span class="iq">“Had I but seen!—But love that weeps<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sees only as its loss commands.”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sighed.—Beneath this stone she sleeps.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yes; I have suffered for that sin:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet in no instance would I shun<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What I should suffer. Many a one,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who heard my tale, has tried to win<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Me to believe that Hamilton<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It was not; and, though proven kin,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">This had not saved him. Still the stain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the intention—had I erred<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And ’t was not he—had writ the word<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Red on my soul that branded Cain:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For still my error had incurred<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The fact of guilt that would remain.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="cdott">. . . . . . . . . . . . .</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_259" id="page_259"></a>{259}</span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah, love at best is insecure,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And lives with doubt and vain regret;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And hope and faith, with faces set<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon the past, are never sure;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And through their fever, grief, and fret<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The heart may fail that should endure.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For in ourselves, however blend<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The passions that make heaven and hell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is evil not accountable<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For most the good we comprehend?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And through these two,—or ill, or well,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Man must evolve his spiritual end.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It is with deeds that we must ask<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Forgiveness: for, upon this earth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Life walks alone from very birth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With death, hope tells us is a mask<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For life beyond of vaster worth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where sin no more sets love a task.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_260" id="page_260"></a>{260}</span></p> - -<h4>EPILOGUE</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza1"> -<span class="i0">Would I could sing of joy I only<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Remember as without alloy:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of life full-filled, that once was lonely:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of love a treasure, not a toy:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of grief, regret but makes the keener,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of aspiration, failure mars—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">These would I sing, and sit serener.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Than song among the stars.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza1"> -<span class="i0">Would I could sing of faith unbroken;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of heart-kept vows, and not of tears:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of promised faith and vows love-spoken,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That have been kept through many years:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of truth, the false but leaves the truer;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of trust, the doubt makes doubly sure—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">These would I sing, the noble doer<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whose dauntless heart is pure.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza1"> -<span class="i0">I would not sing of time made hateful;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of hope that only clings to hate:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of charity, that grows ungrateful;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And pride that will not stand and wait.—<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_261" id="page_261"></a>{261}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of humbleness, care hath imparted;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of resignation, born of ills,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">These would I sing, and stand high-hearted<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As hope upon the hills.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza1"> -<span class="i0">Once on a throne of gold and scarlet<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I touched a harp and felt it break;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I dreamed I was a king—a varlet,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A slave, who only slept to wake!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still on that harp my memory lingers,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">While on a tomb I lean and read,<br /></span> -<span class="iq">“Dust are our songs, and dust we singers,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And dust are all who heed.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_263" id="page_263"></a>{263}</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_262" id="page_262"></a>{262}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="POEMS_OF_LOVE" id="POEMS_OF_LOVE"></a>POEMS OF LOVE</h3> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_264" id="page_264"></a>{264}</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_265" id="page_265"></a>{265}</span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza1"> -<span class="i0">What though I dreamed of mountain heights,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of peaks, the barriers of the world,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Around whose tops the Northern Lights<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And tempests are unfurled!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza1"> -<span class="i0">Mine are the footpaths leading through<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Life’s lowly fields and woods,—with rifts,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Above, of heaven’s Eden blue,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">By which the violet lifts<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza1"> -<span class="i0">Its shy appeal; and, holding up<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Its chaliced gold, like some wild wine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Along the hillside, cup on cup,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Blooms bright the celandine.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza1"> -<span class="i0">Where soft upon each flowering stock<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The butterfly spreads damask wings;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And under grassy loam and rock<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The cottage cricket sings.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza1"> -<span class="i0">Where overhead eve blooms with fire,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In which the new moon bends her bow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, arrow-like, one white star by her<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Burns through the afterglow.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_266" id="page_266"></a>{266}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza1"> -<span class="i0">I care not, so the sesame<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I find; the magic flower there,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose touch unseals each mystery<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In water, earth, and air.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza1"> -<span class="i0">That in the oak tree lets me hear<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Its heart’s deep speech, its soul’s dim words;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And to my mind makes crystal clear<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The messages of birds.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza1"> -<span class="i0">Why should I care, who live aloof<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beyond the din of life and dust,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While dreams still share my humble roof,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And love makes sweet my crust.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_267" id="page_267"></a>{267}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="GERTRUDE" id="GERTRUDE"></a>GERTRUDE</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When first I gazed on Gertrude’s face,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beheld her loveliness and grace;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her brave gray eyes, her raven hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her ways, more winsome than the spring’s;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her smile, like some sweet flower, that flings<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its fragrance on the summer air;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when, like some wild-bird that sings,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I heard her voice,—I did declare,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And still declare!—there is no one,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No girl beneath the moon or sun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So beautiful to look upon!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And to my heart, as I know well,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nothing seems more desirable,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not Ophir gold, nor Orient pearls—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than seems this jewel-girl of girls.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_268" id="page_268"></a>{268}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="LOVE" id="LOVE"></a>LOVE</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For him, who loves, each mounting morn<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Breathes melody more sweet than birds’;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And every wind-stirred flower and thorn<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Whispers melodious words:—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Would you believe that everything<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through <i>her</i> loved voice is made to sing?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For her, the faultless skies of day<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Grow nearer in eternal blue,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where God is felt as wind and ray,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And seen as fire and dew:—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Would you believe that all the skies<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are Heaven only through <i>his</i> eyes?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For them, the dreams that haunt the night<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With mystic beauty and romance,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are presences of starry light,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And moony radiance:—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Would you believe this love of theirs<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Could make for them a universe?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_269" id="page_269"></a>{269}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="HEART_OF_MY_HEART" id="HEART_OF_MY_HEART"></a>HEART OF MY HEART</h3> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Here where the season turns the land to gold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Among the fields our feet have known of old,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When we were children who would laugh and run,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Glad little playmates of the wind and sun,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before came toil and care and years went ill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And one forgot and one remembered still;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heart of my heart, among the old fields here,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Give me your hands and let me draw you near,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Heart of my heart.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Stars are not truer than your soul is true;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What need I more of heaven then than you?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flowers are not sweeter than your face is sweet—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What need I more to make my world complete?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_270" id="page_270"></a>{270}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">O woman nature, love that still endures,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What strength hath ours that is not born of yours?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heart of my heart, to you, whatever come,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To you the lead, whose love hath led me home.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Heart of my heart.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_271" id="page_271"></a>{271}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="STROLLERS" id="STROLLERS"></a>STROLLERS</h3> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i3">We have no castles,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">We have no vassals,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We have no riches, no gems and no gold:<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Nothing to ponder;<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Nothing to squander—<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Let us go wander<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As minstrels of old.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i3">You with your lute, love;<br /></span> -<span class="i3">I with my flute, love,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let us make music by mountain and sea:<br /></span> -<span class="i3">You with your glances,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">I with my dances,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Singing romances<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of old chivalry.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_272" id="page_272"></a>{272}</span></p> - -<h4>III</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i3a">“Derry down derry!<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Good folk, be merry!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hither! and hearken where happiness is!<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Never go borrow<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Care of to-morrow,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Never go sorrow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While life hath a kiss!”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>IV</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i3">Let the day gladden,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Or the night sadden,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We will be merry in sunshine or snow:<br /></span> -<span class="i3">You with your rhyme, love,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">I with my chime, love,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">We will make Time, love,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dance as we go.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>V</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i3">Nothing is ours;<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Only the flowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Meadows, and stars, and the heavens above:<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Nothing to lie for,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Nothing to sigh for,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Nothing to die for<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While still we have love.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_273" id="page_273"></a>{273}</span></p> - -<h4>VI</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i3a">“Derry down derry!<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Good folk, be merry!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hither! and hearken a word that is sooth:—<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Care ye not any,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">If ye have many,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Or not a penny,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If still ye have youth!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_274" id="page_274"></a>{274}</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><a name="THE_BURDEN_OF_DESIRE" id="THE_BURDEN_OF_DESIRE"></a>THE BURDEN OF DESIRE</h3> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In some dim way I know thereof:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A garden glows down in my heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wherein I meet and often part<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With many an ancient tale of love.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A Romeo garden, banked with bloom,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And trellised with the eglantine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In which a rose climbs to a room,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A balcony one mass of vine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dim, haunted of perfume.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A balcony, whereon she gleams,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The soft Desire of all Dreams,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And smiles and bends like Juliet,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Year after year,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While to her side, all dewy wet,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A rose stuck in his ear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Love climbs to draw her near.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_275" id="page_275"></a>{275}</span></p> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And in another way I know,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Down in my soul a graveyard lies,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wherein I meet, in ghostly wise,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With many an ancient tale of woe.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A graveyard of the Capulets,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Deep-vaulted with ancestral gloom,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through whose dark yews the moonlight jets<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On many a wildly carven tomb,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That mossy mildew frets.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A graveyard where the Soul’s Desire<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sleeps, pale-entombed; and, kneeling by her,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love, like that hapless Montague,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Year after year,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Weary and worn and wild of hue,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Within her sepulchre,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Falls bleeding on her bier.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_276" id="page_276"></a>{276}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="THE_TRYST" id="THE_TRYST"></a>THE TRYST</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">At dusk there fell a shower:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The leaves were dripping yet:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each fern and rain-weighed flower<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Around was gleaming wet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When, through the evening glower,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His feet towards her were set.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The dust’s damp odor sifted<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Around him, cool with rain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mixed with the musk that drifted<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From woodland and from plain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where white her garden lifted<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Its pickets down the lane.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And there she stood! ’mid scattered<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Clove-pink and pea and whorl<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of honeysuckle,—flattered<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To sweetness wild,—a girl,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O’er whom the clouds hung shattered<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In moonlit peaks of pearl.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_277" id="page_277"></a>{277}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She made the night completer<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For him; and earth and air,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In that small spot, far sweeter<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Than heaven or anywhere.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Swift were his lips to greet her,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her lips love lifted there.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_278" id="page_278"></a>{278}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="GYPSYING" id="GYPSYING"></a>GYPSYING</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Your heart ’s a-tune with April and mine a-tune with June,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So let us go a-roving beneath the summer moon.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh, was it in the sunlight, or was it in the rain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We met among the blossoms within the locust lane?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All that I can remember ’s the bird that sang aboon,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And with its music in our hearts we ’ll rove beneath the moon.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A love-word of the wind, dear, of which we ’ll read the rune,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While we two go a-roving beneath the summer moon.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A love-word of the water we ’ll often stop to hear—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The echoed words and whispers of our own hearts, my dear.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_279" id="page_279"></a>{279}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all our paths shall blossom with wild-rose sweets that swoon,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And with their fragrance in our hearts we ’ll rove beneath the moon.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It will not be forever; yet merry goes the tune<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While we two still are rovers beneath the summer moon.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A cabin, in the clearing, of flickering firelight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When old-time lanes we strolled in the winter snows make white:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where we can dream together above the logs and croon<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The songs we sang when roving beneath the summer moon.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_280" id="page_280"></a>{280}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="UNCERTAINTY" id="UNCERTAINTY"></a>UNCERTAINTY<br /><br /> -“<i>‘He cometh not,’ she said.</i>”—Mariana.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It will not be to-day and yet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I think and dream it will; and let<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The slow uncertainty devise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So many sweet excuses, met<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With the old doubt in hope’s disguise.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The panes were sweated with the dawn;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet through their dimness, shriveled drawn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The aigret of one princess-feather,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One monk’s-hood tuft with oilets wan,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I glimpsed, dead in the slaying weather.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">This morning when my window’s chintz<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I drew, how gray the day was!—Since<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I saw him, yea, all days are gray!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I gazed out on my dripping quince,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Defruited, torn; then turned away<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_281" id="page_281"></a>{281}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">To weep, but did not weep: but felt<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A colder anguish than did melt<br /></span> -<span class="i0">About the tearful-visaged Year!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then flung the lattice wide and smelt<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The autumn sorrow. Rotting near<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The rain-drenched sunflowers bent and bleached,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Up which the frost-nipped gourd-vines reached<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And morning-glories, seeded o’er<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With ashen aiglets; whence beseeched<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One last bloom, frozen to the core.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The podded hollyhocks—that Fall<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had stripped of finery—by the wall<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rustled their tatters; dripped and dripped,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The fog thick on them: near them, all<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The tarnished, hag-like zinnias tipped.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I felt the death and loved it: yea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To have it nearer, sought the gray,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Chill, fading garth. Yet could not weep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But wandered in an aimless way,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And yearned with weariness to sleep.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Mine were the fog, the frosty stalks,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The weak lights on the leafy walks,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The shadows shivering with the cold;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The breaking heart; the lonely talks;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The last, dim, ruined marigold.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_282" id="page_282"></a>{282}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But when, to-night, the moon swings low—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A great marsh-marigold of glow—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all my garden with the sea<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Moans, then, through moon and mist, I know<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His ghost will come to comfort me.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_283" id="page_283"></a>{283}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="LOST_LOVE" id="LOST_LOVE"></a>LOST LOVE</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I loved her madly. For—so wrought<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Young Love, divining Isles of Truth<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Large in the central seas of Youth—<br /></span> -<span class="iq">“Love will win love,” I thought.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Once when I brought a rare wild pink<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To place among her plants, the wise,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Soft lifting of her speaking eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Said more than thanks, I think....<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She loved another.—Yes, I know<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All you would say of woman. You,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like other men, would comfort too....<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But then I loved her so.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She loved another.—Ah! too well<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I know the story of her soul!—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A weary tale the weary whole<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of how she loved and fell.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_284" id="page_284"></a>{284}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I loved her so!... Remembering now<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My mad grief then, I wonder why<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Grief never kills.... I could not die.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She died—I know not how.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Strange, is it not? For she was dear<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To me as life once.—A regret<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She is now; just to make eyes wet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And bring a fullness here.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet, had she lived as dead in shame<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As now in death, Love would have used<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Pride’s pitying pencil and abused<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The memory of her name.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">This helps me thank my God, who led<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My broken life in sunlight of<br /></span> -<span class="i2">This pure affection, that my love<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lives through her being dead.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_285" id="page_285"></a>{285}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="OVERSEAS" id="OVERSEAS"></a>OVERSEAS<br /><br /> -<i>Non numero horas nisi serenas.</i></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When fall drowns morns in mist, it seems<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In soul I am a part of it;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A portion of its humid beams,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A form of fog, I seem to flit<br /></span> -<span class="i4">From dreams to dreams.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">An old chateau sleeps ’mid the hills<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of France: an avenue of sorbs<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Conceals it: drifts of daffodils<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Bloom by a ’scutcheoned gate with barbs<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Like iron bills.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I pass the gate unquestioned, yet,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I feel, announced. Broad holm-oaks make<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dark pools of restless violet.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Between high bramble banks a lake,—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">As in a net.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_286" id="page_286"></a>{286}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The tangled scales twist silver,—shines ...<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Gray, mossy turrets swell above<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A sea of leaves. And where the pines<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shade ivied walls, there lies my love,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">My heart divines.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I know her window, dimly seen<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From distant lanes with hawthorn hedged:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her garden, with the nectarine<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Espaliered, and the peach-tree, wedged<br /></span> -<span class="i4">’Twixt walls of green.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Cool-babbling a fountain falls<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From gryphons’ mouths in porphyry;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Carp haunt its waters; and white balls<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of lilies dip it that the bee<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Sucks in and drawls.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And butterflies, each with a face<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of faëry on its wings, that seem<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beheaded pansies, softly chase<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Each other down the gloom and gleam<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Trees interspace.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And roses! roses, soft as vair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Round sylvan statues and the old<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stone dial—Pompadours that wear<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Their royalty of purple and gold<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With queenly air....<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_287" id="page_287"></a>{287}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Her scarf, her lute, whose ribbons breathe<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The perfume of her touch; her gloves,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Modeling the daintiness they sheathe;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her fan, a Watteau, gay with loves,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Lie there beneath<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A bank of eglantines that heaps<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A rose-strewn shadow.—Naïve-eyed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With lips as suave as they, she sleeps;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The romance by her, open wide,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">O’er which she weeps.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_288" id="page_288"></a>{288}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="AT_THE_STILE" id="AT_THE_STILE"></a>AT THE STILE</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Young Harry leapt over the stile and kissed her,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Over the stile when the sun was sinking;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’T was only Carrie; just Mary’s sister!—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And love hath a way of thinking.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Thy pail, sweetheart, I will take and carry.”<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Over the stile one star hung yellow.—<br /></span> -<span class="iq">“Just to the spring, my dearest Harry.”—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Love is a heartless fellow.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Thou saidst me ‘yea’ in an April shower<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Under this tree with leaves a-quiver.”—<br /></span> -<span class="iq">“I say thee nay now the cherry ’s in flower,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And love is taker and giver.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“O false! thou art false to me, sweetheart!”—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The light in her eyes grew trist and trister:<br /></span> -<span class="iq">“To thee, the stars, and myself, sweetheart,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I never was aught but Mary’s sister.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_289" id="page_289"></a>{289}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Sweet Mary’s sister! just little Carrie!—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But what avail my words or weeping?—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Next month, perhaps, you two will marry—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And I in my grave be sleeping.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Alone she stands ’mid the meadow millet,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wan as the petals the wind is strewing:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some tears in her pail as she stoops to fill it—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And love hath a way of doing.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_290" id="page_290"></a>{290}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="FERN-SEED" id="FERN-SEED"></a>FERN-SEED<br /><br /> -“<i>We have the receipt of fern-seed; we walk invisible.</i>”—Henry IV.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And you and I have met but thrice!—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Three times enough to make me love!—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I praised your hair once; then your glove;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your eyes; your gown—you were like ice.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And yet this might suffice, my love,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And yet this might suffice.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I know now what it is I’ll do:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I’ll search and find the ferns that grow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The fern-seed that the fairies know,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sprinkle fern-seed in my shoe,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And haunt the steps of you, my dear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And haunt the steps of you.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You ’ll see the poppy-pods dip here,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The blow-ball of the thistle slip,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And no wind breathing—but my lip<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Next to your anxious cheek and ear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To tell you I am near, my love,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To tell you I am near.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_291" id="page_291"></a>{291}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">On wood-ways I will tread your gown—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">You ’ll know it is no brier!—then<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I’ll whisper words of love again,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And smile to see your quick face frown;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And then I ’ll kiss it down, my dear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And then I ’ll kiss it down.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You ’ll sit at home and read or knit,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When suddenly the page is blotted—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My hands!—or all your needles knotted:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in your rage you ’ll cry a bit:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But I—I ’ll laugh at it, my love,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But I—I ’ll laugh at it.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The secrets which you say at prayer<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I too will hear; or, when you sing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I too will sing, and whispering<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bend down and kiss your eyes and hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And you will know me there, my dear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And you will know me there.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Would it were true what people say!—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Would I <i>could</i> find that faëry seed!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Then would I win your love, indeed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By being near you night and day:—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There is no other way, my love,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There is no other way.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_292" id="page_292"></a>{292}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="PORPHYROGENITA" id="PORPHYROGENITA"></a>PORPHYROGENITA</h3> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Was it when Kriemhild was queen<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That we rode by ways forgotten<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through the Rhineland, dimly seen<br /></span> -<span class="i2">’Neath a low moon white as cotton?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I, a knight? or troubadour?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou, a princess?—or a poor<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Damsel of the Royal Closes?—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For, I met thee—somewhere sure!...<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Was it ’mid Kriemhilda’s roses?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Or in Venice, by the sea?—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What romance grew up between us?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou, a doge’s daughter?—She,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Titian painted once as Venus?—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I, a gondolier whose barque<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Glided past thy palace dark?—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Near St. Mark’s? or Casa d’Oro?—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From thy casement didst thou hark<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To my barcarolle’s “<i>Te oro</i>”?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_293" id="page_293"></a>{293}</span></p> - -<h4>III</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Klaia wast, of Egypt: yea,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Languid as its sacred lily.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Didst with me a year and day<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Love upon the Isle of Philæ?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I, a priest of Isis?—Sweet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Neath the date-palms did we meet<br /></span> -<span class="i2">By a temple’s pillared marble?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While, from its star-still retreat,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sank the nightingale’s wild warble?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>IV</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Have I dreamed that I, thy slave,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From thy lattice, my sultana,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beckoning, thy white hand did wave,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dropped me once a rose? sweet manna<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of thy kiss warm in its heart?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That, through my Chaldæan art,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With thy Khalif’s bags of treasure,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From Damascus we did start,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fled to some far land of pleasure?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>V</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Was I one? another thou?—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Let it be. What of it, dearest?—<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_294" id="page_294"></a>{294}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Haply ’tis the memory now<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of these passions dead thou fearest?—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nay! those loves are portions of,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Evolutions of this love,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Present love, where thou appearest<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To combine them all and prove.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_295" id="page_295"></a>{295}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="THE_CASTLE_OF_LOVE" id="THE_CASTLE_OF_LOVE"></a>THE CASTLE OF LOVE<br /><br /> -<i>He speaks</i></h3> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now listen! ’tis time that you knew it.—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like the prince in the Asian tale,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I wandered on deserts that panted<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With noon to a castle enchanted,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That Afrits had built in a vale;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A vale where the sunlight lay pale<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As moonlight. And round it and through it<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I searched and I searched. Like the tale,<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No eunuch, black-browed as a Marid,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Prevented me. Shadows it seemed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Were the slaves there, with kohl and with henné<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In eyes and on fingers; and many<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The phantoms of beauty, that dreamed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where censers of ambergris steamed.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I came on a colonnade, quarried<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From silvery marble it seemed.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_296" id="page_296"></a>{296}</span></p> - -<h4>III</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And here, in a court, wide, estraded,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Rich tulips, like carbuncles, bloomed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And jonquils and roses:—and lories,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And cockatoos, brilliant in glories<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of plumes, like great blossoms illumed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Winged, splashed in a fountain perfumed:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Kept captive by network of braided,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Spun gold where stone galleries gloomed.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>IV</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">From nipples of back-bending Peris<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of gold, glowing auburn, in rays<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The odorous fountain sprang calling:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I heard through the white water’s falling,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As soft as the zephyr that plays<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With moonlight on bloom-haunted ways,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A music; a sound, as if fairies<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Touched wind-harps whose chords were of rays.