Part 11

But I would wear, instead, Wild forest flowers, twined about my head-- And I would dance, barefooted, on the sod, An innovation to my pagan God!

Am I a queen? What is this crown I wear? I tear it from my smoothly plaited hair-- I lay my ring, my rope of pearls, aside; Am I a queen--am I a monarch's bride? The soul of me is still a gypsie thing-- I pull them off, the glowing gems, the ring....

I love my king, I love him well--but, oh, GIVE ME MY RAGS, AGAIN, AND LET ME GO!

FRAGMENTS

A WITHERED ROSE

A book of verse, And one withered rose Between two pages....

My love is as faded as the petals, But still faintly fragrant With sweet memories.

ASHES OF LOVE

Dust on the letters you sent me And I did not know that they had been forgotten.

Does it mean that I love again?

IT'S LOTS OF FUN--

It's lots of fun to play around, To dance and sing; And not be tied to anyone, Or anything!

It's lots of fun to live my life, Beneath the sky; To have no one who owns the right To question "Why"?

It's lots of fun to come and go, Through storm and strife, With no one by my side who hopes To mould my life.

(But sometimes at the twilight time, When night birds cry; I dream, perhaps, that something fair Has passed me by!)

And yet--it's good to play around, To laugh and sing; And not be tied to anyone, Or anything!

VALENTINE

I wonder if you know, up there in heaven, That I have kept your roses, crumpled now. I wonder if you guess that still I treasure A faded ribbon that once touched your brow. I wonder if you dream, as dusk is falling, Of how I read that note you sent to me. I wonder if you think, up there in heaven, Of all the golden days that used to be.

I wonder if you smile up there in heaven, And pass by, lightly, in your robes of white; Or if you sometimes think of me a little. You seem so near, so very near tonight. I wonder if that last shy kiss I gave you Can make you lonely, just a bit, for me. I wonder if you long, up there in heaven, For all the golden plans that used to be.

Do they have valentines up there in heaven? A love like mine is surely strong to go The little way from earth to where you wait me, Although it be beyond the stars' faint glow. I want you dear; my tired heart is calling; My eyes are searching, though they may not see; I wonder if you're lonely, there in heaven, For all the golden dreams that used to be.

THE SACRIFICE

I started out in a cloak of pride, With talent, too, that I did not hide; I started out on Life's stony road, Ambition's weight was my only load, And the way seemed fair in the dawn's first glow, And I hurried--ran--FOR I DID NOT KNOW!

Love smiled from a garden by the way, And called to me, but I would not stray From the road that stretched like a ribbon white, Up endless hills to an endless night. Love smiled at me, but I pushed ahead, And love fell back in the garden--dead-- But I did not care as I hastened by, And I did not pause for regret or sigh.... The road before was a path of hope, And every hill with its gentle slope Led up to heights I had dreamed and prayed To reach some day-- Ah! I might have stayed With Love and Youth in the garden gay, That smiled at me from beside the way.

I plodded up, and the gentle hills Grew hard to climb, and the laughing rills Were torrents peopled with sodden forms; The sky grew black with the threat of storms, And rocks leaped out and they bruised my feet, And faint I grew in the fever heat. (But ever on led the path that lay As grey as dust in the waning day.) My back was bent, and my heart was sore, And the cloak of pride that I grandly wore Was rent and patched and not fair to see-- Ambition, talent, seemed naught to me.... But I struggled on 'till I reached the top, FOR ONLY THEN DID I DARE TO STOP!

I stood on the summit gazing down, And the earth looked sordid and dull and brown, And neutral-tinted and neutral-souled; And all of life seemed a story told, And the only spot that was bright to see Was a patch of green that had bloomed for me Where a garden lived in a spring long fled, When Love stood smiling-- BUT LOVE WAS DEAD!

TO A CERTAIN ROOM

Your room is still the dainty little place, That used to seem so much a part of you-- The draperies of faded rose and blue Still hold a shadow of their former grace. The windows still are hung with frosty lace, And sometimes, when the moonlight glimmers through, I watch your mirror, half expecting to See once again, reflected there, your face!

And yet, the little room seems much too neat, It seems quite colorless, and very bare, Because the filmy things you used to wear Are laid away. Because the perfume sweet That clung about you has been swept aside.... Your room is there--but, oh, its soul has died!