When jay birds sing, and thrushes fret, When snowfalls come in flakes of jet, When hearts that shelter love are light, I may forget.
When mortal life no cares beset, When April brings no violet, When wrong no longer wars with right, When all hope"s ships shall heave in sight, And memory holds no least regret, I may forget.
TRIFLES
Only a spar from a broken ship Washed in by a careless wave; But it brought back the smile of a vanished lip, And his past peered out of the grave.
Only a leaf that an idle breeze Tossed at her pa.s.sing feet; But she seemed to stand under the dear old trees, And life again was sweet.
Only the bar of a tender strain They sang in days gone by; But the old love woke in her heart again, The love they had sworn should die.
Only the breath of a faint perfume That floated up from a rose; But the bolts slid back from a marble tomb, And I looked on a dear dead face.
Who vaunts the might of a human will, When a perfume or a sound Can wake a Past that we bade lie still, And open a long closed wound?
COURAGE
Whether the way be dark or light My soul shall sing as I journey on, As sweetly sing in the deeps of night As it sang in the burst of the golden dawn.
Nothing can crush me, or silence me long, Though the heart be bowed, yet the soul will rise, Higher and higher on wings of song, Till it swims like the lark in a sea of skies.
Though youth may fade, and love grow cold, And friends prove false, and best hopes blight, Yet the sun will wade in waves of gold, And the stars in glory will shine at night.
Though all earth"s joys from my life are missed, And I of the whole world stand bereft, Yet dawns will be purple and amethyst, And I cannot be sad while the seas are left.
For I am a part of the mighty whole; I belong to the system of life and death.
I am under the law of a Great Central, And strong with the courage of love and faith.
THE OTHER
All alone with my heart to-night I sit, and wonder, and sigh.
What is she like, is she dark, or light, This other woman who has the right To love him better than I?
We never have spoken her name, we two; There was no need somehow, But she lives, and loves, and her heart is true; From the very first this much I knew, So why should it hurt me now.
I fancy her tall, and I think her fair, Oh! fairer than I by half.
With sweet, calm eyes, and a wealth of hair, And a heart as perfectly free from care As is her silvery laugh.
She loves rich jewels that flash in the light, And revels in costly lace, And first in the morning, and last at night She kisses one ring on her finger white; (How came those tears on my face?)
She has all best things to make life sweet: Youth, and beauty, and gold, And a love that renders it quite complete.
(I wonder why from my head to my feet I feel so deathly cold?)
Yet in all the store of her great delight (And she has so much, so much) She cannot be gladder than I, in the bright Sweet smile he gave her when he said good night-- And his warm hand"s close, kind touch.
I must put out the light and go to bed; I wonder would she care If she knew, when I knelt with low bowed head, I prayed for her, but that I said His name the last in my prayer?
MAD
Could I but hear you laugh across the street, Though I, or mine, shared nothing in your glee, Could I taste that one drop of bitter sweet, "Twere more than life to me.
If I might see you coming through the door, Though with averted face and smileless eye, Were I allowed that little boon, no more, Then I were glad to die.
But oh, my G.o.d! this living day on day, Stripped of the only joy your starved heart had, Shut in a prison world and forced to stay-- Why that way souls go mad!
To-day I heard a woman say the earth, All blossom garlanded, was fair to see.
I laughed with such intensity of mirth, The woman shrank from me.
Fair? Why, I see the blackness of the tomb Where"er I turn, and grave mould on each brow; And grinning faces peer out of the gloom-- Good G.o.d! I _am_ mad now.
WHICH
We are both of us sad at heart, But I wonder who can say Which has the harder part, Or the bitterer grief to-day.
You grieve for a love that was lost Before it had reached its prime; I sit here and count the cost Of a love that has lived its time.
Your blossom was plucked in its May, In its dawning beauty and pride; Mine lived till the August day, And reached fruition and died.
You pressed its leaves in a book, And you weep sweet tears o"er them.
Dry eyed I sit and look On a withered and broken stem.
And now that all is told, Which is the sadder, pray, To give up your dream with its gold, Or to see it fade into grey?
LOVE"S BURIAL