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>V</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I followed: through corridors paneled<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With sandal; through doorways deep-draped<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With stuffs of Chosroës, rich-garded<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_297" id="page_297"></a>{297}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">With Indian gold; up the corded<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Stone stairway, bronze-dragoned, wing-shaped:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through moon-spangled hangings escaped—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Twixt pillars of juniper channeled—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To a room constellated and draped.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>VI</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">As in legends of witchcraft: a vassal<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of visions beholds naught yet hears<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweet voices that call and he follows,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So me, like the fragrance of aloes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That chamber with song, it appears,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Surrounded; the song of the spheres ...<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My soul found your soul such a castle—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your love is the music it hears.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_298" id="page_298"></a>{298}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="CONSECRATION" id="CONSECRATION"></a>CONSECRATION<br /><br /> -<i>She speaks.</i></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Last night you told me, where we, parting, waited,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of love somehow I’d known before you told.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Long, long ago, perhaps, this love was fated,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For why was it made suddenly so old?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Is it because the love we have and cherish<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Born with us seems, and as ourselves shall last?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Part of our lives, we can not let it perish<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Out of our present’s future or its past?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet, all was changed; and, still, I did not wonder<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That, robed in vaster splendor, broke the dawn:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor marvel that, beside my feet and under,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Each flower seemed fairer than the flower gone.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_299" id="page_299"></a>{299}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The wild bird’s silvery warble seemed completer;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A whiter magic filled the morn and noon,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And night—each night!—seemed holier grown and sweeter<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With Babylonian witchcraft of the moon.—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Is love an emanation? whose ideal<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Communicates its beauty?—Is it moved<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through some strange means to consecrate the real?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Making the world the worthier to be loved?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_300" id="page_300"></a>{300}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="ROMANTIC_LOVE" id="ROMANTIC_LOVE"></a>ROMANTIC LOVE</h3> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Is it not sweet to know?—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The moon hath told me so—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That in some lost romance, love,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Long lost to us below,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A knight with casque and lance, love,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A thousand years ago,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I kissed you from a trance, love?—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The moon hath told me so.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Or were it strange to wis?—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The stars have told me this—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That once a nightingale, love,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sang on an Isle of Greece;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From whose melodious wail, love,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its song’s wild harmonies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was born a spirit-woman—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yourself! whom I, a human,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Made mine!... So goes the tale, love!—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The stars have told me this.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_301" id="page_301"></a>{301}</span></p> - -<h4>III</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Is it not quaint to tell?—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The flowers remember well—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How once a wild-rose blew, love,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dim in a haunted dell;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To which a bee was true, love.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The bee, so it befell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was <i>I</i>: the rose was <i>you</i>, love!...<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The flowers remember well.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>IV</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To moon and flower and star<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We are not what we are.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sometimes, from o’er that sea, love,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose golden sands are far,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From shores of Destiny, love,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The dreams that know no bar,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Will waft a truth that glistens<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To Memory who listens,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Reminding you and me, love,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We are not what we are.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_302" id="page_302"></a>{302}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="PASTORAL_LOVE" id="PASTORAL_LOVE"></a>PASTORAL LOVE</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The pied pinks tilt in the wind that worries—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sing, Oh, the wind and the red o’ her cheek!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the slow sun creeps on the rye nor hurries—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And what shall a lover speak?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The toad-flax brightens the flaxen hollows—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sing, Ay, the bloom and her yellow hair!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the greenwood brook a wood-way follows—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And what shall a lover dare?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The deep woods gleam that the sunlight sprinkles—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sing, Hey, the day and her laughing eye!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And a brown bird pipes and a wild fall tinkles—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And what may a maid reply?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_303" id="page_303"></a>{303}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hey, the hills when the evening settles!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Oh, the heavens within her eyes!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What will he ask ’mid the dropping petals?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And what will she say with sighs?—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Look, where the west is a blur of roses!”—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">“There’s naught like the rose o’ the cheeks I see!”—<br /></span> -<span class="iq">“Look, where the first star’s eye uncloses!”—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">“But what of <i>your</i> eyes, my destiny?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_304" id="page_304"></a>{304}</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><a name="ANDALIA_AND_THE_SPRINGTIME" id="ANDALIA_AND_THE_SPRINGTIME"></a>ANDALIA AND THE SPRINGTIME</h3> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Blow, winds, and waken her!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">You, who have taken her,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Never forsaken her,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Filled her with spring!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My mad and merriest<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Part of the veriest<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Season and cheeriest:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Blow, winds! and sing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Birds of the spring! that taught her<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Airs of the woods; this daughter<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wild of the winds, that waft her<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Into my heart with laughter,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Wild as a wildwood thing.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">She, who is fraught with it,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thrilled with it, brought with it,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Spring!—like a thought, with it<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Beautiful too!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_305" id="page_305"></a>{305}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i2">Now like a dream of it;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Filled with the gleam of it;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Now a bright beam of it,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Piercing me through,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweet, with her eyes that are often<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Laughter and languor; that soften<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dreamily, drowsily, slowly,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then, on a sudden, are wholly<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Dancing as dew.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>III</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Face,—like the sweetest of<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Perfumes,—completest of<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Flowers God’s fleetest of<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Months ever bear!—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Listen, O lisper wind,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lighter and crisper wind,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Have you a whisper, wind,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Soft as her hair?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Night and the stars did spin it;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Darkness and brightness are in it:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let but a ray of it bind me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wrap it around me and wind me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blind as the blind are and blinder,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet through my heart would I find her,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Lost though I were.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_306" id="page_306"></a>{306}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="OLIVIA_IN_THE_AUTUMN" id="OLIVIA_IN_THE_AUTUMN"></a>OLIVIA IN THE AUTUMN</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Not redder than her lips<br /></span> -<span class="i2">This weather!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not rosier two rose-hips<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Together!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As she comes carolling<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Down wildwood ways, where sing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The birds, and flowers swing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In many a feather.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Of her belovéd cheeks<br /></span> -<span class="i2">October<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Makes flame-flushed leaves, and speaks,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Now sober,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now wild,—its happiness<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In gold, and on her dress<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lays many a bright caress<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As if to robe her.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The wild-birds praise her eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Each hour;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Above her bend the skies<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And shower<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_307" id="page_307"></a>{307}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Around her, there and here,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Strays of the passing year,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Azure and gold and sere<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of weed and flower.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The wood-winds kiss her hair<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And wonder<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What flower blossoms there:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And, under<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its deeps of acorn-brown,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her glory and her crown,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sunbeams lay them down,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And dream and ponder.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And I—I take her hands,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her lover;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And kiss her where she stands;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And over<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our heads the soft winds call,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And heav’n smiles down; and all<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The golden dreams of Fall<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Around us hover.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_308" id="page_308"></a>{308}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="SYLVIA_OF_THE_WOODLAND" id="SYLVIA_OF_THE_WOODLAND"></a>SYLVIA OF THE WOODLAND</h3> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O you, who know our Mays that blow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The bluets by the ways;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Indian-pink,—whose bloom you ’d think<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was blood for some wild bee to drink,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How—can you say—in their wise way<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is it you ’re like our Mays?—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In gleam and gloom and wild perfume<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of moods that run from shade to sun:—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While in you seems the light that dreams<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In thoughts of other days.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Meseems some song, for which I long,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From you to me takes wing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each time you speak; a bird, whose beak<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is in my heart; whose wildwood art<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Makes every beat say “Sweet, sweet, sweet,”<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And all its pulses sing.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_309" id="page_309"></a>{309}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when I gaze upon your face,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I seem to look into a brook,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That laughs through buds and leafing woods,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Reflecting all the spring.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>III</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You spoke but now—and, lo! I vow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From haunts of hart and hind<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I seemed to hear Romance draw near,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">White hand in hand with Song, and stand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In some green aisle of wood, and smile,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beguiling soul and mind:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You laugh—and, lo! I seem to go<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In Mirth’s young train; and bird-songs rain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Around, above; and Joy and Love<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Come dancing down the wind.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_310" id="page_310"></a>{310}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="WITNESSES" id="WITNESSES"></a>WITNESSES</h3> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You say I do not love you!—Tell me why,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When I have gazed a little on your face,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And then gone forth into the world of men,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A beauty, neither of the earth nor sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A glamour, that transforms each common place,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Attends my spirit then?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You say I do not love you!—Yet, I know,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When I have heard you speak and dwelt upon<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your words a while, my heart has gone away<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Filled with strange music, very soft and low,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A dim companion, touching with sweet tone<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The discords of the day.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>III</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You say I do not love you!—Yet, it seems,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When I have kissed your hand and said farewell,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_311" id="page_311"></a>{311}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">A fragrance, wilder than the wood’s wild bloom,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Companions dim my soul and fills, with dreams,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sad and sordid streets where people dwell,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dreams of spring’s wild perfume.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_312" id="page_312"></a>{312}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="A_PUPIL_OF_PAN" id="A_PUPIL_OF_PAN"></a>A PUPIL OF PAN</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My love’s adorable and wise<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As heaven and the winds of spring:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Go thou and gaze into her eyes—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Such scholars of the starry skies!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—Canst marvel at the thing?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My love is like a bud that blows<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With fragrant honey in its heart:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Go, watch her smile—Wouldst not suppose<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She from some warm, white, serious rose<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Had learned the happy art?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The thoughts she speaks are pearls unstrung<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That strew her fancy’s golden floor:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Go listen—For, the woods among,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She met with Pan, when very young,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who taught her all his lore.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_313" id="page_313"></a>{313}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="LORA_OF_THE_VALES" id="LORA_OF_THE_VALES"></a>LORA OF THE VALES</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Lora is her name that slips<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Soft as love between the lips:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You must know she is so wise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All she does is lift her eyes,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Larkspur-blue as April skies,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At her name—and that replies—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She ’s so wise, is Lora.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Lora is her name whose sound<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hedges all my heart around<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With the gold of happiness:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When she speaks, you will confess,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Music’s self her words express,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Every vowel a caress—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She ’s so kind, is Lora.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Lora is her name that brings<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thoughts to me of morning things:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Songs of birds; of bees that creep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the rumpled bluebells deep;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Butterflies, that, half asleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On some rose their vigil keep—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She ’s so young, is Lora.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_314" id="page_314"></a>{314}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Lora, lean to mine your face;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So; and round you let me lace<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One firm arm, and gently woo<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your small mouth, as fresh as dew,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till it says your heart is true,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">True to me as mine to you,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sunny-hearted Lora!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_315" id="page_315"></a>{315}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="PLEDGES" id="PLEDGES"></a>PLEDGES</h3> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What the May-apple or<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Woodland anemone—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Star-perfect as a star—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Says to the honey-bee:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or to the winds that woo,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Filling their hearts with dew:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What says the bluet’s blue<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the sun’s ray—do you<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Know or do I?—<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Listen, and you may hear<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What the oxalis says<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Into the downy ear<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of the pale moth that sways<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There on its heart and drinks:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or what the forest-pinks<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Say to the dew that winks,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Butterfly-wing that blinks—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Glimmering by.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_316" id="page_316"></a>{316}</span></p> - -<h4>III</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They say: “When April trod<br /></span> -<span class="i2">By in a blowing blush,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wise as a word of God<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Holding all Heaven a-hush,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Singing a song of love,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We, as she passed above,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sprang from the notes thereof,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Filling with joy each grove,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beauty and mystery.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_317" id="page_317"></a>{317}</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><a name="ORIENTAL_ROMANCE" id="ORIENTAL_ROMANCE"></a>ORIENTAL ROMANCE</h3> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Beyond lost seas of summer she<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dwelt on an island of the sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Last scion of that dynasty,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Queen of a race forgotten long,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With eyes of light and lips of song,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From seaward groves of blowing lemon,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She called me in her native tongue,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Low-leaned on some rich robe of Yemen.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I was a king. Three moons we drove<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Across green gulfs, the crimson clove<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And cassia spiced, to claim her love.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Packed was my barque with gums and gold;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rich fabrics; sandalwood, grown old<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With odor; gems; and pearls of Oman,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than her white breasts less white and cold;—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And myrrh, less fragrant than this woman.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_318" id="page_318"></a>{318}</span></p> - -<h4>III</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">From Bassora I came. We saw<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her condor castle on a claw<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of soaring precipice, o’erawe<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The surge and thunder of the spray:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like some great opal, far away<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It shone, with battlement and spire,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wherefrom, with wild aroma, day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blew splintered lights of sapphirine fire.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>IV</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Lamenting caverns, dark and deep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That catacombed the haunted steep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Led upward to her castle-keep ...<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fair as the moon, whose light is shed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In Ramadan, was she, who led<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My love unto her island bowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To find her ... lying young and dead<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Among her maidens and her flowers.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_319" id="page_319"></a>{319}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="THE_TOLLMANS_DAUGHTER" id="THE_TOLLMANS_DAUGHTER"></a>THE TOLLMAN’S DAUGHTER</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She stood waist-deep among the briers:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Above, in twisted lengths, were rolled<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The sunset’s tangled whorls of gold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blown from the west’s cloud-pillared fires.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in the hush, no sound did mar,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">You almost heard, o’er hill and dell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Deep, bubbling over, star on star,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The night’s blue cisterns slowly well.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A crane, a shadowy crescent, crossed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The sunset, winging ’thwart the west;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">While up the east her silver breast<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of light the moon brought, white as frost.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So have I painted her, you see,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The tollman’s daughter.—What an arm<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And throat were hers! and what a form!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—Art dreams of such divinity.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What braids of night to smooth and kiss!—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There is no pigment anywhere<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A man might use to picture this—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The splendor of her raven hair.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_320" id="page_320"></a>{320}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">A face as beautiful and bright,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As rosy fair as twilight skies,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lit with the stars of hazel eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And eyebrowed black with penciled night.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For her, I know, where’er she trod<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Each dewdrop raised a looking-glass,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To catch her image, from the grass;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That wildflowers bloomed along the sod,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And whispered perfume when she smiled;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The wood-bird hushed to hear her song,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or, heart-enamoured, tame though wild,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Before her feet flew fluttering long:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The brook went mad with melody,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Eddied in laughter when she kissed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With naked feet its amethyst—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I—she was my world, ah me!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_321" id="page_321"></a>{321}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="CREOLE_SERENADE" id="CREOLE_SERENADE"></a>CREOLE SERENADE</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Under moss-draped oak and pine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Murmuring, falls the fountained stream;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In its pool the lilies shine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Silvery, each a glimmering gleam.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Roses bloom and roses die<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the warm rose-scented dark,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the firefly, like an eye,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Winks and glows, a golden spark.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Amber-belted through the night<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Drifts the alabaster moon,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like a big magnolia white<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On the fragrant heart of June.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">With a broken syrinx there,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With bignonia overgrown,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is it Pan in hoof and hair?—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or his image carved from stone?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_322" id="page_322"></a>{322}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">See! her casement’s jessamines part;—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through their stars and swooning scent<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like the moon she leans. O heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">’T is another firmament!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4><i>Sings</i>:</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The dim verbena drugs the dusk<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With lemon odors; everywhere<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wan heliotropes breathe drowsy musk<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Into the jasmine-heavy air;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The moss-rose bursts its dewy husk<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And spills its attar there.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The orange at thy casement flings<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Star-censers oozing rich perfumes;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The clematis, long-petaled, swings<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Deep clusters of dark purple blooms;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With flowers, like moons or sylphide wings,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Magnolias light the glooms.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Awake, awake from sleep!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Thy balmy hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Unbounden, deep on deep,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Like blossoms there,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That dew and fragrance weep,—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Will fill the night with prayer.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Awake, awake from sleep!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_323" id="page_323"></a>{323}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And dreaming here it seems to me<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A dryad’s bosom grows confessed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nude in the dark magnolia tree,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That rustles with the murmurous West—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or is it but some bloom I see,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">White as thy virgin breast?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Through Southern heavens above are rolled<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A million feverish stars, that burst,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like gems, from out the caskets old<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of night, with fires that throb and thirst:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An oleander, showering gold,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The heav’n seems, star-immersed.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Unseal, unseal thine eyes!—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Too long her rod<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Queen Mab sways o’er their skies<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In realms of Nod!—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Their starry majesties<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Will fill the night with God.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Unseal, unseal thine eyes!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_324" id="page_324"></a>{324}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="IDEAL_DIVINATION" id="IDEAL_DIVINATION"></a>IDEAL DIVINATION</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How I have thought of her,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her I have never seen!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now from a raying air<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She, like the Magdalene,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flowers—a face serene,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Radiant with raven hair.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now in a balsam scent<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Laughs from the stars that gleam;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Naked and redolent,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Bends to me breasts of beam,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Eyes that were made to dream,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Throat that the dimples dent.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Would she were real, ah me!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Would she were real and here!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And no “impossible she”!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But one to draw me near,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hold me and name me dear!—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But, that can never be!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_325" id="page_325"></a>{325}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Living, each learns to know<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Life is not worth its pain;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Loving, each finds a woe<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or, at the end, a chain:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fardled of hope we strain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whither no hope may know.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Life is too credulous<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of time that beckons on.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Memory still serves us thus—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Gauging each coming dawn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By a day dead and gone,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Day that ’s a part of us.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So says my soul, that ’s mocked<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Here of the flesh and held;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ever rebellion rocked,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fighting, forever quelled;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Titan-like, fate-compelled,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yearning to rise, but locked<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Supine where torrents pour<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hellward; on crags that, high,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Scarred of the thunder, gore<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Heaven.... The vulture’s eye<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Swims, and the harpies’ cry<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Clangs through the ocean’s roar....<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_326" id="page_326"></a>{326}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then, like æolian light,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Calling, it hears her lips:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Scorched by her burning white<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Splendor of arms and hips,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Slimy each horror slips<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Back to its native night....<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Rul’st thou some brighter star?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Inviolable queen<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of what the destinies are?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thou, with thy light unseen<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Filling my life with sheen,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Leading my soul afar!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou, who oft leav’st thy skies,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Comest in dreams to me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With amaranthine eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Asphodel shadowy<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hair, and mysteriously<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Say’st to my heart, “Arise!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Be not afraid to dare<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All of life’s tyranny!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I will reward thee there!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There, where my love shall be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thine to eternity!—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Only be brave and bear!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_327" id="page_327"></a>{327}</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><a name="APOCALYPSE" id="APOCALYPSE"></a>APOCALYPSE</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Before I found her I had found<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Within my heart, as in a brook,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Reflections of her: now a sound<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of imaged beauty, now a look.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So when I found her, gazing in<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Those Bibles of her eyes, above<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All earth, I saw no word of sin;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Their holy chapters all were love.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I read them through. I read and saw<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The soul impatient of the sod—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her soul, that through her eyes did draw<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Mine—to the higher love of God.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_328" id="page_328"></a>{328}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="CAN_I_FORGET" id="CAN_I_FORGET"></a>CAN I FORGET?</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Can I forget how Love once led the ways<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of our two lives together, joining them;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How every hour was his anadem,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And every day a tablet in his praise!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Can I forget how, in his garden’s place,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Among the purple roses, stem to stem,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We heard the rumor of his robe’s bright hem,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And saw the aureate radiance of his face!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though I beheld my soul’s high dreams down-hurled,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Falsehood sit where Truth once towered white,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And in Love’s place usurping Lust and Shame,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though flowers be dead within the winter world,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Are flowers not there? and starless though the night,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Are stars not there, eternal and the same?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_329" id="page_329"></a>{329}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="MY_ROSE" id="MY_ROSE"></a>MY ROSE</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There was a rose in Eden once: it grows<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On Earth now, sweeter for its rare perfume:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Paradise is poorer by one bloom,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Earth is richer. In this blossom glows<br /></span> -<span class="i0">More loveliness than old seraglios<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or courts of kings did ever yet illume:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">More purity than ever yet had room<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In soul of nun or saint.—O human rose!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who art initial and sweet period of<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My heart’s divinest sentence; where I read<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Love, first and last, and in the pauses, love;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who art the dear ideal of each deed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through which my life is strong to attain its goal,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Set in the mystic garden of my soul!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_330" id="page_330"></a>{330}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="RESTRAINT" id="RESTRAINT"></a>RESTRAINT</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Dear heart and love! what happiness is it<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To watch the firelight’s varying shade and shine<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On thy young face; and through those eyes of thine—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As through clear windows—to behold them flit,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In sumptuous chambers of thy mind’s chaste wit,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy soul’s fair fancies! then to take in mine<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy hand, whose pressure brims my heart’s divine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hushed rapture as with music exquisite!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When I remember how thy look and touch<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sway, like the moon, my blood with ecstasy,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I dare not think to what fierce heaven might lead<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy soft embrace; or in thy kiss how much<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sweet hell,—beyond all help of me,—might be,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where I were lost, where I were lost indeed!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_331" id="page_331"></a>{331}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="IN_JUNE" id="IN_JUNE"></a>IN JUNE</h3> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hotly burns the amaryllis,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Starred with ruby red:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Coolly stand the snowy lilies<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the lily-bed:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Emerald gleams the wild May-apple,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">’Neath its parasol,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And where gold the sunbeams dapple<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Woods, and thrushes call,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Marion strolls with Moll,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Singing, “Fol-de-rol;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fol-de, fol-de-rol.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“March was but a blustering liar;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">April, sad as night:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">May, a milkmaid from the byre,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Full of love but light.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">June, sweet June!—ah! she’s My Lady,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fair and fine and tall,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_332" id="page_332"></a>{332}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Strolling down the woodways shady—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">June is best of all!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She is like my Moll!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fol-de-rol-de-rol!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She is like sweet Moll!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_333" id="page_333"></a>{333}</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><a name="WILL_O_THE_WISPS" id="WILL_O_THE_WISPS"></a>WILL O’ THE WISPS</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Beyond the barley meads and hay,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What was the light that beckoned there?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That made her young lips smile and say:<br /></span> -<span class="iq">“Oh, busk me in a gown of May,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And knot red poppies in my hair.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Over the meadow and the wood<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What was the voice that filled her ears?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That sent into pale cheeks the blood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Until each seemed a wild-brier bud<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Mowed down by mowing harvesters?...<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Beyond the orchard, down the hill,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The water flows, the water swirls;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And there they found her past all ill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her pale dead face, sweet, smiling still,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The cresses caught among her curls.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">At twilight in the willow glen<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What sound is that the silence hears,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When deep the dusk is hushed again,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And homeward from the fields strong men<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And women go, the harvesters?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_334" id="page_334"></a>{334}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">One seeks the place where she is laid,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where violets bloom from year to year—<br /></span> -<span class="iq">“O sunny head! O bird-like maid!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The orchard blossoms fall and fade<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And I am lonely, lonely here.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Two stars look down upon the vale;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">They seem to him the eyes of Ruth:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The low moon rises very pale<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As if she, too, had heard the tale,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All heartbreak, of a maid and youth.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_335" id="page_335"></a>{335}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="IN_A_GARDEN" id="IN_A_GARDEN"></a>IN A GARDEN</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The pink rose drops its petals on<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The moonlit lawn, the moonlit lawn;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The moon, like some wide rose of white,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Drops down the summer night.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">No rose there is<br /></span> -<span class="i4">As sweet as this—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy mouth, that greets me with a kiss.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The lattice of thy casement twines<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With jasmine vines, with jasmine vines;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The stars, like jasmine blossoms, lie<br /></span> -<span class="i2">About the glimmering sky.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">No jasmine tress<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Can so caress<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like thy white arms’ soft loveliness.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">About thy door magnolia blooms<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Make sweet the glooms, make sweet the glooms;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A moon-magnolia is the dusk<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Closed in a dewy husk.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">However much,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">No bloom gives such<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Soft fragrance as thy bosom’s touch.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_336" id="page_336"></a>{336}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The flowers blooming now will pass,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And strew the grass, and strew the grass;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The night, like some frail flower, dawn<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Will soon make gray and wan.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Still, still above,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The flower of<br /></span> -<span class="i0">True love shall live forever, Love.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_337" id="page_337"></a>{337}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="IF_I_WERE_HER_LOVER" id="IF_I_WERE_HER_LOVER"></a>“IF I WERE HER LOVER”</h3> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If I were her lover,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’d wade through the clover<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Over the fields before<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The gate that leads to her door;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Over the meadows,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To wait, ’mid the shadows,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The shadows that circle her door,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For the heart of my heart and more.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And there in the clover<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Close by her,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Over and over<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I’d sigh her:<br /></span> -<span class="iq">“Your eyes are as brown<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As the Night’s, looking down<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On waters that sleep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With the moon in their deep” ...<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If I were her lover to sigh her.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_338" id="page_338"></a>{338}</span></p> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If I were her lover,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’d wade through the clover<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Over the fields before<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The lane that leads to her door;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’d wait, ’mid the thickets,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or there by the pickets,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">White pickets that fence in her door,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For the life of my life and more.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’d lean in the clover—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The crisper<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For the dews that are over—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And whisper:<br /></span> -<span class="iq">“Your lips are as rare<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As the dewberries there,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As ripe and as red,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On the honey-dew fed” ...<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If I were her lover to whisper.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>III</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If I were her lover,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’d wade through the clover<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Over the fields before<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The pathway that leads to her door;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And watch, in the twinkle<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of stars that sprinkle<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_339" id="page_339"></a>{339}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">The paradise over her door,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For the soul of my soul and more.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And there in the clover<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I’d reach her;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And over and over<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I’d teach her—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A love without sighs,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of laughterful eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That reckoned each second<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The pause of a kiss,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A kiss and ... that is<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If I were her lover to teach her.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_340" id="page_340"></a>{340}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="NOERA" id="NOERA"></a>NOËRA</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Noëra, when sad fall<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Has grayed the fallow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Leaf-cramped the wood-brook’s brawl<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In pool and shallow;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When, by the wood-side, tall<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Stands sere the mallow:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Noëra, when gray gold<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And golden gray<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The crackling hollows fold<br /></span> -<span class="i2">By every way,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall I thy face behold,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dear bit of May?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When webs are cribs for dew,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And gossamers<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Streak past you, silver-blue;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When silence stirs<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One leaf, of rusty hue,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Among the burrs:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_341" id="page_341"></a>{341}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Noëra, thro’ the wood,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or thro’ the grain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come, with the hoiden mood<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of wind and rain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fresh in thy sunny blood,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sweetheart, again!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Noëra, when the corn,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Heaped on the fields,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The asters’ stars adorn—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And purple shields<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of ironweeds lie torn<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Among the wealds:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Noëra, haply then,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thou being with me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each ruined greenwood glen<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Will bud and be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Spring’s with the spring again,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The spring in thee.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou of the breezy tread,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Feet of the breeze:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou of the sunbeam head,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Heart like a bee’s:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Face like a woodland-bred<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Anemone’s.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_342" id="page_342"></a>{342}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou to October bring<br /></span> -<span class="i2">An April part!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come, make the wild-birds sing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The blossoms start!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Noëra, with the spring<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wild in thy heart!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Come with our golden year;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Come as its gold:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With the same laughing, clear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Loved voice of old:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In thy cool hair one dear<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wild marigold.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_343" id="page_343"></a>{343}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="AMONG_THE_ACRES_OF_THE_WOOD" id="AMONG_THE_ACRES_OF_THE_WOOD"></a>AMONG THE ACRES OF THE WOOD</h3> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">“I know, I know;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The way doth go<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Athwart a greenwood glade, oh!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">White bloom the wild-plums in that glade,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">White as the bosom of the maid<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who, stooping, sits, and milks and sings<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Among the dew-dashed clover rings,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When fades the flush, the henna blush,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The orange-glow of sunset low,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And all the winds are laid, oh!”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">“I wot, I wot.—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And is it not<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Right o’er the viney hill?—”<br /></span> -<span class="iq">“Yea: where the wild-grapes mat and make<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Penthouses of each bramble-brake,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And dangle plumes of fragrant blooms:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_344" id="page_344"></a>{344}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where threads of sunbeams string the glooms<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With beaded gold; and flowers unfold<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their eyes of blue;—and all night through<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sings, wildly shrill, one whippoorwill.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>III</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">“I ween, I ween,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The path is green<br /></span> -<span class="i2">’Neath beechen boughs that let<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Soft glimpses of the sapphire sky<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gleam downward like a wood-nymph’s eye:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At night one far and lambent star<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shines o’er it, like a watching Lar,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Mid branching buds a tangled bud<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Among the acres of the wood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where blooms the wet wild violet<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And only we have, trysting, met.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_345" id="page_345"></a>{345}</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><a name="WORDS" id="WORDS"></a>WORDS</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I can not tell what I would tell thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What I would say, what thou shouldst hear;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Words of the soul that should compel thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Words of the heart to draw thee near.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For when thou smilest, thou, who fillest<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My life with joy, and I would speak,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Tis then my lips and tongue are stillest,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Knowing all language is too weak.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Look in my eyes: read there confession:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The truest love hath least of art:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor needs it words for its expression<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When soul speaks soul and heart speaks heart.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_346" id="page_346"></a>{346}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="THE_SIRENS" id="THE_SIRENS"></a>THE SIRENS</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Wail! wail! and smite your lyres’ sonorous gold,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And beckon naked beauty; luring me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With arms and breasts and hips of godly mold,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dark, wind-wild locks seen through the surf-blown sea!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Vain all your magic! dull in unclosed ears!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beside one voice sweet-calling o’er the foam,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That, in my heart, like some strong hand appears<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To gently, firmly draw my vessel home.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_347" id="page_347"></a>{347}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="WHY" id="WHY"></a>WHY?</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Why are the bright stars brighter after rain?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why is strong love the stronger after pain?<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Reply, reply!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Why sings the wild swan heavenliest when it dies?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why is fair love the fairest when it flies?<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Oh why! Oh why!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Why are sweet kisses sweetest when they’re dead?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why is love loveliest when ’tis buriéd?<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Reply, reply!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_348" id="page_348"></a>{348}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="NOCTURNE" id="NOCTURNE"></a>NOCTURNE</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A disc of violet blue,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rimmed with a thorn of fire,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The new moon hangs in a sky of dew;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And under the vines, where the sunset’s hue<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is blent with blooms, first one, then two,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Begins the crickets’ choir.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Bright blurs of golden white,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With points of pearly glimmer,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The first stars wink in the web of night;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And through the flowers the moths take flight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the honeysuckle-colored light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the shadowy shrubs grow dimmer.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Soft through the dim and dying eve,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Sweet through the dusk and dew,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Come, while the hours their witchcraft weave,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dim in the House of the Soul’s-sweet-leave,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Here in the pale and perfumed eve,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Here where I wait for you.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_349" id="page_349"></a>{349}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A great, dark, radiant rose,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dripping with starry glower,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is the night, whose bosom overflows<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With the balsam musk of the breeze that blows<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Into the heart, as each one knows,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of every nodding flower.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A voice that sighs and sighs,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then whispers like a spirit,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is the wind, that kisses the drowsy eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the primrose open, and, rocking, lies<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the lily’s cradle, and soft unties<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The rose-bud’s crimson near it.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Sweet through the deep and dreaming night,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Soft through the dark and dew,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Come, where the moments their magic write,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Deep in the Book of the Heart’s-delight,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Here in the hushed and haunted night,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Here where I wait for you.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_350" id="page_350"></a>{350}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="METAMORPHOSIS" id="METAMORPHOSIS"></a>METAMORPHOSIS</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Before Love’s lofty goddess—Life hath toiled<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To mold from burning dew and dewy fire—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who kneel and worship with a heart sin-soiled,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Within the secret Temple of Desire;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Their curse is such: that, even while they pray,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They shall not see, nor shall they know thereof!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their Deity is changed from fire to clay—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lust! fashioned in the very form of Love.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_351" id="page_351"></a>{351}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="AT_TWENTY-ONE" id="AT_TWENTY-ONE"></a>AT TWENTY-ONE</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The rosy hills of her high breasts,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whereon, like misty morning, rests<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The breathing lace; her auburn hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wherein, a star-point sparkling there,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One jewel burns: her eyes, that keep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Recorded dreams of love and sleep:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her mouth, with whose comparison<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The richest rose were poor and wan:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her throat, her form—what masterpiece<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of man can picture half of these!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She comes! a classic from the hand<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of God! wherethrough I understand<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What Nature means and Art and Love,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all the immortal myths thereof.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_352" id="page_352"></a>{352}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="KINSHIP" id="KINSHIP"></a>KINSHIP</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There is no flower of wood or lea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No April flower, as fair as she:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O white anemone, who hast<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The wind’s wild grace,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Know her a cousin of thy race,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Into whose face<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A presence like the wind’s hath passed.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There is no flower of wood or lea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No May-day flower, as fair as she:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O bluebell, tender with the blue<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of sapphire skies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy lineage hath kindred ties<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In her, whose eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The heaven’s own qualities imbue.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There is no flower of wood or lea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No June-time flower, as fair as she:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rose,—odorous with beauty of<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her lips that pressed,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Behold thy sister here confessed!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whose maiden breast<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is fragrant with the dreams of love.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_353" id="page_353"></a>{353}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="SHE_IS_SO_MUCH" id="SHE_IS_SO_MUCH"></a>“SHE IS SO MUCH”</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She is so much to me, to me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And, oh, I love her so,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I look into my soul and see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How comfort keeps me company<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In hopes she, too, may know.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I love her, I love her, I love her,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">This I know.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So dear she is to me, so dear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And, oh, I love her so,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I listen in my heart and hear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The voice of gladness singing near<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In thoughts she, too, may know.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I love her, I love her, I love her,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">This I know.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So much she is to me, so much,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And, oh, I love her so,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In heart and soul I feel the touch<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of angel callers, that are such<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dreams as she, too, may know.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I love her, I love her, I love her,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">This I know.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_354" id="page_354"></a>{354}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="HER_EYES" id="HER_EYES"></a>HER EYES</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In her dark eyes dreams poetize;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The soul sits lost in love:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There is no thing in all the skies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To gladden all the world I prize,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like the deep love in her dark eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or one sweet dream thereof.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In her dark eyes, where thoughts arise,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her soul’s soft moods I see:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of hope and faith, that make life wise;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And charity, whose food is sighs—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not truer than her own true eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is truth’s divinity.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In her dark eyes the knowledge lies<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of an immortal sod,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her soul once trod in angel guise,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor can forget its heavenly ties,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since, there in Heaven, upon her eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Once gazed the eyes of God.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_355" id="page_355"></a>{355}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="MESSENGERS" id="MESSENGERS"></a>MESSENGERS</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The wind, that gives the rose a kiss,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With murmured music of the south,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hath kissed a sweeter thing than this;—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wind, that gives the rose a kiss,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hath kissed the red rose of her mouth.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The brook, that mirrors skies and trees,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And echoes in a grottoed place,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hath held a fairer thing than these;—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The brook, that mirrors skies and trees,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hath held the image of her face.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O happy wind! O happy brook!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What message from her do you bear?—<br /></span> -<span class="iq">“We bear from her her kiss and look—”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O happy wind! O happy brook!—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">“That blessed us unaware.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_356" id="page_356"></a>{356}</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><a name="APART" id="APART"></a>APART</h3> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">While sunset burns and stars are few,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And roses scent the fading light;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, like a slim urn, dripping dew,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A spirit carries through the night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The pearl-pale moon hangs new,—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I think of you, of you.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">While waters flow, and soft winds woo<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The golden-hearted bud with sighs;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, like a flower an angel threw,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Out of the momentary skies<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A star falls, burning blue,—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I dream of you, of you.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>III</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">While love believes and hearts are true,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So let me think, so let me dream;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The thought and dream so wedded to<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your face, that, far apart, I seem<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To see each thing you do,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And be with you, with you.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_357" id="page_357"></a>{357}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="THE_BLIND_GOD" id="THE_BLIND_GOD"></a>THE BLIND GOD</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I know not if she be unkind;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">If she have faults, I do not care.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Search through the world—where will you find<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A face like hers, a form, a mind?—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I love her to despair!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If she be cruel, cruelty<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is a great virtue, I will swear:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If she be proud, then pride must be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Better than all humility.—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I love her to despair!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Why speak to me of that or this?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All you may say weighs not a hair!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To me, naught but perfection is<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In her, whose lips I may not kiss!—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I love her to despair!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_358" id="page_358"></a>{358}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="CARA_MIA" id="CARA_MIA"></a>CARA MIA</h3> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sweet lips, where kisses sleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Soft eyes, so filled with dreams,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Waken, oh waken!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Open your blossoms deep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweet lips, where kisses sleep:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unfold your brightest beams,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Soft eyes, so filled with dreams:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Waken, oh, waken!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sweet lips, that give perfume,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Soft eyes, that kindle light,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Come, let me kiss you!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To every flower in bloom,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweet lips, you lend perfume!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In every star at night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Soft eyes, you kindle light!—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Come, let me kiss you!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_359" id="page_359"></a>{359}</span></p> - -<h4>III</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who would not love to rest?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who would not love to lie?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who would not love them?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of such sweet flowers caressed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who would not love to rest?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With such stars in their sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who would not love to lie?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who would not love them?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_360" id="page_360"></a>{360}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="MARGERY" id="MARGERY"></a>MARGERY</h3> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When spring is here and Margery<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Goes walking in the woods with me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She is so white, she is so shy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The little leaves clap hands and cry—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">“Perdie;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So white is she, so shy is she,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Ah me!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The maiden May hath just passed by!”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When summer ’s here and Margery<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Goes walking in the fields with me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She is so pure, she is so fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wildflowers eye her and declare—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">“Perdie!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So pure is she, so fair is she,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Just see,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where our sweet cousin takes the air!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_361" id="page_361"></a>{361}</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>III</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Why is it that my Margery<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hears nothing that these say to me?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She is so good, she is so true,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My heart it maketh such ado,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Perdie!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So good is she, so true is she,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">You see,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She can not hear the other two.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_362" id="page_362"></a>{362}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="CONSTANCE" id="CONSTANCE"></a>CONSTANCE</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Beyond the orchard, in the lane,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The crested red-bird sings again—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O bird, whose song says, “Have no care,”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Should I not care when Constance there,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My Constance with the bashful gaze,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pink-gowned like some sweet hollyhock,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If I declare my love, just says<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some careless thing as if in mock?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like—“Past the orchard, in the lane,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hark! how the red-bird sings again!”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There, while the red-bird sings his best,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His listening mate sits on the nest—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O bird, whose patience says, “All ’s well,”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How can it be with me, come, tell?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When Constance, with averted eyes,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Soft-bonneted as some sweet-pea,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If I talk marriage, just replies<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With some such quaint irrelevancy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As, “While the red-bird sings his best,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His loving mate sits on the nest.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_363" id="page_363"></a>{363}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What shall I say? what can I do?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Would such replies mean aught to you,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O birds, whose music says, “Be glad”?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Have I not reason to be sad<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When Constance, with demurest glance,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her face all poppied with distress,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If I reproach her, pouts, perchance,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And answers thus in waywardness?—<br /></span> -<span class="iq">“What shall I say? what can I do?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My meaning should be plain to you!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_364" id="page_364"></a>{364}</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><a name="LYDIA" id="LYDIA"></a>LYDIA</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When Autumn’s here and days are short,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Let Lydia laugh and, hey!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Straightway ’t is May-day in my heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And blossoms strew the way.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When Summer ’s here and days are long,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Let Lydia sigh and, ho!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">December’s fields I walk among,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And shiver in the snow.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No matter what the seasons are,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My Lydia is so dear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My heart admits no calendar<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of Earth when she is near.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_365" id="page_365"></a>{365}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="HELEN" id="HELEN"></a>HELEN</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Heaped in raven loops and masses<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Over temples smooth and fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Have you marked it, as she passes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Night and starlight mingled there,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Braided strands of midnight air,—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Helen’s hair?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Deep with dreams and moony mazes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of the thought that in them lies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Have you seen them, as she raises<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Them in question or surprise,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Two gray gleams of daybreak skies,—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Helen’s eyes?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Fresh as dew and honied wafters<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of a music sweet that slips,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Have you marked them, brimmed with laughter’s<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Song and sunshine to their tips,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Blossoms whence the perfume drips,—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Helen’s lips?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_366" id="page_366"></a>{366}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He who sees her needs must love her:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But, beware, whoe’er thou art!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lest like me thou shouldst discover<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nature overlooked one part,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In this masterpiece of art—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Helen’s heart.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_367" id="page_367"></a>{367}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="MIGNON" id="MIGNON"></a>MIGNON</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh, Mignon’s mouth is like a rose,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A red, red rose, that half uncurls<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweet petals o’er a crimson bee:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or like a shell, that, opening, shows<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Within its rosy curve white pearls,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">White rows of pearls,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is Mignon’s mouth that smiles at me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh, Mignon’s eyes are like blue gems,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Two azure gems that gleam and glow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Soft sapphires set in ivory:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or like twin violets, whose stems<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bloom blue beneath the covering snow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The lidded snow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are Mignon’s eyes that laugh at me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O mouth of Mignon, Mignon’s eyes!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O eyes of violet, mouth of fire!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Within which lies all ecstasy<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of tears and kisses and of sighs:—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O mouth, O eyes, and O desire,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O love’s desire,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Have mercy on the soul of me!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_368" id="page_368"></a>{368}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="TRANSUBSTANTIATION" id="TRANSUBSTANTIATION"></a>TRANSUBSTANTIATION</h3> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A sunbeam and a drop of dew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lay on a red rose in the South:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">God took the three and made her mouth,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Her sweet, small mouth,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">So red of hue,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The burning baptism of His kiss<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still fills my heart with heavenly bliss.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A dream of truth and love come true<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Slept on a star in daybreak skies:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">God mingled these and made her eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Her dear, clear eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">So gray of hue,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The high communion of His gaze<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still fills my soul with deep amaze.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_369" id="page_369"></a>{369}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="LOVE_AND_A_DAY" id="LOVE_AND_A_DAY"></a>LOVE AND A DAY</h3> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In girandoles of gladioles<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The day had kindled flame;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Heaven a door of gold and pearl<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unclosed, whence Morning,—like a girl,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A red rose twisted in a curl,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Down sapphire stairways came.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Said I to Love: “What must I do?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What shall I do? what can I do?”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Said I to Love: “What must I do,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All on a summer’s morning?”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Said Love to me: “Go woo, go woo.”<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Said Love to me: “Go woo.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If she be milking, follow, O!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in the clover hollow, O!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While through the dew the bells clang clear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Just whisper it into her ear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All on a summer’s morning.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_370" id="page_370"></a>{370}</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Of honey and heat and weed and wheat<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The day had made perfume;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Heaven a tower of turquoise raised,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whence Noon, like some pale woman, gazed—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A sunflower withering at her waist—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Within a crystal room.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Said I to Love: “What must I do?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What shall I do? what can I do?”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Said I to Love: “What must I do,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All in the summer nooning?”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Said Love to me: “Go woo, go woo.”<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Said Love to me: “Go woo.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">If she be ’mid the rakers, O!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Among the harvest acres, O!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While every breeze brings scents of hay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Just hold her hand and not take ‘nay,’<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All in the summer nooning.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>III</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">With song and sigh and cricket cry<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The day had mingled rest;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Heaven a casement opened wide<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_371" id="page_371"></a>{371}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of opal, whence, like some young bride,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Twilight leaned, all starry eyed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A moonflower on her breast.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Said I to Love: “What must I do?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What shall I do? what can I do?”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Said I to Love: “What must I do,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All in the summer gloaming?”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Said Love to me: “Go woo, go woo.”<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Said Love to me: “Go woo,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Go meet her at the trysting, O!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And ’spite of her resisting, O!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beneath the stars and afterglow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Just clasp her close and kiss her—so,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All in the summer gloaming.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_372" id="page_372"></a>{372}</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><a name="LOVE_IN_A_GARDEN" id="LOVE_IN_A_GARDEN"></a>LOVE IN A GARDEN</h3> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Between the rose’s and the canna’s crimson,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beneath thy window in the night I stand;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The jeweled dew hangs little stars, in rims, on<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The white moonflowers; each a spirit hand<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That points the path to mystic Shadowland.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">Awaken, sweet and fair!<br /></span> -<span class="i5">And add to night thy grace!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Suffer its loveliness to share<br /></span> -<span class="i5">The white moon of thy face,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The dark cloud of thy hair.<br /></span> -<span class="i5">Awaken, sweet and fair!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A moth, like down, swings on th’ althea’s pistil,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ghost of a tone that haunts its bell’s deep dome;—<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_373" id="page_373"></a>{373}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in the August-lily’s cone of crystal<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A firefly hangs the lantern of a gnome,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Green as a gem that gleams through hollow foam.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">Approach! the moment flies!<br /></span> -<span class="i5">O sweetheart of the South!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Come! mingle with night’s mysteries<br /></span> -<span class="i5">The red rose of thy mouth,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The dark stars of thine eyes.—<br /></span> -<span class="i5">Approach! the moment flies!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>III</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Dim through the dusk, like some unearthly presence,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The night-song silvers of a dreaming bird;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And with it borne, faint on a breeze-blown essence,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The rainy whisper of a fountain’s heard—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As if young lips had breathed a perfumed word.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">How long, my love, my bliss!<br /></span> -<span class="i5">How long must I await<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With night—that all impatience is—<br /></span> -<span class="i5">Thy greeting at the gate,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And at the gate thy kiss?<br /></span> -<span class="i5">How long, my love, my bliss!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_374" id="page_374"></a>{374}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="FLORIDIAN" id="FLORIDIAN"></a>FLORIDIAN</h3> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The cactus and the aloe bloom<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beneath the window of your room;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That window where, at evenfall,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beneath the twilight’s first pale star,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You linger, tall and spiritual,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And hearken my guitar.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">It is the hour<br /></span> -<span class="i4">When every flower<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is wooed of moth or bee—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Would, would you were the flower, dear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I the moth to draw you near,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To draw you near to me,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">My dear,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To draw you near to me!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The jasmine and bignonia spill<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their balm about your windowsill;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_375" id="page_375"></a>{375}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">That sill where, when magnolia-white,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In foliage mists, the moon hangs far,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You lean with bright deep eyes of night,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And hearken my guitar.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">It is the hour<br /></span> -<span class="i4">When from each flower<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wind woos essences—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Would, would you were the flower, love,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I the wind to breathe above,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To breathe above and kiss,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">My love,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To breathe above and kiss!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_376" id="page_376"></a>{376}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="WHEN_SHIPS_PUT_OUT_TO_SEA" id="WHEN_SHIPS_PUT_OUT_TO_SEA"></a>WHEN SHIPS PUT OUT TO SEA</h3> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It’s “Sweet, good-by,” when pennants fly<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And ships put out to sea;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It ’s a loving kiss, and a tear or two<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In an eye of brown or an eye of blue:—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And you’ll remember me,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Sweetheart,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And you’ll remember me.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It’s “Friend or foe?” when signals blow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And ships sight ships at sea;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It’s “Clear for action! and man the guns!”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As the battle nears and the battle runs;—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And you’ll remember me,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Sweetheart,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And you’ll remember me.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>III</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It’s deck to deck, and wrath and wreck,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When ships meet ships at sea;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_377" id="page_377"></a>{377}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">It’s scream of shot and shriek of shell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And hull and turret a roaring hell;—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And you’ll remember me,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Sweetheart,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And you’ll remember me.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>IV</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It’s doom and death, and pause a breath,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When ships go down at sea;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It’s hate is over and love begins,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And war is cruel whoever wins;—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And you’ll remember me,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Sweetheart,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And you’ll remember me.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_378" id="page_378"></a>{378}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="A_CHRISTMAS_CATCH" id="A_CHRISTMAS_CATCH"></a>A CHRISTMAS CATCH</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When roads are mired with ice and snow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the air of morn is crisp with rime;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the holly hangs by the mistletoe,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And bells ring in the Christmas-time:—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It’s—Saddle, my Heart! and ride away<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the sweet-faced girl with eyes of gray!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who waits with a smile for the gifts you bring—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A man’s strong love and a wedding-ring—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">It’s—Saddle, my Heart, and ride!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When vanes veer north and storm-winds blow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the sun at noon is a blur o’erhead;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the holly hangs by the mistletoe,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the Christmas service is sung and said:—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It’s—Come, O my Heart, and wait a while,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the organ peals, in the altar aisle,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For the gifts that the church now gives to you—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A woman’s hand and a heart that’s true.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">It’s—Come, O my Heart, and wait!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_379" id="page_379"></a>{379}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When rooms gleam warm with the fire’s glow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the sleet raps sharp on the window-pane:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the holly hangs by the mistletoe,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Christmas revels begin again:—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It’s—Home, O my Heart, and love, at last!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And her happy breast to your own held fast:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A song to sing and a tale to tell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A good-night kiss and all is well.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">It’s—Home, O my Heart, and love!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_380" id="page_380"></a>{380}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="A_SONG_FOR_YULE" id="A_SONG_FOR_YULE"></a>A SONG FOR YULE</h3> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sing, Hey, when the time rolls round this way,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And bells peal out, <i>’Tis Christmas Day</i>!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The world is better then by half,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For joy, for joy:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In a little while you will see it laugh—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For a song’s to sing and a glass to quaff,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My boy; my boy.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So here ’s to the man who never says nay!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sing, Hey, a song of Christmas Day!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sing, Ho, when roofs are white with snow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And homes are hung with mistletoe:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Old Earth is not half bad, I wis—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What cheer! what cheer!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How it ever seemed sad the wonder is—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With a gift to give and a girl to kiss,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My dear; my dear.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So here ’s to the girl who never says no!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sing, Ho, a song of the mistletoe!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_381" id="page_381"></a>{381}</span></p> - -<h4>III</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No thing in the world to the heart seems wrong<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the soul of a man walks out with song;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wherever they go, glad hand in hand,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And glove in glove,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The round of the land is rainbow-spanned,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the meaning of life they understand<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is love; is love.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let the heart be open, the soul be strong,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And life will be glad as a Christmas song.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_382" id="page_382"></a>{382}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="CHORDS" id="CHORDS"></a>CHORDS</h3> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When love delays, when love delays and joy<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Steals like a shadow o’er the happy hills;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When hope is gone; and no to-morrow fills<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The promise of to-day; still I employ<br /></span> -<span class="i4">My soul with thoughts of thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Who ’rt not for me, for me!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When love delays, when love delays and song<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Aches at wild lips, unutterable, as the sound<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of ocean strives, within the shell’s mouth bound;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And hope is gone for ever, slain of wrong;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Still in my heart one word<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Keeps calling like a bird.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When love delays, when love delays and sleep<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Seals tired eyelids,—like the sound of foam,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Heard ’mid familiar flowers far from home,—<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_383" id="page_383"></a>{383}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">When hope lies dead; in dreams, in dreams I keep<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Feeling thy lips’ sweet touch,—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And, oh! it is too much!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When love delays, when love delays and sorrow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Drinks her own tears that add but to her thirst;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When song and sleep and love itself seem curst,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And hope lies dead; still, still I dream to-morrow<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Will bring some word of cheer<br /></span> -<span class="i4">From thee who art not here.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Will love delay, will love delay till death<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hath sealed these lips and locked these eyes in night?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Till unto love and hate indifferent quite<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This form shall lie? Then wilt thou, wild of breath,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Bend down and kiss me there<br /></span> -<span class="i4">When I no more shall care?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If thou wouldst know the Beautiful that breathes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And beckons through the World, far must thou seek!...<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_384" id="page_384"></a>{384}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">She is no shadow wreathed with hemlock wreaths;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No drowsy sorrow whose wan eyes are weak<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With melancholy vigils; and no shade<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of tragic sin of the sweet sun afraid:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No tearful anger torn of truthless love,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who stabs her sick heart to the dagger’s hilt<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For vengeance sweet; no miser mood, or maid,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In owlet towers!—Nay! she sings above<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On morning meads ’mid flowers that never wilt.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If thou dost seek the Beautiful, beware!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lest thou discover her, nor know ’tis she;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And she enslave thee to thy heart’s despair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And fill thy soul with yearning, utterly,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For that wild-rose which is her mouth, that brings<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dew-odors of the dawn; for those twin springs<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of light, her eyes; the bloom of her white brow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O’er which the foliage of her dark hair lies:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The melody which is her heart, that sings<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The poetry of love, to which all bow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Both gods and men, the love that never dies.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Lost art thou then, lost as the first lone star<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Set in the splendor of the sunset’s wave;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_385" id="page_385"></a>{385}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lost in thy loneliness of searching far,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Striving to clasp her, evermore her slave:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lost—gladly lost! a devotee to her<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who, in the end, perhaps may let thee share<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A portion of her bliss, her heritage<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of happiness in the same way and wise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As woods and waters share it.—Then prepare<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy soul,—made perfect,—for its final wage,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her kiss, whose touch shall apotheosize.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>III</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now that the orchard’s leaves are sere,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And drip with rain instead of dew,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No moon-bright fruit hangs moon-like here,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And dead your long white lilies too,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And dead the heart that broke for you:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How comes the dim touch of your arm?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your faint lips on my feverish cheek?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your eyes near mine? deep as a charm,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And gray, so gray! till I am weak,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Weak with wild tears and can not speak.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I am as one who walks in dreams;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sees, as in youth, his father’s home;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hears from his native mountain streams<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Far music of continual foam,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And one sweet voice that bids him come.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_386" id="page_386"></a>{386}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="AT_HER_GRAVE" id="AT_HER_GRAVE"></a>AT HER GRAVE</h3> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">With your eyes of April blue,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And your mouth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like a May-rose, fresh with dew,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of the South,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With your hair as golden sweet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As the ripples of ripe wheat,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How you make my old heart beat!—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who are you?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There is something that I knew,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Long ago,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In your voice that thrills me through<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With the glow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of remembered happiness;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And your look—I can not guess<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What it is there, nor express.—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who are you?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_387" id="page_387"></a>{387}</span></p> - -<h4>III</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You are like her! even the hue<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of her eyes!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It is strange you stop here, too,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where she lies!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where she lies who was, you see,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All to me a girl could be—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But no wife.—You stare at me.—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who are you?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>IV</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Well, I left her. That ’s not new—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">God above!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Men, who live so, often do.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">’T is n’t love.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So I broke her heart, they say,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And been wretched since that day:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And our child—don’t turn away!—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who are you?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_388" id="page_388"></a>{388}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="A_CONFESSION" id="A_CONFESSION"></a>A CONFESSION</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">These are the facts:—I was to blame.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I brought her here and wrought her shame.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She came with me all trustingly.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lovely and innocent her face:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in her perfect form, the grace<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of purity and modesty.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I think I loved her then: would dote<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On her ambrosial breast and throat,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Young as a wildflower’s tenderness:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her eyes, that were both glad and sad:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her cheeks and chin, that dimples had:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her mouth, red-ripe to kiss and kiss.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Three months passed by; three moons of fire;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When in me sickened all desire:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in its place a devil,—who<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Filled all my soul with deep disgust,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And on the victim of my lust<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Turned eyes of loathing,—swiftly grew.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_389" id="page_389"></a>{389}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">One night, when by my side she slept,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I rose: and leaning, while I kept<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The dagger hid, I kissed her hair<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And mouth: and, when she smiled asleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Into her heart I drove it deep—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And left her dead, still smiling there.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_390" id="page_390"></a>{390}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="LAST_DAYS" id="LAST_DAYS"></a>LAST DAYS</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah! heartbreak of the tattered hills,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And heartache of the autumn sky!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heartbreak and heartache, since God wills,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Are mine, and God knows why!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I held one dearer than each day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of life God sets in sunny gold—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But Death hath ta’en that gem away,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And left me poor and old.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The heartbreak of the hills is mine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of trampled twig and rain-beat leaf,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of wind that sobs through thorn and pine<br /></span> -<span class="i2">An unavailing grief.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The sorrow of the loveless skies’<br /></span> -<span class="iq">“Farewells” are wild as those I said<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When last I kissed my child’s blue eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And lips, ice-dumb and dead.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_391" id="page_391"></a>{391}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="AT_TWILIGHT" id="AT_TWILIGHT"></a>AT TWILIGHT</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Once more she holds me with her pensive eyes;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Once more I feel her voice’s witchery<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Within my heart unfountain tears and sighs,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And fill the soul of me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Once more she bends a silent face above;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Once more I feel her hands’ soft touches shake<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My life, unbinding long-imprisoned love,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Bidding my lost dreams wake.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Once more I see her serious smile; and touch<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Once more the lips of her whose kisses say—<br /></span> -<span class="iq">“The night was long, and thou hast suffered much:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">At last, dear heart, ’t is day!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_392" id="page_392"></a>{392}</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><a name="DAY_AND_NIGHT" id="DAY_AND_NIGHT"></a>DAY AND NIGHT</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They said to me, “The days are not so far off<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When she will come, who gave her heart to thee;”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And still I wait, while twilight’s lonely star, off<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her long-loved hills, dips dewy to the sea.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And I recall that night, which gave its soul of<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Calm beauty to the earth, when she did give<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her love’s white starlight to the rugged whole of<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My barren life and bade me see and live.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The days go by, and my sick soul recalls but<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The revelation of that evening sky:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The days! whose hours are as narrow walls,—but<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of whiter shadow,—where hearts break and die.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The day is error’s: it can but deceive us<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With shows of Earth, blind with the primal curse.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The night is truth’s: its myriad fires weave us<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The thoughts of God, the visible universe.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_393" id="page_393"></a>{393}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="THREE_BIRDS" id="THREE_BIRDS"></a>THREE BIRDS</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A red bird sang upon the bough<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When wind-flowers nodded in the dew:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My spring of bird and flower wast thou,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">O tried and true!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A brown bird warbled on the wing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When poppy buds were hearts of heat:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I wooed thee with a golden ring,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">O sad and sweet!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A black-bird twittered in the mist<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When nightshade blooms were filled with frost:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The leaves upon thy grave are whist,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">O loved and lost!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_394" id="page_394"></a>{394}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="UNREQUITED" id="UNREQUITED"></a>UNREQUITED</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Passion? not hers! who held me with pure eyes:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">One hand among the deep curls of her brow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I drank the girlhood of her gaze with sighs:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She never sighed, nor gave me kiss or vow.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So have I seen a clear October pool,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Cold, liquid topaz, set within the sere<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gold of the woodland, tremorless and cool,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Reflecting all the heartbreak of the year.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sweetheart? not she! whose voice was music-sweet;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whose face was sweeter than melodious prayer.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweetheart I called her.—When did she repeat<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sweet to one hope, or heart to one despair!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So have I seen a wildflower’s fragrant head<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sung to and sung to by a longing bird,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And at the last, albeit the bird lay dead,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No blossom wilted, for it had not heard.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_395" id="page_395"></a>{395}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="THE_HEARTS_DESIRE" id="THE_HEARTS_DESIRE"></a>THE HEART’S DESIRE</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">God made her body out of foam and flowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And for her hair the dawn and darkness blent;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then called two planets from their heavenly towers,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And in her face, divinely eloquent,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Gave them a firmament.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">God made her heart of rosy ice and fire,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of snow and flame, that freezes while it burns;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And of a starbeam and a moth’s desire<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He made her soul, to’ards which my longing turns,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And all my being yearns.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So is my life a prisoner unto passion,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Enslaved of her who gives nor sign nor word;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So in the cage her loveliness doth fashion<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is love endungeoned, like a golden bird<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That sings but is not heard.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_396" id="page_396"></a>{396}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Could it but once convince her with beseeching!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But once compel her as the sun the south!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Could it but once, fond arms around her reaching,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Upon the red carnation of her mouth<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Dew its eternal drouth!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then might I rise victorious over sadness,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O’er fate and change, and, with but little care,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Torched by the glory of that moment’s gladness,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Breast the black mountain of my life’s despair,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And die, or do and dare.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_397" id="page_397"></a>{397}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="OUT_OF_THE_DEPTHS" id="OUT_OF_THE_DEPTHS"></a>OUT OF THE DEPTHS</h3> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">Let me forget her face!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So fresh, so lovely! the abiding place<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of tears and smiles that won my heart to her;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of dreams and moods that moved my soul’s dim deeps,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">As strong winds stir<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dark waters where the starlight glimmering sleeps.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In every lineament the mind can trace,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Let me forget her face!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">Let me forget her form!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Soft and seductive, that contained each charm,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each grace the sweet word maidenhood implies;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all the sensuous youth of line and curve,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That makes men’s eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bondsmen of beauty, eager still to serve.—<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_398" id="page_398"></a>{398}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">In every part that memory can warm,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Let me forget her form!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>III</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">Let me forget her, God!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her who made honeyed love a bitter rod<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To scourge my heart with, barren with despair;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To tear my soul with, sick with vain desire!—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Oh, hear my prayer!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Out of the hell of love’s unquenchable fire<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I cry to thee, with face against the sod,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Let me forget her, God!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_399" id="page_399"></a>{399}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="THIS_IS_THE_FACE_OF_HER" id="THIS_IS_THE_FACE_OF_HER"></a>“THIS IS THE FACE OF HER”</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">This is the face of her<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I’ve dreamed of long<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That in my heart I bear:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This is the face of her<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Pictured in song.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Look on the lily lids,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The eyes of dawn,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Deep as a Nereid’s,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Swimming with dewy lids<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In waters wan.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Look on the brows of snow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The locks of night:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Only the gods can show<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Such brows of placid snow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Such locks of light.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The cheeks, like rosy moons;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The lips of fire:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love sighs no sweeter tunes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Under romantic moons<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Than these suspire.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_400" id="page_400"></a>{400}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Loved lips and eyes and hair!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Look, this is she!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She, who sits smiling there,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Throned in my heart’s despair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Never for me!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_401" id="page_401"></a>{401}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="INDIFFERENCE" id="INDIFFERENCE"></a>INDIFFERENCE</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She is so dear the wildflowers near<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each path she passes by,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are over fain to kiss again<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her feet and then to die.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She is so fair the wild birds there<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That sing upon the bough,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Have learned the staff of her sweet laugh,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sing no other now.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Alas! that she should never see,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Should never care to know,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wildflower’s love, the bird’s above,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And his, who loves her so.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_402" id="page_402"></a>{402}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="GHOST_WEATHER" id="GHOST_WEATHER"></a>GHOST WEATHER</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Wild gusts of drizzle hoot and hiss<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through writhing lindens torn in two—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The dead’s own days are days like this!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yea; let me sit and be with you.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Here in your willow chair, whose seat<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Spreads purple plush.—Hark! how the gusts<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seem moaning voices that repeat<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Some grief here; in this room, where dusts<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Make dim each ornament and chair;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">This locked-in memory where you died:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since angels stood here, saintly fear<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Guards each dark corner, mournful-eyed.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Through this dim light bend your dim face;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or, like a rain-mist, gray of gleam,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A soft, dim cloudiness of lace,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Stand near me while I dream, I dream.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_403" id="page_403"></a>{403}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="THE_FOREST_POOL" id="THE_FOREST_POOL"></a>THE FOREST POOL</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">One memory persuades me when<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dusk’s lonely star burns overhead,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To take the gray path through the glen—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That finds the forest pool, made red<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With sunset—and forget again,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Forget that she is dead.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Once more I look into the spring,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That on one rock a finger white<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of foam that beckons still doth bring—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Some moon-wan spirit of the night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who dwells within its murmuring,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her life the sad moonlight.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I see the red dusk touch it here<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With fire like a blade of blood;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One star reflected, white and clear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like a wood-blossom’s drowning bud;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While all my grief stands very near,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Pale in the solitude.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_404" id="page_404"></a>{404}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And then, behold, while yet the moon<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hangs—silver as a twisted horn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blown out of Elfland—sweet with June,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">White in white clusters of the thorn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Slow, in the water as a tune,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">An image pale is born:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">That has her throat of frost; her lips—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her mouth where God’s anointment lies;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her eyes, wherefrom love’s arrow-tips<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Break, like the starlight from dark skies;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her hair, a hazel heap that slips;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her throat and hair and eyes.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And then I stoop; the water kissed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The face fades from me into air;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in the pool’s dark amethyst<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My own pale face returns my stare:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then night and mist—and in the mist<br /></span> -<span class="i2">One dead leaf drifting there.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_405" id="page_405"></a>{405}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="AT_SUNSET" id="AT_SUNSET"></a>AT SUNSET</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Into the sunset’s turquoise marge<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The moon dips, like a pearly barge<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Enchantment sails through magic seas,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To fairyland Hesperides,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Over the hills and away.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Into the fields, in ghost-gray gown,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The young-eyed dusk comes slowly down;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her apron filled with stars she stands.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And one or two slip from her hands<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Over the hills and away.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Above the wood’s black caldron bends<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The witch-faced Night and, muttering, blends<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The dew and heat, whose bubbles make<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The mist and musk that haunt the brake<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Over the hills and away.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh, come with me, and let us go<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beyond the sunset lying low,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beyond the twilight and the night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Into Love’s kingdom of long light,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Over the hills and away.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_406" id="page_406"></a>{406}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="DEAD_AND_GONE" id="DEAD_AND_GONE"></a>DEAD AND GONE</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Can you tell me how he rests,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Flowers, growing o’er him there?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His a right warm heart, my sweets,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So, cover it with care.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Can you tell me how he lies<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Such nights out in the cold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O cricket, with your plaintive call,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O glow-worm, with your gold?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If my eyes are sorrowful,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Well may they weep, I trow,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since his dead eyes gazed into them,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">They have been sad enow.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If my heart make moan and ache,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Well may it break, I’m sure—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For his dead love is more, ah me!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">More than it can endure.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_407" id="page_407"></a>{407}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="ONE_NIGHT" id="ONE_NIGHT"></a>ONE NIGHT</h3> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A night of rain. The wind is out.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And I had wished it otherwise:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A calm, still night; no scudding skies;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or, in the scud, above the rout,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The moon; by whose pale light my eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Might meet her eyes; the smile that tries<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To come but will not; lips, that pout<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With seeming anger, all surmise,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When I have said “I love your lies”—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lips I shall kiss before she dies.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What force this wind has! As it runs<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Around each unprotecting tree<br /></span> -<span class="i2">It seems some beast; and now I see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its form, its eyes; a woman’s once:—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dark eyes! that blaze as lionly<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As some bayed beast’s, that will not flee<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_408" id="page_408"></a>{408}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">The pine-knots and derides the guns.—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or is it but the thought in me!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The thought of that which is to be,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The deed, that rises shadowy?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>III</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And now the trees and whipping rain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Confuse them.... I must drive it hence,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The memory of her eyes! the tense<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wild look within them of hard pain!...<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yet she must die—with every sense<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Strung to beholding knowledge, whence<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My heart shall be made whole again.—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Here I will wait where night is dense.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Soon she will come, like Innocence,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thinking her youth is her defense.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>IV</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And when she leaves,—and none perceives,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The old gray manor, where the eight<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Old locusts, (twisted shadows), freight<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With mossy murmurings its eaves,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">One moment at the iron gate<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She ’ll tarry. Then, with breath abate,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_409" id="page_409"></a>{409}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come rustling through the autumn leaves.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And I will take both hands and sate<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My mouth on hers and say, “You ’re late”;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She ’ll laugh to hear I had to wait....<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>V</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O passion of past vows, revive<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Imagination, and renew<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The ardor of love’s language you<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For love’s rose-altar kept alive!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Repeat the oaths that rang with dew<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And starlight!—Tell her she is true<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As beautiful.—I will contrive<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To make her think I have no clue<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To all her falseness. I will woo<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As once I wooed before I knew.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>VI</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And we will walk against the wind;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The shuffling leaves about our feet;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our ruin, as the wood’s, complete,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Because one woman so hath sinned<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And never suffered. She shall meet<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No murder in my eyes; no heat<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_410" id="page_410"></a>{410}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of fate in holding hand that ’s pinned<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To hers. To make her trust to beat,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I ’ll kiss her hand, her hair,—like wheat<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of affluent summer,—saying “Sweet.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>VII</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And should I bungle in this thing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">This purpose that must see her dead<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To cure this fever in my head?—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What other thing is there to bring<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Soul satisfaction? when is shed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No real blood, save what makes red<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The baulked intention?—I will fling<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The mask aside!—But hate hath led<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Desire too far now to be fed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With failure. I have naught to dread.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>VIII</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When we have reached the precipice<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That thwarts the battling of the sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And wallows out great rocks, that knee<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The giant foam with roar and hiss,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I will not cease to coax and be<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The anxious lover. Trusting she<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_411" id="page_411"></a>{411}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Will not suspect my farewell kiss<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Until it turns a curse, and we<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sway for an instant totteringly,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And she has shrieked some prayer at me.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>IX</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O let me see wild terror there<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Upon her face! the wilder frown<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of crime’s apprisal, and renown<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of my life’s injury, that bare<br /></span> -<span class="i2">This horror with its bloody crown!—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No pity, God! For, if her gown,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Suspending looseness of her hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Delay the plunge ... the night is brown ...<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My heel must crush her white face down,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Hell and Heaven see her drown.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_412" id="page_412"></a>{412}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="THE_PARTING" id="THE_PARTING"></a>THE PARTING</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She passed the thorn-trees, whose gaunt branches tossed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their spider-shadows round her; and the breeze,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beneath the ashen moon, was full of frost,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And mouthed and mumbled in the sickly trees,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like some starved hag who sees her children freeze.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Dry-eyed she waited by the sycamore.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some stars made misty blotches in the sky.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all the wretched willows on the shore<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Looked faded as a jaundiced cheek or eye.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She felt deep sorrow yet could only sigh.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She heard his skiff grind on the river rocks<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whistling he came into the shadow made<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By the great tree. He kissed her on her locks;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And round her form his eager arms were laid.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Passive she stood her purpose unbetrayed.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And then she spoke, while still his greeting kiss<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stung in her hair. She did not dare to lift<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her face to his; her anguished eyes to his<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_413" id="page_413"></a>{413}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">While tears smote crystal in her throat. One rift<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of weakness humored might set all adrift.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Anger and shame were his. She meekly heard.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And then the oar-locks sounded, and her brain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Remembered he had said no farewell word;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And swift emotion swept her; and again<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Left her as silent as a carven pain....<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She, in the old sad farm-house, wearily<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Resumed the drudgery of her common lot,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Regret remembering.—’Midst old vices, he,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who would have trod on, and somehow did not,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wildflower, that had brushed his feet, forgot.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_414" id="page_414"></a>{414}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="THE_DAUGHTER_OF_THE_SNOW" id="THE_DAUGHTER_OF_THE_SNOW"></a>THE DAUGHTER OF THE SNOW</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Though the panther’s footprints show,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the wild-cat’s, in the snow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You will never find a trace<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of the footsteps of a certain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Maiden with a paler face<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Than the drifts that fill and curtain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hillside, valley, and the wood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the hunter’s wigwam stood<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the winter solitude.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What white beast hath grown the fur<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For the whiter limbs of her?—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Raiment of the frost and ice<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To her supple beauty fitting;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wampum strouds, as white as rice,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of the frost’s fantastic knitting,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wrap her form and face complete;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Glove her hands with ice; her feet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Moccasin with beaded sleet.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_415" id="page_415"></a>{415}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">’Though he knew she made a haunt<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the dell, it did not daunt:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the hoar-frost mailed each tree<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In soft, phantom alabaster,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And hung ghosts of bud and bee<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On each autumn-withered aster;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By the frozen waterfall,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There she stood, beneath its wall,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the ice-sheathed chaparral.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Where the beech-tree and the larch<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Built a white triumphal arch<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For the Winter, marching down<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With his icy-armored leaders;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where each hemlock had a crown,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And pale diadems the cedars;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the long icicle shone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There he saw her, standing lone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like a mist-wraith turned to stone.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And she led him many a mile<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With her hand-wave and her smile,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the printless swiftness of<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Feet of frost, and snowy flutter<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of her raiment; now above,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Now below, the boughs of utter<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Winter whiteness. Led him on<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_416" id="page_416"></a>{416}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till the dawn and day were gone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the evening star hung wan....<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hunters found him dead, they tell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the winter-wasted dell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With his quiver and his bow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where the cascade ran a rafter,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">White, of crystal and of snow;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where he listened to her laughter,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Promises, that were as far<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As the secrets of a star,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And her love that naught could mar.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And her countenance is this<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stamped on his: and this her kiss,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Haunting still his mouth and eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Colder than the cold December:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This her passion, that defies<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All control, the stars remember<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Filled him, killed him: this is she<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Clinging to him, neck and knee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where his limbs sank wearily.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_417" id="page_417"></a>{417}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="THE_SPIRIT_OF_THE_STAR" id="THE_SPIRIT_OF_THE_STAR"></a>THE SPIRIT OF THE STAR<br /><br /> -(<i>Love Spiritual</i>)</h3> - -<p>“<i>This union of the human soul with the divine æthereal substance of the -universe, is the ancient doctrine of Pythagoras and Plato.</i>”—Divine -Legation.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There is love for love: the heaven<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Teems with possibilities:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, when love is purely given,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Love returns from where none sees:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And such love becomes a ladder<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Reaching heavenward, from the sadder<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Night of Earth; from out the driven<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Darkness of its miseries.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There is love for love: and Beauty,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From her star above the Earth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Smiles, and straight each cloud of sooty<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Night takes on celestial worth:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, like some white flower unfolding,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love is born; and softly holding<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Up its face, as if in duty,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Grows to that which gave it birth.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_418" id="page_418"></a>{418}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Earth and Heaven are prolific<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of love’s wonders: and the sky<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Teems with spirits, fair, terrific,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who, if loved, shall never die:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dæmons, haggard as their mountains;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Naiads, sparkling as their fountains;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sylphids of the winds, pacific<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As the stars they tremble by....<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Such was I; who long had waited<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For the everlasting sleep:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where, around me, worlds dilated,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Waned or waxed within the deep:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where, beneath my star, a planet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whirled and shone, like glowing granite,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While around it ne’er abated<br /></span> -<span class="i2">One white satellite its sweep.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I was sad: my beauty wearied,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Useless as a scentless bud<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fading ere it blooms. The serried<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Mists of worlds, as red as blood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Streamed beneath me. And the starry<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Firmament above bent, barry<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With the wild auroras, ferried<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of the meteors’ sisterhood.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="figcenter"><a name="something" id="something"></a> -<a href="images/i_418a_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_418a_sml.jpg" width="351" height="500" alt="[Image unavailable.]" /></a> -</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Something drew me, unreturning,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Filled me with a finer flame<br /></span> -<span class="i12"><a href="#page_418">Page 418</a><br /></span> -<span class="i8"><i>The Spirit of the Star</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_419" id="page_419"></a>{419}</span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I was loveless with a yearning<br /></span> -<span class="i2">After love that never came;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All my astral being burning<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Towards that world without a name,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">World I knew not: till, with splendor<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of compulsion that was tender,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Something drew me, unreturning,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Filled me with a finer flame.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So I left my star, whose lances<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Pierced with arrowy gold the heat<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of heaven’s hyacinth; its glances<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Saddened me. No more to meet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then I left my star; and, beating<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Downward, heard it still repeating<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Far farewells; and through the trances<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of dark space its face looked sweet.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Passed your moon: a melancholy<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Disc at first; then, vast and sharp,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lo, a world, all white and holy!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where, upon the crystal scarp<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of a mountain,—like a story<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of high Heaven revealed in glory,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gradual, as if music slowly<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Built it, rolling from a harp,—<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_420" id="page_420"></a>{420}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Rose a city: cloudy nacre<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Were its walls, that towered round<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Acre upon arch-piled acre<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of a marble-terraced ground:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Caryatids alternated<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With Atlantes, sculpture-weighted:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And its gates—some god the maker—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Rhombs of symboled diamond.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In the white light glittered swimming<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Domes of dazzle: swirl on swirl,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Temples lifted columns, brimming<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Crystal flame, that seemed to whirl:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Battlemented moonstone darkled;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Palaces, pale-pillared, sparkled,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cloudy opal: and, far dimming,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Aqueducts of ghostly pearl.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Streaming steeples shone, of dædal<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Emblem; each an obelisk:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Minarets, each one a needle,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Balancing a bubble-disc;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some of diamond, like a blister<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Frozen; some of topaz-glister,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Vinous; in whose blinding middle<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Blazed an orb of burning bisque.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_421" id="page_421"></a>{421}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And I saw where, silvery slanted,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A vast pyramidic heap<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rose of spar; whereon was planted<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The acropolis of Sleep,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">God of these:—that, looming higher,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wrought of seeming ice and fire,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where pale rainbow-colors panted,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Gleamed above the lunar deep.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Robed in white simarre and chiton,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Visions filled its every square,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Moving like a finer light on<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Light: and in the glory there<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Music rang and golden laughter;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And before each shape, and after,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Radiance went, that shadowed white, on<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Temple and on palace stair.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Though they called me, I descended<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Earthward. For great longing drew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Me and, drawing me, was blended<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With your world. I never knew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It was Earth, until,—forsaking<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heaven,—I beheld it taking,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A great azure sphere,—its splendid<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Way along the singing blue.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_422" id="page_422"></a>{422}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And when night came, here, above you,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sleeping by your folded sheep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On the hills,—I stooped: whereof you<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dreamed: I kissed you in your sleep:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I, your destiny, who wrought it<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So you knew me: you, who thought it<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not so strange that I should love you,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I a spirit of the deep.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">’Twas your love that sought and found me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Drew me from that star-life sad;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Won my soul to yours and bound me<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With such love as none hath had:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I am she, you may remember,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That fair star that seemed an ember<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O’er you, that you loved.—Around me<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wrap your arms now and be glad.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Look above: what seems a petal,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Burning, of a rose; that far<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Point of radiance, bright as metal,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fiery silver, is your star!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Look above you: rise unto it.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let it lead you now who drew it<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Down to Earth, where shadows settle!—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On that star no shadows are!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_423" id="page_423"></a>{423}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="THE_SPIRIT_OF_THE_VAN" id="THE_SPIRIT_OF_THE_VAN"></a>THE SPIRIT OF THE VAN<br /><br /> -(<i>Love Ideal</i>)</h3> - -<p>“<i>Among the mountains of Carmarthen, lies a beautiful and romantic piece -of water, named The Van Pools. Tradition relates, that after midnight, -on New Year’s Eve, there appears on this lake a being named The Spirit -of the Van. She is dressed in a white robe, bound by a golden girdle; -her hair is long and golden; her face is pale and -melancholy</i>.”—Keightley’s “Fairy Mythology.”</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Midsummer-night; the Van. Through night’s wan noon,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wading the storm-scud of an eve of storm,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pale o’er Carmarthen’s peaks the mounting moon.—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wilds of Carmarthen! sombre heights, that swarm<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Girdling this water, as old giants might<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Crouch, guarding some enchanted gem of charm,—<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_424" id="page_424"></a>{424}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wilds of Carmarthen, that for me each night<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Reëcho prayers and pleadings,—all the year<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unanswered,—made to listening waters white!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Mountains, behold me yet again! Bend near!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Behold her lover! hers, that shape of snow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who dwells amid these pools; who will not hear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My heart’s wild pleading, calling loud, now low,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Unhappy, to her, ’mid the lonely hills.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Whene’er a ripple trembles into glow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where yeasty moonshine scuds the foam, straight thrills<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heart’s expectation through my veins, and high<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With “she!” each pulse the exultation fills.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But she ’tis never. Once ... and then! would I,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Would I had perished, so beholding!—World,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Twas you, O world, who would not let me die!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_425" id="page_425"></a>{425}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i2">Once I beheld her!—If some fiend had curled<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stiff talons in my hair, and, twisting tight,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Had raised me high, then into Hell had hurled;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fresh from that vision of her beauty white,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With Heaven in my soul, I, unamerced,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shackled with tortures, yet might mock Hell’s spite.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Immortal memory, quench in me this thirst!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O starlike vision, that a moment clove<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My sight, and then for ever left me curst!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh, make me mad with love, with all thy love!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Me, me, who seek thee ’mid these wilds when gloom<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Storms or drip gold the sibylline stars above!—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Let thy high coming in a flash consume<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The light of all the stars! and make me mad,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Mad with love’s madness! fill me with sweet doom!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sleep will I not now, for my soul is sad:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For, should I sleep, there might come other dreams,—<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_426" id="page_426"></a>{426}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sadder than thou art,—in thy beauty clad<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And all thy tyranny. To me it seems<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Better to wake here, underneath this pine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Until thy face upon my vision gleams.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou, who art wrought of elements divine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And I of crasser clay, clay that will think,<br /></span> -<span class="iq">“Since I am hers, why should she not be mine?”<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Again, its usual phantom, on the brink<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of thy lone lake, I ask thee: “Must I yearn<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Forever, haunted of that vision’s wink?”—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When, glassing out great circles, which did urn<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Some intense essence of interior light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(As clouds, that clothe the moon, unbinding, burn,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Riven, erupt her orb, triumphant white,)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I saw, midmost the Van, a feathering fire<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dilating ivory-wan.—Expectant night<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tiptoed attentive, fearful to suspire.—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wherefrom arose—what white divinity?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What godhead sensed with glory and desire?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Born for the moment for the eyes of me!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then re-absorbed into the brassy gloom<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of whispering waves that sighed their ecstasy.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_427" id="page_427"></a>{427}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou! in whose path harmonious colors bloom,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Pale pearl and lilac, asphodel and rose,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like many flow’rs auroral of perfume,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thou leftst me thus, to marvel as who knows<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He is not dead and yet it seems he is,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Since all his soul with spirit-rapture glows.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O sylph-like brow! lips like an angel’s kiss!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">High immortality! whose face was such<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As starlight in a lily’s loveliness!...<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The gold that bound thee seemed too base to clutch<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy chastity, though clear as golden gum<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That almugs sweat, and fragrance to the touch!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy hair—not hair!—seemed rays, like those that come<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Strained through the bubble of a chrysolite.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No word I said: thy beauty struck me dumb.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy face, that is upon my soul’s quick sight<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Eternal seared, hath made of me a shade,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A wandering shadow of the day and night:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A seeker ’mid the hoary hills for aid,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The sole society of my sick heart, who<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shuns all companionship of man and maid:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_428" id="page_428"></a>{428}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who, comrade of the mountain blossoms blue,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And intimate of old trees, goes dreaming they,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As in that legendary world that drew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oracles from lips in oaks—, may sometime say<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Prophetic precepts to it: how were won<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A spirit loved to love a mortal;—yea,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In vain.—<br /></span> -<span class="i8">But one day, frog-like in the sun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beside a cave,—the nightshade vines made rank<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And hairy henbane, where huge spiders spun,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wrinkled as Magic, I a grizzled, lank,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Squat something startled, naught save skin and hair;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With eyes wherein dwelt demons; flames, that shrank<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And grew;—familiars, who fixed me with glare<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As, raising claw-like hands when I drew near,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Frog-like he croaked, “Thou fool! go seek her there!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Woo her with thy heart’s actions! making clear<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_429" id="page_429"></a>{429}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy soul’s white passage for her coming feet!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In! in! thou fool! plunge in! Fear naught but fear!”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Yet I have waited many weeks. Repeat.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Acts of the heart with passionate offering<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of love whose anguish makes it seven times sweet.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still all in vain, in vain. To-night I bring<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My self alone; my soul unfearing, see!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My soul unto thee!—Shall the clay still cling<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Clogging fulfillment? and achievement be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Balked still by flesh?—no! let me in—to die,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Haply; or, for a moment’s mystery,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gaze in thine eyes: one splendid instant lie<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In thy white arms and bosom; and thy kiss,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My elemental immortality!—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Part of thy breathing waves, to laugh or hiss<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In foam; or winds, that rock the awful deeps,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or build with song vast temples for thy bliss.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wherein, responsive as thy white hand sweeps<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The chords of some sad shell, I’ll dream and roam<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_430" id="page_430"></a>{430}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through glaucous chambers where the green day sleeps.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dead not with death, what secrets hath thy home<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not mine then, epoched in exultant foam?...<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Deeper, down deeper! yea, at last I come!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_431" id="page_431"></a>{431}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="THE_CAVERNS_OF_KAF" id="THE_CAVERNS_OF_KAF"></a>THE CAVERNS OF KAF<br /><br /> -(<i>Love Sensual</i>)</h3> - -<p>“<i>‘Where am I?’ cried he; ‘what are these dreadful rocks? these -valleys of darkness? are we arrived at the horrible -Kaf?’</i>”—Vathek.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">One, Benreddin, I have heard,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Near the town of Mosul sleeping,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In a dream beheld a bird,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wonderful, with plumes of sweeping<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whiteness, crowned pomegranate-red:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, it seemed, his soul it led,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Brilliant as a blossom, keeping<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Near the Tigris as it fled.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Following, at last he came<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To a haggard valley, shouldered<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Under peaks that had no name:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where it vanished. ’Mid the bouldered<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Savageness a woman, fair,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_432" id="page_432"></a>{432}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">In a white simarre, stood there,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Auburn-haired; around whom smoldered<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pensive lights of purple air.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And she led him down to vast<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Caves of sardonyx, whose ceiling<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Domed one chrysoberyl. Blast<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On blast of music,—stealing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Out of aural atmospheres,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beat like surf upon his ears;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Then receded, faintly pealing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Psalteries and dulcimers.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Living figures seemed to heave<br /></span> -<span class="i2">High the walls, where, wild, embattled,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Warred Amshaspand and the Deev:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Over all two splendors rattled<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Arms of Heaven, arms of Hell;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Forms of flame that seemed to swell<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Godlike: Aherman who battled<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With Ormuzd he could not quell.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There she left him wond’ring; till<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The reverberant music, drifting,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Strong beyond his utmost will,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Drew him onward where, high lifting<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_433" id="page_433"></a>{433}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pillar and entablature,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Vast with emblem, yawned a door—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Valves of liquid lightning, shifting<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In and out and up and o’er.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Through the door he swept: deep-domed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Green with serpentine and beryl,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Loomed a cavern, crusted, foamed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Tortuous with gems of peril:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Difficult, a colonnade<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seemed, of satin-spar, to braid<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Deeps of labyrinthed and sterile<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tiger-spar that, twisting, rayed.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Dizzy stones of magic price<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Crammed volute and loaded corbel:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Irridescent shafts of ice<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Leapt: with long reëchoed warble<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Waters unto waters sang:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Crystal arc and column sprang<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Into fire as each marble<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fountain flung its foam that rang.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And around him, filled with sound,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Streams of resonant colors jetted:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rainbow surf that interwound<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Crypts and arcades, crescent-fretted:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_434" id="page_434"></a>{434}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mists of citron and of roon;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lemon lights that mocked the moon;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shot with scarlet, veined and netted,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beating golden hearts of tune.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Suns arose, of blinding blue;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Moons of green-dilating splendor:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In whose centers slowly grew<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Spots like serpents’ eyes that, slender,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Glared; at first, prismatic beams;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then, intolerable gleams;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hissing trails of fire, tender<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As an houri’s breath that dreams.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Characters of Arabic,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Cabalistic, red as coral,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flashed through violet veils, so quick<br /></span> -<span class="i2">None might read: as if, in quarrel,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Iran wrote of Turan there<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hate and scorn, or, everywhere,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wrought some talisman of moral<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Strength no Afrit’s heart would dare.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sounding splendors drew him on<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To another cavern; hollow;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hewn of alabastar wan;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lucid; where his gaze could follow<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_435" id="page_435"></a>{435}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Caves in caves; transparent flights<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rolling, lost in moving lights,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Glaucous gold: he like a swallow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O’er a lake the morning smites.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Down the dome flashed out and in<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Instant faces of the Peris:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Restless eyes of Deevs and Jinn<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the walls watched: unseen Faeries<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Out of rainbows rained and tossed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flowers of fire full of frost;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Blossoms where the fire varies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gold and green and crimson-mossed.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then there met him, face to face,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Seven odalisques of Heaven,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Swinging in a silver space<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Flaming censers: and the seven,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Crowned with stars of burning green,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seemed to turn to incense; seen,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As it rose, to be a driven<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hippogrif, or rosmarine.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Aloes, Nard, and Ambergris,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sandal, Frankincense, and Civet,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Genii of the fragrances,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Rein each winged aroma; give it<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_436" id="page_436"></a>{436}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Spurs and race it down the lull<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the caverns, clouded dull<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With wild manes of musk; now vivid,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Vaporous white and wonderful.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And Benreddin’s aching soul,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In each sense intoxicated,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Reached, at last, what seemed the goal<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of all passion: golden-gated,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Vast, a fountain: where he saw<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Limbs of light without a flaw;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Breasts and arms of bloom; that waited<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For his soul to nearer draw.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Houri faces shimmered there;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fluid forms.—It, with a thunder<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of wild music, like the hair<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of a genie, flamed from under<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Caverns of the demon-world:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Filled with voices, high it hurled,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Calling him, with beckoning wonder<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of cœrulean forms that swirled.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And with burning lips and eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In he plunged: hoarse laughter greeted,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Demon laughter: then sad sighs,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dying downward: passion-heated<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_437" id="page_437"></a>{437}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hands seemed drawing him away,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Downward: where a rocking ray<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Flamed and swung, and Eblis-sheeted<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shadows wandered ghostly gray.<br /></span> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">. . . . . . . . . .</span><br /> -<span class="i0">And, ’tis said, that he was young,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Young that morning. When the darting,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Anguish-throated bulbuls sung,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the silent starlight starting,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One, a Baghdad merchant, led<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By the hoarness of its head,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Found what seemed a mummy: parting<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hair from brow, Benreddin—dead.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_438" id="page_438"></a>{438}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="THE_SALAMANDER" id="THE_SALAMANDER"></a>THE SALAMANDER<br /><br /> -(<i>Love Dæmonic</i>)</h3> - -<p>“<i>The Fire-Philosophers, and the Rosicrucians, or Illuminati, taught -that all knowable things (both of the soul and of the body) were evolved -out of fire, and finally resolvable into it: and that fire was the last -and the only-to-be known God: as that all things were capable of being -searched down into it, and all things were capable of being thought up -into it.</i>”—The Rosicrucians.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Once she breathed upon my eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Touched the soul that dreamed within me;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All the magic that might win me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whispered to my heart with sighs—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Darkness can not make them lies!...<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Bring me moly, hellebore!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mix them for my soul’s nepenthe,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For my spirit’s dread Amenti,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For the curse that comes once more<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With unutterable lore!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_439" id="page_439"></a>{439}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sunlight, starlight or the moon,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stormlight, firelight or the sheening<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Witchlight intimate no meaning<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of her glory’s plenilune;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of her soul’s unriddled rune,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And most awful beauty! nor<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Actual, nor yet ideal!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Insubstantial and yet real;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Partly flame and partly star,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet no part of what these are.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I am hers and—woe is mine!...<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Has she drugged me with the sadness<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of some elemental madness?—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like a demigod I pine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Twixt the mortal and divine....<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When I see her, lo, she stands<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the luminous electre<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of a star: a smiling spectre<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With white scintillating hands<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Luring to unhallowed lands.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then, behold, in fearful file,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A mirage of tower and terrace,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lawn and mountain range,—that buries<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_440" id="page_440"></a>{440}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flame in frost,—looms! mile on mile<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of her crescent-glowing Isle:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Where the lurid waters lull<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shores that roll the rainbow fire;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where, with living lute and lyre,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rose-red, swiftly as a gull,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Glides her star-like galley’s hull.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And, behold, before I know,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I am where her walls of amber,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Towers of limpid ruby, clamber<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Over terraces below<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Summits of refulgent snow.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Lambent lazuli and shell<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Colonnade her courts of marble;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where, of lightning, fountains warble<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Out of basined pearl, or well<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Into hollowed carbuncle.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Rosy silver seems her skin,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And a flame her arm commanding,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With its gleaming hand, me, standing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At her gates, to enter in,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Burning as a Seraphin.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_441" id="page_441"></a>{441}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Lucid darkness are her eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the frozen fire smolders;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And upon her shining shoulders,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like a tangible glitter, lies<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Auburn hair like sunset skies.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Mouth of sibilant soft flame;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lilith lips, whose roses lighten<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With illusive love; and brighten<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With wild passion and the name<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of desire no man may tame.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Passion, and the thoughts that wed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love and loathing; such caresses<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of sweet touch as naught expresses<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here on Earth, yet full of dread,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Madness, whereof death is bred.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She hath drawn me to her lips;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Borne me through her palace portal;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the fire, which is immortal,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From me like a garment slips—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah, the spirit-part’s eclipse!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">As when moon and planet swoon<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unto each, my body kindles,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Strangely, while my spirit dwindles,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_442" id="page_442"></a>{442}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like the Earth-o’ershadowed moon,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Darkening from lune to lune.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then she laughs; and leads me where<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cloudy, wild, chameleon color<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Marbles halls with hues, the duller<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For her astral presence there,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beaming white with beaming hair:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Where, in roses purple pale,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dropping like a ruby bubble<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through the moon dust,—“double double,”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Throbs the crimson nightingale,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There she lures me with some tale.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Or to where the scarlet snake<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Coils beneath great flaming flowers;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the musk mimosa bowers<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Roll their rosy clouds, and make<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sunset heavens of each lake.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Where the bees and moths go by,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fiery diamond; opal-burning<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Butterflies, and iris-turning<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Peacock-painted birds, that vie<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With the flow’rs, like fragments fly<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_443" id="page_443"></a>{443}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of wild rainbow: Where, in rills,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Down the rocks, that lichens redden,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Constellated moss and leaden<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fungus glow; and all the hills,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As with flames, the orchid fills.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Where, in coruscating light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Glare the golden-checkered zinnias;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the bugle-bloomed gloxinias,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Making morning of each height,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Float like mists of ruby white.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There, beneath some blazing vine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the liquid moonlight glitters<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of a river,—coral litters<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Red with grail,—like prisms in wine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I have watched the fishes shine.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Or, o’er sunset-colored moss,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Glow-worms trail their beryls; sprinkling<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Green the smouldering shade; while, twinkling,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With convulsive sapphire gloss,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fireflies rained blue lights across.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Where the reeds seemed rays of rose,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And white mirrored moons, the lotus—<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_444" id="page_444"></a>{444}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each a spirit giving notice<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the inner light that glows<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the under water flows—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Shapes arose of flashing spray:—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where, a wild auroral splendor,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rolled the forest,—emerald-tender<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As the light of breaking day,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beckoned forms of starry ray.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Through the violetish light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Winged with nautilus and lily<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flame, adown the forests stilly<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Vistas, moony whirls of white,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Floated shapes with eyes of night.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I must follow where she leads.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blinding portals of her castle<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To my entering feet are facile....<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love no terrible trumpet needs<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At her gates to bugle deeds....<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Lo, my being never veils<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Aught from her. To her caresses<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All my heart knows it confesses<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With a faith that never fails,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though it hears the truth that wails<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_445" id="page_445"></a>{445}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">In its soul’s admonishment,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the curse that sits in session<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In each amorous expression<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of her love; its violent<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flame, by which my life is rent.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I have drained the feverish cup<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of all darkness. Made a leman<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of an elemental demon;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And my soul lies, staring up,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Draining poison at each sup.—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">While she smiles on me ’tis well:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I shall follow, though she make me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What her self is; never wake me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From the dream I can not tell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That is neither heaven nor hell:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Where I drink mesmeric gold<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of wild vision,—that romances<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In informing Protean fancies<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With a beauty never old,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And emotion never cold.—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Let me drink and never wake<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From the trances that environ<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Me, and ’neath the subtle siren<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_446" id="page_446"></a>{446}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">See the demon, like a snake,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With destroying eyes that ache.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">While the slow laconic look<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of her eyes express no censure,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gazing in them, I adventure,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Far beyond the wisest book,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ways her serpent fancy took.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet I know I reverence<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One whose gaze in God’s negation;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One who, like an emanation<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of all evil, chains my sense<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With satanic influence.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet, while still I hear her say,<br /></span> -<span class="iq">“One more kiss before the morning!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One more bliss for love’s adorning!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One more kiss ere break of day,”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still my soul with her must stay.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Stay, nor know, nor ever see!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till her basilisk beauty flashes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the curse, from out the ashes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of her passion, fiery,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Strikes—destroying utterly.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_447" id="page_447"></a>{447}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="LYANNA" id="LYANNA"></a>LYANNA.</h3> - -<p>“<i>These elementary beings, we are told, were by their constitution more -long-lived than man, but with this essential disadvantage, that at death -they wholly ceased to exist. In the meantime they were inspired with an -earnest desire for immortality; and there was one way left for them, by -which this desire might be gratified. If they were so happy as to awaken -in any of the initiated (Rosicrucians) a passion, the end of which was -marriage, then the sylph became immortal.</i>”—Godwin’s “Lives of the -Necromancers.”</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Summer came over the Indian Ocean<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Girdled with fire, tiaraed with light;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her eyes all languor, her lips—a potion<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To quaff—of poppy. And gold and white<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She flashed and sparkled; all gleam and motion,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All blush and blossom she came; and I,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the race of the sylphs, o’er the Indian Ocean<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Followed her through the sky.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_448" id="page_448"></a>{448}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Self-exiled so from the sylphs that cluster,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Pulsing with pearl and burning with blue,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In domes of the dawn,—where the organs bluster<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Low of the winds,—where they glow like dew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As the day dreams up, and their armies muster,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ranges of glitter, in cloudy gold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At the gates of the Dawn, of blinding luster,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To forth when her gates unfold.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For Summer murmured me, “Follow! follow!”<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whispered one word that was all of love.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Winged with the speed of the sweeping swallow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I followed the word she had breathed above:<br /></span> -<span class="iq">“Follow! follow!”—the god Apollo<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Never followed, with speed as strong<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The flying nymph through holt and hollow,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">As I that word of song.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Fleet as the winds are fleet, yea, and fleeter<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Far than the stars that throb, like foam,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through the firmament’s blue, in musical metre<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_449" id="page_449"></a>{449}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i2">Winnowed my wings; and the golden gloam<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rang; and life was a passion, completer<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Than a life in Eden; and love,—a lyre<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That sang in my heart and made life sweeter<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With hope,—a leaping fire.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thus to the north my wings went maying<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Radiant ways, till a castle shone<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gaunt on great cliffs, with the late skies graying<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O’er walls of war and their towers lone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With tortuous steps to the sea, where, spraying,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thundered the breakers; and terrace and stair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rock o’er the waters, rose rosy and raying<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Deep in the sunset’s glare.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A dewdrop burns when the dawn lights prickle:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And all my being tingled with light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bloomed when I saw her, tarrying fickle,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">White on the castled height:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Slender she shone as the moon in sickle,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The slim new-moon, like a pearl-pale streak;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And golden, too, as the honey-trickle<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of combs where the wax is weak.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_450" id="page_450"></a>{450}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In dreams I came to her, lo! as a vision:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yea, by her side as a dream I stood;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To her innermost spirit I sighed my mission,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the vestal ear of her maidenhood:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And she deemed me a dream; and I made a prison<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of my arms for her soul while she, smiling, slept:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her body lay still, but her soul had arisen,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And looked on my face and wept:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Lyanna, I hoop thee with arms of fire!”—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My words were music, a harp afloat,—<br /></span> -<span class="iq">“Lyanna, my heart is a vibrant wire,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy love is its only note.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let it sing forever. Let it sound entire,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Full as the angels’ who hover and harp<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the glory that’s God, like a golden lyre<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Borne in a beam that is sharp....<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Behold me, thy rose! full of flame and splendor!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy rose to pluck: thy ruby bloom:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy sylphid rose, with eyes that are tender;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lips that are fire; and limbs of perfume<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And fragrant fire: thy heart’s defender!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_451" id="page_451"></a>{451}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy airy lover!” ... And, bending above,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweeter my speech than a flower’s that, slender,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Tells to the stars its love.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Lo, as I spoke, with thoughts that thicken,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her heart seemed filled; and she spoke; but sleep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shadowed her words, till my kiss did quicken<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And free, like stars from the night that leap:—<br /></span> -<span class="iq">“Long I have waited; and long did sicken<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To clasp thee thus, O my rose of love!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oft have I dreamed of thee, yea, and was stricken<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With joy at the thought thereof.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“White are the clouds; but I saw thee whiter<br /></span> -<span class="i2">’Mid dazzling domes of the dawn; and knew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tho’ bright are God’s stars, that thine eyes were brighter,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Brighter and burning blue.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And my heart was thine, though it held thee slighter<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_452" id="page_452"></a>{452}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i2">Than hues that the mists of the morning take:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And waited and yearned, and the yearning tighter<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Than tears in the hearts that break.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>Lyanna! Lyanna!’ I heard thee ever<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Calling ‘Lyanna,’ a ripple of flame:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Lyanna! Lyanna!’ like song forever;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And I marveled at my name.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sound was such—that if stars could sever<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And silver-syllable a word of beams,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So would it sound.—I turned; but never<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Beheld thee, only in dreams.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Thou walkedst a beauty afar: a glitter<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of gleaming aroma: and I, with moan,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Reached thee my arms: but thy gaze was bitter,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Calmer and sterner than stone:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Avoiding thou passedst in scorn: a sitter,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I seemed, on the uttermost bounds of bliss:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When, lo! on the wind,—a flame, a flitter<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of fire,—thy laugh, and thy kiss!”—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I had won her love. And, behold! the thunder<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_453" id="page_453"></a>{453}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i2">Trumpeted tempest: I heard the seas<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lunge at the walls like a roaring wonder,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the rain-wind sing in the trees.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lyanna my bride.—And the heavens asunder<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Rushed—chasms of glaring storm, where poured<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The thunder’s cataracts, rolling under—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And showed me, horde on horde,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The shouting spirits of storm.—The portal<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of sleep was riven; she rose, and saw:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I said to her soul, “Of the utterly mortal<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Mine the eternal lot and law.”—<br /></span> -<span class="iq">“I love thee!” she answered.—And I, “Immortal<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Am I through thy love!” ... And so we fled....<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Behold! when they came in the morn, astartle,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Men whispered—“Lyanna is dead!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_454" id="page_454"></a>{454}</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><a name="THE_SPIRITS_OF_LIGHT_AND_DARKNESS" id="THE_SPIRITS_OF_LIGHT_AND_DARKNESS"></a>THE SPIRITS OF LIGHT AND DARKNESS</h3> - -<p class="c"><i>Voices of Darkness</i></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ere the birth of Death and of Time,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And of Hell, with its tears and its torments:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ere the waves of heat and of rime,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the winds to the heavens were as garments:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cloud-like in the womb of Space,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Mist-like from her monster womb,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We sprang, a myriad race<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of thunder and tempest and gloom.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="c"><i>Voices of Light</i></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">As from the evil good<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Springs, and desire:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As the white lily’s hood<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Buds from the mire:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So from this midnight brood<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sprang we with fire.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_455" id="page_455"></a>{455}</span></p> - -<p class="c"><i>Voices of Darkness</i></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We had lain for long ages asleep<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In her bosom, a bulk of torpor,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When down through the vasts of the deep<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Clove a sound, like the notes of a harper:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Clove a sound, and the horrors grew<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Tumultuous with turbulent night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With whirlwinds of blackness that blew,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And storm that was godly in might.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the walls of our dungeon were shattered<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like the crust of a fire-wrecked world:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As torrents of clouds that are scattered,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From the womb of the deep we were hurled.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="c"><i>Voices of Light</i></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Us in unholy thought<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Patiently lying,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Eöns of violence wrought,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Violence defying;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When, on a mighty wind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Voiced of a godly mind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Big with a motive kind,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Girdled with wonder,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flame and a strength of song,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rolling vast light along,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_456" id="page_456"></a>{456}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thundered the Word, and Wrong<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Vanished,—and we were strong,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Strong as the thunder.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="c"><i>Voices of Darkness</i></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We people the lower spaces,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where our cities of silence make scorn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the sun, and our shadowy faces<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Are safe from the splendors of morn.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our homes are wrecked worlds and each planet<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whose sun is a light that is sped;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bleak moons, whose cold bodies of granite<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are hollow and flameless and dead.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="c"><i>Voices of Light</i></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We in the living sun<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Live like a passion:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ere the sad Earth begun<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We and the sun were one,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As God did fashion.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lo! from our burning hands,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flung like inspired brands,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sowed we the worlds, like sands,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Countless as ocean:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_457" id="page_457"></a>{457}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And ’tis our breath gives life,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Life to those stars, all rife<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With iridescent strife,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Music and motion.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="c"><i>Voices of Darkness</i></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We joy in the hate of all mortals;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Inspire their crimes and the thought<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That falters and halts at the portals<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of actions, intentions unwrought.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We cover the face of to-morrow:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We frown in the hours that be:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We breathe in the presence of sorrow:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And death and destruction are we.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="c"><i>Voices of Light</i></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We are man’s hope and ease,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Joy and his pleasure;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Authors of love and peace,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love that shall never cease,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Free as the azure.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lo! we but look, and light<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heartens the world with might,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Vanquishes death and night<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hate and its burnings:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_458" id="page_458"></a>{458}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And from our bosoms stream<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beauty and yearnings<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For a diviner dream,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Higher discernings.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="c"><i>Voices of the Break of Day</i></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Morning and birth are ours;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Light that is blown<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From our fair lips; and flowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dropped from our hands in showers,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Seeds that are sown:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Song and the bursting buds,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Life of the fields and floods;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Strength that’s full-grown:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, from our beryl jars,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Filled with the clouds and stars,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pour we the winds and dew;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While by our eyes of blue<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Darkness is rent in two,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Conquered and strown.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="c"><i>Voices of the Dawn</i></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ye in your darkness are<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dark and infernal;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Subject to death and mar!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But in the spaces far,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like our effulgent star,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We are eternal.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_459" id="page_459"></a>{459}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="THE_WATER_WITCH" id="THE_WATER_WITCH"></a>THE WATER WITCH</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">See! the milk-white doe is wounded.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He will follow as it bounds<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through the woods. His horn has sounded,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Echoing, for his men and hounds.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But no answering bugle blew.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He has lost his retinue<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For the shapely deer that bounded<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Past him when his bow he drew.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Not one hound or huntsman follows.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through the underbrush and moss<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Goes the slot; and in the hollows<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of the hills, that he must cross,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He has lost it. He must fare<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Over rocks where she-wolves lair;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wood-pools where the wild-boar wallows:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So he leaves his hunter there.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Through his mind then flashed an olden<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Legend told him by the monks:—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of a girl, whose hair is golden,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Haunting fountains and the trunks<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_460" id="page_460"></a>{460}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the woodlands; who, they say,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is a white doe all the day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But when woods are night-enfolden<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Turns into an evil fay.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then the story once his teacher<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Told him: of a mountain lake<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Demons dwell in; vague of feature,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Human-like; but each a snake,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She is queen of.—Did he hear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Laughter at his startled ear?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or a bird?—And now, what creature<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is it,—or the wind,—stirs near?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Fever of the hunt! This water,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Falling here, will cool his head.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through the forest, dyed in slaughter,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Slants the sunset; ruby-red<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are the drops that slip between<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hollowed hands, while on the green,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like the couch of some wild daughter<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the forest,—he doth lean.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But the runnel, bubbling, dripping,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Seems to bid him to be gone;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As with crystal words and tripping<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Steps of sparkle luring on.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_461" id="page_461"></a>{461}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now a spirit in the rocks<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Calls him; now a face that mocks,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From behind some boulder slipping,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Laughs at him through lilied locks.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And he follows through the flowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Blue and gold, that blossom there;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thridding twilight-haunted bowers<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where each ripple seems the bare<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beauty of white limbs that gleam<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rosy through the running stream;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or bright-shaken hair, that showers<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Starlight in the sunset’s beam.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Till, far in the forest, sleeping<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like a luminous darkness, lay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A deep water, wherein, leaping,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fell the Fountain of the Fay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With a singing, sighing sound,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As of spirit things around,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Musically laughing, weeping<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the air and underground.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Not a ripple o’er it merried:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like the round moon in a cloud,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In its rocks the lake lay buried:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And strange creatures seemed to crowd<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_462" id="page_462"></a>{462}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its dark depths: dim limbs and eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the surface seemed to rise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Spawn-like; or, all formless, ferried<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through the water shadow-wise.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Foliage things with woman faces,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Demon-dreadful, pale and wild<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As the forms the lightning traces<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On the clouds the storm has piled<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the darkness.—On the strand—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What is that which now doth stand?—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Tis a woman: and she places<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On his arm a spray-white hand.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah! two mystic worlds of sorrow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Were her eyes; her hair, a place<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whence the moon its gold might borrow;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And a dream of ice her face:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Round her hair and throat in rims<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pearls of foam hung; and through whims<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of her robe, as breaks the morrow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gleamed the rose-light of her limbs.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who could help but gaze with gladness<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On such beauty? though within,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Deep within the beryl sadness<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of those eyes, the serpent sin<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_463" id="page_463"></a>{463}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seemed to coil.—She placed her cheek<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Chilly upon his, and weak<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With love-longing and its madness<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Grew he. Then he heard her speak:—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Dost thou love me?”—“If surrender<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of the soul means love, I love.”<br /></span> -<span class="iq">“Dost not fear me?”—“Fear?—more slender<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Art thou than a wildwood dove.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet I fear—I fear to lose<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thee, thy love.”—“And thou dost choose<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Aye to be my heart’s defender?”—<br /></span> -<span class="iq">“Take me. I am thine to use.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Follow then.—Ah, love, no lowly<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Home I give thee.”—With fixed eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the water’s edge she slowly<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Drew him.... Nor did he surmise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who this creature was, until<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O’er his face the foam closed chill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whispering, and the lake unholy<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rippled, rippled and was still.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_464" id="page_464"></a>{464}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="THE_SUCCUBA" id="THE_SUCCUBA"></a>THE SUCCUBA</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I have dreams where I believe<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That a queen of some dim palace,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One, whose name is Genevieve,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Weighs me with her love or malice:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She is dead and yet my bride:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And she glimmers at my side<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Offering a crystal chalice<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Filled with fire, diamond-dyed.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I have dreams. Ah, would that I<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Might forget them!—I remember<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How her gaze, all icily<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Draws me, like a glowing ember,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Up her castle-stair’s pale-paved<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Alabaster, from the waved<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ocean, grayer than November,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where I linger, soul-enslaved.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Walls of shadow and of night<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lit with casements full of fire,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Somber red or piercing white:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As the wind breathes lower, higher,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_465" id="page_465"></a>{465}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Round the towers spirit-things<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whisper, and the haunted strings<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Moan of each huge, plangent lyre<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Set upon its four chief wings.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In its corridors at tryst<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Flame-eyed phantoms meet. Its sparry<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Halls are misty amethyst:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Battlemented ’neath the starry<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Skies it looms; the strange unknown<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Skies where, green as glow-worms, sown,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Gloom the stars; the moon hangs barry<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beryl, low and large and lone....<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Can it be a witch is she?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or a vampire? she, far whiter<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than the spirits of the sea!—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She whose eyes are cold, yet brighter<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than her throat’s pale jewels. Lo!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flame she is though seeming snow:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And her love lies tighter, tighter<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On my heart than utter woe.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Though I dream, it seems I live;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And my heart is sick with sorrow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the love that it must give<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To her; passion, it must borrow<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_466" id="page_466"></a>{466}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of herself, unhallowed, vain;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then return it her again:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thus she holds me; and to-morrow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still will hold with sweetest pain.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In her garden’s moon-white space<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Strangest flowers bloom: huge lilies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each one with a human face;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Knots of spirit-amaryllis;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cactus-bulks with pulpy blooms<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gnome-like in the silver glooms;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And dim deeps of daffadillies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fay-like, brimming faint perfumes.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But to me their fragrance seems<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Poison; and their lambent lustre,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Spun of twilight and of dreams,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Poison; and each pearly cluster<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hides a serpent’s fang. And I,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Looking from an oriel, sigh;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For my soul is fain to muster<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heart to breathe of them and die.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then I feel big eyes, as bright<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As the sea-stars. Gray with glitter,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She behind me, moony white,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Smiles, ’mid hangings wherein flitter<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_467" id="page_467"></a>{467}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Loves and deeds of Amadis<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Darkly worked. And then her kiss<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On my mouth falls; sweet and bitter<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With a bliss that is not bliss.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And I kiss her eyes and hair;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Smooth her tresses till their golden<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Glimmer sparkles. Everywhere<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shapes of strange aromas, holden<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the walls, around us troop;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in golden loop on loop,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of the lull’d eyes vague beholden,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Forms of music o’er us stoop.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet I see beneath it all,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All this sorcery, a devil,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beautiful, and white, and tall,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Broods with shadowy eyes of evil:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She, who must resume with morn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her true shape: a cactus-thorn,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Monstrous, on some lonely level<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of that demon-world forlorn.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I have dreams where I believe<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That a queen of some dim palace,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One, whose name is Genevieve,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Weighs me with her love or malice:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_468" id="page_468"></a>{468}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all night I am her slave<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There beside the demon wave,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where I drain the loathsome chalice<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of her love, that is my grave.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_469" id="page_469"></a>{469}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="MASKS" id="MASKS"></a>MASKS<br /><br /> -<i>Cucullus non facit monachum</i></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Live it down! as you have spoken<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You could live it ere you knew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What love was—“a bauble broken,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Foolish, of a thing untrue.”—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You, Viola, with your beauty,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cloistered, die a nun? No! you—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You must wed: it is your duty.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There’s your poniard; for the second<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In this tazza dropped: the blood<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On it scarcely hard.... I reckoned<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Happily that hour we stood<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There upon your palace-stairway,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How, with the Franciscan hood<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cowled, I said, there was a bare way.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In the minster there I found it—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our revenge. I saw him, wild,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stalking towards the church: around it<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_470" id="page_470"></a>{470}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dogged him, marking how he smiled<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the moonlight where I waited.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the great clock, beating, dialed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ten, I knew he would be mated.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Heaven or my better devil!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hardly had his sword and plume<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Vanished in the dark, when, level<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On the long lagoon, did loom,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Under moonlight-woven arches,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her slim gondola: all gloom:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One tall gondolier: no torches.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Dusky gondolas kept bringing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Revellers: and far the night<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rang with instruments and singing.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From the imbricated light<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the oar-vibrating water,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gliding up the stairway, white,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Velvet-masked,—the count’s own daughter!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Quick I met her: whispered, “Flora,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gaston.—<i>Mia</i>, till they go,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One brief moment here, Siora.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She’ll perceive us—she, below,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">See! the duchess’ diamonds sparkling<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Round the inviolable glow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of her throat—there, dimly darkling:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_471" id="page_471"></a>{471}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“That’s Viola!” ... Thus I drew her<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the church’s ancient pile—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Under her black mask I knew her,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By her chin, her lips, her smile.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through one marble-foliated<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Window fell the moon-rays. While<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All the maskers passed we waited.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I had drawn the dagger. Turning<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Called her by her name. Some lie<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of a passion sighed, her burning<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hand in mine; when, stalking by,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the square, <i>his</i> form bejeweled<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gleamed. My very blood burned dry<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With the hate his presence fueled.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Our revenge! up-pushing slightly<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cowl, the mask fell, and revealed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Balka, as the poniard whitely<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flashed. The hollow nave re-pealed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One long shriek the loft repeated.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Swift, I stabbed her thrice. She reeled<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dead. I thought of you, the heated<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Horror on my hands; and tarried<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still as silence. Drawn aside<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On her face the mask hung, married<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_472" id="page_472"></a>{472}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">To its camphor-pallor: wide<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Eyes with terror—stone. One second<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I regretted; then defied<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All remorse. Your promise beckoned;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And I left her. Love had pointed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Me this way. I walked the way<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Clear-eyed and ... it has anointed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Us fast lovers?—Do not say,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now, that you will go and nun it!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For this man who scorned you?—Nay!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Live to hate him! You ’ve begun it.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_473" id="page_473"></a>{473}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="CARMEN" id="CARMEN"></a>CARMEN</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>La Gitanilla</i>, tall dragoons<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In Andalusian afternoons,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With ogling eye and compliment,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Smiled on you as along you went<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some sleepy street of old Seville;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Twirled with a military skill<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Moustaches; buttoned uniforms<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of Spanish yellow bowed your charms.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Proud, wicked head, and hair blue-black,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whence the mantilla, half thrown back,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Discovered shoulders and bold breast<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bohemian brown. And you were dressed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In some short skirt of gypsy red<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of smuggled stuff; and stockings,—dead<br /></span> -<span class="i0">White silk,—that, worn with many a hole,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let the plump leg peep through; while stole,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now in, now out, your dainty toes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sheathed in morocco shoes, with bows<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of scarlet ribbon.—Flirtingly<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You walked by me; and I did see<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_474" id="page_474"></a>{474}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your oblique eyes, your sensuous lip<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That gnawed the rose I saw you flip<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At bashful José’s nose while loud<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The gaunt guards laughed among the crowd.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in your brazen chemise thrust,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heaved with the swelling of your bust,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A bunch of white acacia blooms<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whiffed past my nostrils hot perfumes.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">As in a cool <i>neveria</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0">I ate an ice with Mérimée,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dark Carmencita, very gay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You passed, with light and lissome tread,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All holiday bedizenéd;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A new mantilla on your head:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your crimson dress gleamed, spangled fierce;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And crescent gold, hung in your ears,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shone, wrought Morisco; and each shoe,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of Cordovan leather, buckled blue,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Glanced merriment; and from large arms<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To well-turned ankles all your charms<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blew flutterings and glitterings<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of satin bands and beaded strings:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Around each tight arm, twisted gold<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Coiled serpents, and, a single fold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wreathed wrists; each serpent’s jeweled head,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With rubies set, convulsive red.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_475" id="page_475"></a>{475}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">In flowers and trimmings, to the jar<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of mandolin and gay guitar,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You in the grated patio<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Danced: the curled coxcombs’ staring row<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rang pleased applause. I saw you dance,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With wily motion and glad glance,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Voluptuous, the wild <i>romalis</i>,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where every movement was a kiss,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A song, a poem, interwound<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With your Basque tambourine’s dull sound.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I,—as the ebon castanets<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Clucked out dry time in unctuous jets,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Saw angry José through the grate<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Glare on us, a pale face of hate,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When some indecent officer<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Presumed too lewdly to you there.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Some still night in Seville: the street<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Candilejo: two shadows meet:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Swift sabres flash within the moon—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Clash rapidly.—A dead dragoon.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_476" id="page_476"></a>{476}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="AT_NINEVEH" id="AT_NINEVEH"></a>AT NINEVEH</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There was a princess once, who loved the slave<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of an Assyrian king, her father; known<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At Nineveh as Hadria; o’er whose grave<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The sands of centuries have long been blown;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet sooner shall the night forget its stars<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Than love her story:—How, unto his throne,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One day she came, where, with his warriors,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The King sat in his hall of audience,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Mid pillared trophies of barbaric wars,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And, kneeling to him, asked, “O father, whence<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Comes love and why?”—He, smiling on her said,—<br /></span> -<span class="iq">“O Hadria, love is of the gods, and hence<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Divine, is only soul-interpreted.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But why love is, ah, child, we do not know,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unless ’t is love that gives us life when dead.”—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And then his daughter, with a face aglow<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_477" id="page_477"></a>{477}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">With all the love that clamored in her blood<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Its sweet avowal, lifted arms of snow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, like Aurora’s rose, before him stood,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Saying,—“Since love is of the powers above,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I love a slave, O Asshur!—Let the good<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The gods have giv’n be sanctioned.—Speak not of<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dishonor and our line’s ancestral dead!<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>They</i> are imperial dust. <i>I</i> live and love.”—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Black as black storm then rose the King and said,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A lightning gesture sweeping at her there,—<br /></span> -<span class="iq">“Enough! ho, Rhana, strike me off her head!”<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And at the mandate, with his limbs half bare<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A slave strode forth. Majestic was his form<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As some young god’s. He, gathering up her hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wound it three times around his sinewy arm;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Then drew his sword. It for one moment shone<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A semicircling light, and, dripping warm,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lifting the head he stood before the throne.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then said the despot, “By the horn of Bel!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">This was no child of mine!”—Like chiseled stone<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stern stood the slave, a son of Israel.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_478" id="page_478"></a>{478}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i2">Then striding towards the monarch, in his eye<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wrath of heaven and the hate of hell,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shrieked, “Beast! I loved her! look on us and die!”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Swifter than fire clove him to the brain.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Then kissed her face, and, holding it on high,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cried out, “Judge thou, O God, between us twain!”<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And, fifty daggers in his heart, fell slain.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_479" id="page_479"></a>{479}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="SENORITA" id="SENORITA"></a>SENORITA</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">An agate black, her roguish eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Claim no proud lineage of the skies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No starry blue; but of good earth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The reckless witchery and mirth.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Looped in her raven hair’s repose,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A hot aroma, one red rose<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Droops; envious of that loveliness,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through being near which, its is less.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Twin sea-shells hung with pearls, her ears;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose delicate rosiness appears<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Part of the pearls; whose pallid fire<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Binds the attention these inspire.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">One slim hand crumples up the lace<br /></span> -<span class="i0">About her bosom’s swelling grace;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A ruby at her samite throat<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lends the required color-note.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_480" id="page_480"></a>{480}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The moon brings up the violet night<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An urn of pearly-chaliced light;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And from the dark-railed balcony<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She stoops and waves her fan at me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O’er orange blossoms and the rose<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Vague, odorous lips the South Wind blows,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Peopling the night with whispers of<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Romance and palely passionate love.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And now she speaks; and seems to reach<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My soul like song that learned its speech<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From some dim instrument—who knows?—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or flow’r, a dulcimer or rose.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_481" id="page_481"></a>{481}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="SINCE_THEN" id="SINCE_THEN"></a>SINCE THEN</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I found myself among the trees<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What time the reapers ceased to reap;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in the sunflower-blooms the bees<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Huddled brown heads and went to sleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rocked by the balsam-breathing breeze.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I saw the red fox leave his lair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A shaggy shadow, on the knoll;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, tunnelling his thoroughfare<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beneath the soil, I watched the mole—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stealth’s own self could not take more care.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I heard the death-moth tick and stir,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Slow-honeycombing through the bark;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I heard the cricket’s drowsy chirr,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And one lone beetle burr the dark—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sleeping woodland seemed to purr.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And then the moon rose: and a white<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Low bough of blossoms—grown almost<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where, ere you died, ’t was our delight<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To tryst,—dear heart!—I thought your ghost:<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_482" id="page_482"></a>{482}</span> —The wood is haunted since that night.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><a name="AFTER_DEATH" id="AFTER_DEATH"></a>AFTER DEATH</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">At moonset, when ghost speaks with ghost<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And spirits meet where once they sinned,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Between the whispering wood and coast,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My soul met her soul on the wind,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My late-lost Evalind.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I kissed her mouth. Her face was wild.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Two burning shadows were her eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wherein the love,—that once had smiled<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A heartbreak smile,—in some strange wise,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I did not recognize.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then suddenly I seemed to see<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How sin had damned my soul and doomed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To wander thus eternally<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With love and loathing, that assumed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The form of her entombed.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_483" id="page_483"></a>{483}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="THE_OLD_MAN_DREAMS" id="THE_OLD_MAN_DREAMS"></a>THE OLD MAN DREAMS</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The blackened walnut in its spicy hull<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Rots where it fell;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, in the orchard, where the trees stand full,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">The pear’s brown bell<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Drops; and the log-house in the bramble lane,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">From whose low door<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stretch yellowing acres of the corn and cane,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">He sees once more.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The cat-bird sings upon its porch of pine;<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And o’er its gate,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All slender-podded, twists the trumpet-vine<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Its leafy weight:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in the woodland, by the spring, mayhap,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">With eyes of joy<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Again he bends to set a rabbit-trap,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">A brown-faced boy.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then, whistling, through the underwoods he goes,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Out of the wood,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_484" id="page_484"></a>{484}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where, with young cheeks, red as an autumn rose,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">In gingham hood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His sweetheart waits, her school-books on her arm:<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And now it seems<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beside his chair bends down his wife’s fair form—<br /></span> -<span class="i6">The old man dreams.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_485" id="page_485"></a>{485}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="MEMORIES" id="MEMORIES"></a>MEMORIES</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Here where Love lies perishéd,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Look not in upon the dead,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lest the shadowy curtains, shaken<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In my Heart’s dark chamber, waken<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ghosts, beneath whose garb of sorrow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whilom gladness bows his head:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When you come at morn, to-morrow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Look not in upon the dead,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here where Love lies perishéd.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Here where Love lies cold interred,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let no syllable be heard,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lest the hollow echoes, housing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In my Soul’s deep tomb, arousing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wake a voice of woe, once laughter<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Claimed and clothed in joy’s own word:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When you come at dusk, or after,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let no syllable be heard,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here where Love lies cold interred.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_486" id="page_486"></a>{486}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="MARCH_AND_MAY" id="MARCH_AND_MAY"></a>MARCH AND MAY</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Windy the sky and mad;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Surly the gray March day;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bleak the forests and sad,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Oh, that it only were May!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">On maples, tasseled with red,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No blithe bird, fluting, swung;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The brook, in its swollen bed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Raved on in an unknown tongue.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We walked in the wind-tossed wood:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her face as the May’s was fair;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her blood was the May’s own blood;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And May’s her radiant hair.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And we found in the woodland wild<br /></span> -<span class="i2">One cowering violet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like a frail and timorous child,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the caked leaves bowed and wet.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And I said, “We have walked in vain!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To find but this shivering bud,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Weighed down with its weight of rain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Crouched here in the wild March wood.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_487" id="page_487"></a>{487}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But she said, “Though the day be sad,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the skies be dark with fate,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There is always something glad<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That will help our hearts to wait.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Look, now, at this beautiful thing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In this wood’s wild hollow curled!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Tis a promise of joy and spring,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And of love, to the waiting world.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Ah, the sinless Earth is fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And man’s are the sin and the gloom—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come, bury the days that were,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And look to’ard the days to come!”<br /></span> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">. . . . . . . . . .</span><br /> -<span class="i0">And the May came on with her charms,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With twinkle and rustle of feet;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blooms stormed from her luminous arms<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And songs that were wildly sweet.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now I think of her words that day,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">This day that I longed so to see,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That finds her dead with the May,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And my life but a withered tree.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_488" id="page_488"></a>{488}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="IN_AUTUMN" id="IN_AUTUMN"></a>IN AUTUMN</h3> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sunflowers wither and lilies die,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Poppies are pods of seeds;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The first red leaves on the pathway lie,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like blood of a heart that bleeds.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Weary alway will it be to-day,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Weary and wan and wet;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dawn and noon will the clouds hang gray,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the autumn wind will sigh and say,<br /></span> -<span class="iq">“He comes not yet, not yet,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Weary alway, alway!”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hollyhocks bend all tattered and torn,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Marigolds all are gone;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The last pale rose lies all forlorn,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like love that is trampled on.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Weary, ah me! to-night will be,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Weary and wild and hoar;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rain and mist will blow from the sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the wind will sob in the autumn tree,<br /></span> -<span class="iq">“He comes no more, no more.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Weary, ah me! ah me!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_489" id="page_489"></a>{489}</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><a name="WHEN_SHE_DRAWS_NEAR" id="WHEN_SHE_DRAWS_NEAR"></a>“WHEN SHE DRAWS NEAR”</h3> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">When she draws near,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">I seem to hear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The shy approach of some wild innocence:<br /></span> -<span class="i6">As if—in acorn crown—<br /></span> -<span class="i6">A dryad should step down<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From some dim oak-tree where the woods are dense.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">When she’s with me,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">I seem to see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The brambles blossom where just touched her dress:<br /></span> -<span class="i6">As, with her love’s perfume,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">She touches into bloom<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The thorns of life and gives them loveliness.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_490" id="page_490"></a>{490}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="REED_CALL_FOR_APRIL" id="REED_CALL_FOR_APRIL"></a>REED CALL FOR APRIL</h3> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When April comes, and pelts with buds<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And apple-blooms each orchard space,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And takes the dogwood-whitened woods<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With rain and sunshine of her moods,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like your fair face, like your sweet face:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">It’s honey for the bud and dew,<br /></span> -<span class="i5">And honey for the heart!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And, oh, to be away with you<br /></span> -<span class="i5">Beyond the town and mart.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When April comes and tints the hills<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With gold and beryl that rejoice,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And from her airy apron spills<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The laughter of the winds and rills,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like your young voice, like your sweet voice:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_491" id="page_491"></a>{491}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">It’s gladness for God’s bending blue,<br /></span> -<span class="i5">And gladness for the heart!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And, oh, to be away with you<br /></span> -<span class="i5">Beyond the town and mart.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>III</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When April comes, and binds and girds<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The world with warmth that breathes above,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And to the breeze flings all her birds,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose songs are welcome as the words<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of you I love, O you I love:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">It’s music for all things that woo,<br /></span> -<span class="i5">And music for the heart!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And, oh, to be away with you<br /></span> -<span class="i5">Beyond the town and mart.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_492" id="page_492"></a>{492}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="HER_VIOLIN" id="HER_VIOLIN"></a>HER VIOLIN</h3> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Her violin!—Again begin<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The dream-notes of her violin;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And tall and fair, with gold-brown hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I seem to see her standing there,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Soft-eyed and sweetly slender:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The room again, with strain on strain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Vibrates to Love’s melodious pain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As, sloping slow, is poised her bow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While round her form the golden glow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of sunset spills its splendor.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Her violin!—Now deep, now thin,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Again I hear her violin;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, dream by dream, again I seem<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To see the love-light’s tender gleam<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beneath her eyes’ long lashes:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While to my heart she seems a part<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_493" id="page_493"></a>{493}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of her pure song’s inspired art;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, as she plays, the rosy grays<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of twilight halo hair and face,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While sunset burns to ashes.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>III</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O violin!—Cease, cease within<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My soul, O haunting violin!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In vain, in vain, you bring again,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Back from the past, the blissful pain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of all the love then spoken;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When on my breast, at happy rest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A sunny while her head was pressed—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Peace, peace to these wild memories!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For, like my heart naught remedies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her violin lies broken.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_494" id="page_494"></a>{494}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="MEETING_IN_SUMMER" id="MEETING_IN_SUMMER"></a>MEETING IN SUMMER</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">A tranquil bar<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of rosy twilight under dusk’s first star.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">A glimmering sound<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of whispering waters over grassy ground.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">A sun-sweet smell<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of fresh-reaped hay from dewy field and dell.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">A lazy breeze<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Jostling the ripeness from the apple-trees.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">A vibrant cry,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Passing, then gone, of bullbats in the sky.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">And faintly now<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The katydid upon the shadowy bough.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">And far off then<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The little owl within the lonely glen.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_495" id="page_495"></a>{495}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">And soon, full soon,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The silvery arrival of the moon.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">And, to your door,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The path of roses I have trod before.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">And, sweetheart, you!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Among the roses and the moonlit dew.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_496" id="page_496"></a>{496}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="HER_VIVIEN_EYES" id="HER_VIVIEN_EYES"></a>HER VIVIEN EYES</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Her Vivien eyes,—beware! beware!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though they be stars, a deadly snare<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They set beneath her night of hair.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Regard them not! lest, drawing near—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As sages once in old Chaldee—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou shouldst become a worshiper,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And they thy evil destiny.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Her Vivien eyes,—away! away!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though they be springs, remorseless they<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gleam underneath her brow’s bright day.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Turn, turn aside, whate’er the cost!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lest in their deeps thou lures behold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through which thy captive soul were lost,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As was young Hylas once of old.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Her Vivien eyes,—take heed! take heed!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though they be bibles, none may read<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Therein of God or Holy Creed.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Look, look away! lest thou be cursed,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As Merlin was, romances tell,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in their sorcerous spells immersed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hoping for Heaven thou chance on Hell.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="figcenter"><a name="look" id="look"></a> -<a href="images/i_496a_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_496a_sml.jpg" width="401" height="500" alt="[Image unavailable.]" /></a> -</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I look into thy heart and then I know<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wondrous poetry of the long-ago<br /></span> -<span class="i12"><a href="#page_496">Page 496</a><br /></span> -<span class="i14"><i>Reasons</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_497" id="page_497"></a>{497}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="REASONS" id="REASONS"></a>REASONS</h3> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yea, why I love thee let my heart repeat:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I look upon thy face and then divine<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How men could die for beauty, such as thine,—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Deeming it sweet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To lay my life and manhood at thy feet,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And for a word, a glance,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Do deeds of old romance.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yea, why I love thee let my heart unfold:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I look into thy heart and then I know<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The wondrous poetry of the long-ago,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The Age of Gold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That speaks strange music, that is old, so old,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Yet young, as when ’t was born,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With all the youth of morn.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_498" id="page_498"></a>{498}</span></p> - -<h4>III</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yea, why I love thee let my heart conclude:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I look into thy soul and realize<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The undiscovered meaning of the skies,—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That long have wooed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The world with far ideals that elude,—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Out of whose dreams, maybe,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">God shapes reality.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_499" id="page_499"></a>{499}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="HER_VESPER_SONG" id="HER_VESPER_SONG"></a>HER VESPER SONG</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The summer lightning comes and goes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In one white cloud above the hill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As if within its soft repose<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A burning heart were never still—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As in my bosom pulses beat<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before the coming of his feet.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All drugged with odorous sleep, the rose<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Breathes dewy balm about the place,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As if the dreams the garden knows<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Arose, in immaterial grace—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As in my heart sweet thoughts arise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beneath the ardour of his eyes.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The moon above the darkness shows<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An orb of silvery snow and fire,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As if the night would now disclose<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To heav’n her one divine desire—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As in the rapture of his kiss<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All my glad soul is drawn to his.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_500" id="page_500"></a>{500}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The cloud divines not that it glows;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The rose knows nothing of its scent;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor knows the moon that it bestows<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Light on our earth and firmament—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So is the soul unconscious of<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The beauties it reveals through love.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_501" id="page_501"></a>{501}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="THE_GLORY_AND_THE_DREAM" id="THE_GLORY_AND_THE_DREAM"></a>THE GLORY AND THE DREAM</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There in the past I see her as of old,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blue-eyed and hazel-haired, within a room<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dim with a twilight of tenebrious gold;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her white face sensuous as a delicate bloom<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Night opens in the tropics. Fold on fold<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pale laces drape her; and a frail perfume,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As of a moonlit lily brimmed with rain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Breathes from her presence, drowsing heart and brain.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Her head is bent; some red carnations glow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Deep in her heavy hair; her large eyes gleam;—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bright sister stars of those twin worlds of snow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her breasts, through which the veinéd violets stream.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I hold her hand; her smile comes sweetly slow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As thoughts of love that haunt a poet’s dream:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And at her feet once more I sit and hear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wild words of passion—dead this many a year.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_502" id="page_502"></a>{502}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="SNOW_AND_FIRE" id="SNOW_AND_FIRE"></a>SNOW AND FIRE</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Deep-hearted roses of the purple dusk<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And lilies of the morn;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And cactus, holding up a slender tusk<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of fragrance on a thorn;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All heavy flowers, sultry with their musk,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her presence puts to scorn.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For she is like the pale, pale snowdrop there,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Scentless and chaste of heart;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The moonflower, making spiritual the air,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like some pure work of art;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Divine and holy, exquisitely fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And virtue’s counterpart.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet when her eyes gaze into mine, and when<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her lips to mine are pressed,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why are my veins all fire then? and then<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Why should her soul suggest<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Voluptuous perfumes, maddening unto men,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And prurient with unrest?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_503" id="page_503"></a>{503}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="IN_MAY" id="IN_MAY"></a>IN MAY</h3> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When you and I in the hills went Maying,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">You and I in the bright May weather,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The birds, that sang on the boughs together,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There in the green of the woods, kept saying<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All that my heart was saying low,<br /></span> -<span class="iq">“I love you! love you!” soft and low;—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And did you know?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When you and I in the hills went Maying.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There where the brook on its rocks went winking,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There by its banks where the May had led us,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Flowers, that bloomed in the woods and meadows,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Azure and gold at our feet, kept thinking<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All that my soul was thinking there,<br /></span> -<span class="iq">“I love you! love you!” softly there;—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And did you care?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There where the brook on its rocks went winking.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_504" id="page_504"></a>{504}</span></p> - -<h4>III</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Whatever befalls through fate’s compelling,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Should our paths unite or our pathways sever,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the Mays to-come I shall feel forever<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wildflowers thinking, the wild-birds telling,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In words as soft as the falling dew,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The love that I keep here still for you,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">As deep and true,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whatever befalls through fate’s compelling.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_505" id="page_505"></a>{505}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="WERE_I_AN_ARTIST" id="WERE_I_AN_ARTIST"></a>“WERE I AN ARTIST”</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Were I an artist, Lydia, I<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Would paint you as you merit,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not as my eyes, but dreams descry;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Not in the flesh, but spirit.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The canvas I would paint you on<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Should be a strip of heaven;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My brush, a sunbeam; pigments, dawn<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And night and starry even.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Your form and features to express<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Likewise your soul’s chaste whiteness,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’d take the primal essences<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of darkness and of brightness.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I’d take pure night to paint your hair;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Stars for your eyes; and morning<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To paint your skin—the rosy air<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Which is your limbs’ adorning.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_506" id="page_506"></a>{506}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To paint the love-bows of your lips,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I’d mix, for colors, kisses;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And for your breasts and finger-tips,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sweet odors and soft blisses.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And to complete the picture well,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I’d temper all with woman,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some tears, some laughter; heaven and hell,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To show you yet are human.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_507" id="page_507"></a>{507}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="THE_RIDE" id="THE_RIDE"></a>THE RIDE</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She rode o’er hill, she rode o’er plain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She rode by fields of barley,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By morning-glories filled with rain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Along the wood-side gnarly.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She rode o’er plain, she rode o’er hill,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">By orchard land and berry;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her eyes were sparkling as the rill,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Cheeks, redder than the cherry.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A bird sang here, a bird sang there,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Then blithely sang together;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sang sudden greeting everywhere,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">“Good-morrow!” and “Good weather!”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The sunlight’s laughing radiance<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Laughed in her radiant tresses;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The bold breeze made her wild curls dance,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And flushed her face with kisses.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_508" id="page_508"></a>{508}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Why ride you here, why ride you there,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Why ride you here so merry?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sunlight living in your hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And in your cheek the berry?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Why ride you with your sea-green plumes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your sea-green silken habit,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By balmy bosks of faint perfumes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And haunts of roe and rabbit?”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“The morning ploughed the east with gold,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And planted it with holly;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I was young and he was old,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And rich, and melancholy.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“A wife they ’d have me to his bed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And to the church they hurried;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But now, gramercy! he is dead!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thank God! is dead and buried.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“I ride by tree, I ride by rill,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I ride by rye and clover,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For by the church beyond the hill<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Awaits my first true lover.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_509" id="page_509"></a>{509}</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><a name="AT_PARTING" id="AT_PARTING"></a>AT PARTING</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What is there left for us to say,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now it is time to speak good-by?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all our dreams of yesterday<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are one with yester-evening’s sky—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What is there left for us to say,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now different ways before us lie?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A word of hope, a word of cheer,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A word of love, whose help shall last,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When we are far to bring us near<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through memories of the happy past;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A word of hope, a word of cheer,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To keep our young hearts true and fast.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What is there left for us to do,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now it is time to say farewell?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And care, that bade us once adieu,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Returns again with us to dwell—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What is there left for us to do,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now different ways our fates compel?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_510" id="page_510"></a>{510}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Clasp hands and kiss, touch lips and smile,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And look the love that shall remain—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When severed so by many a mile—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sweetest balm for bitterest pain:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Clasp hands and kiss, touch lips and smile,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And trust to God to meet again.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_511" id="page_511"></a>{511}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="IN_THE_GARDEN_OF_GIRLS" id="IN_THE_GARDEN_OF_GIRLS"></a>IN THE GARDEN OF GIRLS</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Serious, but smiling, stately and serene,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And lovelier than a flower,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She stands; in whom all sympathies convene<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As perfumes in a bower;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through whom I feel what soul and heart must mean,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And all their love and power.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Eyes, that commune with the frank skies of truth,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beneath their cloud-like curls;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lips of immortal rose, where joy and youth<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nestle like priceless pearls;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hair, that suggests the Bible braids of Ruth,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Deeper than any girl’s.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When first I saw her, ’t was as if within<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My gaze took shape some song—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Played by a master of the violin—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A music, pure and strong,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That rapt my soul above all earthly sin<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To heights that know no wrong.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_512" id="page_512"></a>{512}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="COME_TO_THE_HILLS" id="COME_TO_THE_HILLS"></a>“COME TO THE HILLS”</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Come to the hills, the woods are green—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The heart is high when lovers meet—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There is a brook that flows between<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Mossed rocks where we will make our seat,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where we will sit and speak unseen.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I hear you laughing in the lane—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The heart is high when lovers meet—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The clover smells of sun and rain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And spreads a carpet for our feet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where we will walk and dream again.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Come to the woods, the dusk is here—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The heart is high when lovers meet—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A bird upon the branches near<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sets music to our hearts’ sweet beat,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our hearts that beat with something dear.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I hear your step; the lane is passed—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The heart is high when lovers meet—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The little stars come bright and fast,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like happy eyes that watch us, Sweet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That see us greet and kiss at last.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_513" id="page_513"></a>{513}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="EVASION" id="EVASION"></a>EVASION</h3> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Why do I love you, who have never given<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My heart encouragement or any cause?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is it because, as earth is held of heaven,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your soul holds mine by some mysterious laws?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Perhaps, unseen of me, within your eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i6">The answer lies.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">From your sweet lips no word hath ever fallen<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To tell my heart its love is not in vain—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The bee that woos the flow’r hath honey and pollen<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To cheer him on and bring him back again:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But what have I, your other friends above,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">To feed my love?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_514" id="page_514"></a>{514}</span></p> - -<h4>III</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Still, still you are my dream and my desire;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your love is an allurement and a dare<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Set for attainment, like a shining spire,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Far, far above me in the starry air:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And gazing upward, ’gainst the hope of hope,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">I breast the slope.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_515" id="page_515"></a>{515}</span></p> - -<h3>WILL YOU FORGET?</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In years to come, will you forget,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dear girl, how often we have met?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I have gazed into your eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And there beheld no sad regret<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To cloud the gladness of their skies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While in your heart—unheard as yet—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love slept, oblivious of my sighs?—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In years to come, will you forget?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah, me! I only pray that when,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In other days, some man of men<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Has taught those eyes to laugh and weep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With joy and sorrow, hearts must ken<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When love awakens in their deep,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I only pray some memory then,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or sad or sweet, you still will keep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of me and love that might have been.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_516" id="page_516"></a>{516}</span></p> - -<h3>CONTRASTS</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No eve of summer ever can attain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The gladness of that eve of late July,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When ’mid the roses, dripping with the rain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Against the wondrous topaz of the sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I met you, leaning on the pasture bars,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While heaven and earth grew conscious of the stars.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No night of blackest winter can repeat<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The bitterness of that December night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When, at your gate, gray-glittering with sleet,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Within the glimmering square of window-light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We parted,—long you clung unto my arm,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While heaven and earth surrendered to the storm.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_517" id="page_517"></a>{517}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="CARISSIMA_MEA" id="CARISSIMA_MEA"></a>CARISSIMA MEA</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I look upon my sweetheart’s face,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And, in the world about me, see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No face like hers in any place.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It is not made, as others sing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of their young loves, like ivory,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But like a wild-rose in the spring.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Her brow is low and very fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And o’er it, smooth and shadowy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lies deep the darkness of her hair.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Beneath her brows her eyes gleam gray,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And gaze out glad and fearlessly—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their wonder haunts me night and day.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Her eyebrows, arched and delicate,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Twin curves of penciled ebony,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Within their spans contain my fate.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Her mouth, that was for kisses curved,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So small and sweet!—it well may be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That it for me is yet reserved.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_518" id="page_518"></a>{518}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Between her hair and rounded chin,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Calm with her soul’s calm purity,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There lies no shadow of a sin.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Of perfect form, she is not tall,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Just higher than the heart of me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O’er which I place her, all in all.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She is not shaped, as some have sung<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of their young loves, like some slim tree,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But like the moon when it is young.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Her hands, that smell of violet,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So white and fashioned fragrantly,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Have woven round my heart a net.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yea, I have loved her many a day;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And though for me she may not be,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still at her feet my love I lay.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Albeit she be not for me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">God send her grace and grant that she<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Know naught of sorrow all her days,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And help me still to sing her praise!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_519" id="page_519"></a>{519}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="AN_AUTUMN_NIGHT" id="AN_AUTUMN_NIGHT"></a>AN AUTUMN NIGHT</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Some things are good on autumn nights,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When with the storm the forest fights,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in the room the heaped hearth lights<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Old-fashioned press and rafter:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Plump chestnuts hissing in the heat,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A mug of cider, sharp and sweet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And at your side a face petite,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With lips of laughter.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Upon the roof the rolling rain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, tapping at the window-pane,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wind that seems a witch’s cane<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That summons spells together:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A hand within your own a while;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A mouth reflecting back your smile;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And eyes, two stars, whose beams exile<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All thoughts of weather.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_520" id="page_520"></a>{520}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And, while the wind lulls, still to sit<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And watch her fire-lit needles flit<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A-knitting, and to feel her knit<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your very heart-strings in it:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then, when the old clock ticks “<span class="lftspc">’</span>t is late,”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To rise, and at the door to wait<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Two words, or, at the garden-gate,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A kissing minute.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_521" id="page_521"></a>{521}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="A_DAUGHTER_OF_THE_STATES" id="A_DAUGHTER_OF_THE_STATES"></a>A DAUGHTER OF THE STATES</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She has the eyes of some barbarian Queen<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Leading her wild tribes into battle; eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wherein th’ unconquerable soul defies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Love sits throned, imperious and serene.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And I have thought that Liberty, alone<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Among her mountain stars, might look like her,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Kneeling to God, her only emperor,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Kindling her torch on Freedom’s altar-stone.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For in her self, regal with riches of<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beauty and youth, again those Queens seem born—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Boadicea, meeting scorn with scorn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Ermengarde, returning love for love.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_522" id="page_522"></a>{522}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="THE_QUARREL" id="THE_QUARREL"></a>THE QUARREL</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">An instant only and her eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flashed lightning like the angry skies;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And o’er her forehead, curving down,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fell dark the shadow of a frown;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then backward, deep and stormy fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She tossed the tempest of her hair;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then of her lips’ full rose disdain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Made a pink-folded bud again;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then quicker than all utterance,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All changed: and at a word, a glance,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Her anger rained its tears, then passed;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And she was in my arms at last;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The austere woman, doubly dear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And lovelier for each falling tear:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But why we quarreled, how it grew,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I can not tell, I never knew:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_523" id="page_523"></a>{523}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Perhaps ’t was Love; he, who, with tears,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Would show how fair a face appears;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">As, after storm, the sky ’s more blue,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A wildflower ’s fairer for the dew.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_524" id="page_524"></a>{524}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="MIRIAM" id="MIRIAM"></a>MIRIAM</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What better praise for all her ways<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Than that all days her ways illume?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Such brightness as the maiden year<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Knows, when God’s kindness seems as near<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As flowers whose wisdom ’s but to bloom.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hers the deep hair: a face more fair<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Than roses June sets blossoming:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sunshine of her gladness gleams<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In bloom-bright lips and cheeks, and dreams<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Upon her throat’s soft coloring.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Her voice is sweet as birds that greet<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With song the coming of the light:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The serious happy gleam that lies<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the dark lustre of her eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is as the starlight to the night.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Beyond the sea such girls as she<br /></span> -<span class="i2">It was whom Titian loved to paint,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With calm Madonna eyes, and hair<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rich auburn; robed in gold and vair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fair as the vision of a saint.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_525" id="page_525"></a>{525}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="THE_SUMMER_SEA" id="THE_SUMMER_SEA"></a>THE SUMMER SEA</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Over the summer sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the white-eyed stars look pale,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the moonbeams make a trail<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of gold through the waves for me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I turn my ghostly sail<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Away, away,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And follow the form I see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Over the summer sea.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Over the misty sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ere the cliff which highest soars<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From the billow-beaten shores<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Reddens all rosily,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the witch-white water roars,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Far on, far on.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through the foam she beckons me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Over the summer sea.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Over the haunted sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the great, gold moon low lies<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On the rim of the western skies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Twixt the moon, she comes, and me,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_526" id="page_526"></a>{526}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And gazes in my eyes;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Low down, low down,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Twixt the orbéd moon and me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Over the summer sea.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Deep in the bitter sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wilt thou drag me down, O sweet?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Down, down! from hair to feet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Filled with thee utterly?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Against thy heart’s wild beat?—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">At last! at last!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wilt drag me down with thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Deep in the summer sea?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_527" id="page_527"></a>{527}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="FINALE" id="FINALE"></a>FINALE</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So let it be. Thou dare not say ’t was I!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here in life’s temple, where thy soul can see,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Look where the beauty of our love doth lie,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shattered in shards, a dead divinity!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Approach: kneel down: yea, render up one sigh!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This is the end. What need to tell it thee!<br /></span> -<span class="i14">So let it be.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So let it be. Care, who hath stood with him,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sorrow, who sat by him deified,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For whom his face made comfort,—lo! how dim<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They heap his altar which they can not hide,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While memory’s lamp swings o’er it, burning slim.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This is the end. What shall be said beside?<br /></span> -<span class="i14">So let it be.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_528" id="page_528"></a>{528}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So let it be. Did we not drain the wine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Red, of love’s sacramental chalice, when<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He laid sweet sanction on thy lips and mine?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dash it aside! Lo, who will fill again<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now it is empty of the god divine!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This is the end. Yea, let us say Amen.<br /></span> -<span class="i14">So let it be.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_529" id="page_529"></a>{529}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="CONCLUSION" id="CONCLUSION"></a>CONCLUSION</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The songs Love sang to us are dead:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet shall he sing to us again,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the dull days are wrapped in lead,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the red woodland drips with rain.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The lily of our love is gone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That graced our spring with golden scent:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now in the garden low upon<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wind-stripped way its stalk is bent.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Our rose of dreams is passed away,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That lit our summer with sweet fire:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The storm beats bare each thorny spray,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And its dead leaves are trod in mire.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The songs Love sang to us are dead:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet shall he sing to us again,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the dull days are wrapped in lead,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the red woodland drips with rain.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_530" id="page_530"></a>{530}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The marigold of memory<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall fill our autumn then with glow:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Haply its bitterness will be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweeter for love of long-ago.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The cypress of forgetfulness<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall haunt our winter with its hue:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its apathy to us not less<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dear for the dreams love’s summer knew.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/back.jpg" width="344" height="500" alt="[Image -of the book's back cover unavailable.]" /> -</div> - -<hr class="full" /> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Poems of Madison Cawein, vol. 2, by -Madison Cawein - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE POEMS OF MADISON CAWEIN, VOL. 2 *** - -***** This file should be named 54902-h.htm or 54902-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/4/9/0/54902/ - -Produced by Larry B. 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