Part 12

“Little Blue Hood is coming now!” And we watch from the window while she goes by, She has such a bonny, smooth, white brow, And a fearless look in her long-lashed eye! And a certain dignity wedded to grace Seems to envelop her form and face.

Every morning, in sun or rain, She walks by the window with sweet, grave air, And never guesses behind the pane We two are watching and thinking her fair; Lovingly watching her down the street, Dear little Blue Hood, bright and sweet.

Somebody ties that hood of blue Under the face so fair to see, Somebody loves her, beside we two, Somebody kisses her—why can’t we? Dear Little Blue Hood fresh and fair, Are you glad we love you, or don’t you care?

NO SPRING

Up from the South come the birds that were banished, Frightened away by the presence of frost. Back to the vale comes the verdure that vanished, Back to the forest the leaves that were lost. Over the hillside the carpet of splendour, Folded through Winter, Spring spreads down again; Along the horizon, the tints that were tender, Lost hues of Summer-time, burn bright as then.

Only the mountains’ high summits are hoary, To the ice-fettered river the sun gives a key. Once more the gleaming shore lists to the story Told by an amorous Summer-kissed sea. All things revive that in Winter time perished, The rose buds again in the light o’ the sun, All that was beautiful, all that was cherished, Sweet things and dear things and all things—save one.

Late, when the year and the roses were lying Low with the ruins of Summer and bloom, Down in the dust fell a love that was dying, And the snow piled over it, and made it a tomb. Lo! now the roses are budded for blossom— Lo! now the Summer is risen again. Why dost thou bud not, O Love of my bosom? Why dost thou rise not, and thrill me as then?

Life without love is a year without Summer, Heart without love is a wood without song. Rise then, revive then, thou indolent comer: Why dost thou lie in the dark earth so long? Rise! ah, thou can’st not! the rose-tree that sheddest Its beautiful leaves, in the Springtime may bloom, But of cold things the coldest, of dead things the deadest, Love buried once, rises not from the tomb. Green things may grow on the hillside and heather, Birds seek the forest and build there and sing. All things revive in the beautiful weather, But unto a dead love there cometh no Spring.

MIDSUMMER

After the May time, and after the June time, Rare with blossoms and perfumes sweet, Cometh the round world’s royal noon time, The red midsummer of blazing heat. When the sun, like an eye that never closes, Bends on the earth its fervid gaze, And the winds are still, and the crimson roses Droop and wither and die in its rays.

Unto my heart has come that season, O my lady, my worshipped one, When over the stars of Pride and Reason Sails Love’s cloudless, noonday sun. Like a great red ball in my bosom burning With fires that nothing can quench or tame. It glows till my heart itself seems turning Into a liquid lake of flame.

The hopes half shy, and the sighs all tender, The dreams and fears of an earlier day, Under the noontide’s royal splendour, Droop like roses and wither away. From the hills of doubt no winds are blowing, From the isle of pain no breeze is sent. Only the sun in a white heat glowing Over an ocean of great content.

Sink, O my soul, in this golden glory, Die, O my heart, in thy rapture-swoon, For the Autumn must come with its mournful story, And Love’s midsummer will fade too soon.

A REMINISCENCE

I saw the wild honey-bee kissing a rose A wee one, that grows Down low on the bush, where her sisters above Cannot see all that’s done As the moments roll on. Nor hear all the whispers and murmurs of love.

They flaunt out their beautiful leaves in the sun, And they flirt, every one, With the wild bees who pass, and the gay butterflies. And that wee thing in pink— Why, they never once think That she’s won a lover right under their eyes.

It reminded me, Kate, of a time—you know when! You were so petite then, Your dresses were short, and your feet were so small. Your sisters, Maud-Belle And Madeline—well, They both set their caps for me, after that ball.

How the blue eyes and black eyes smiled up in my face! ’Twas a neck-and-neck race, Till that day when you opened the door in the hall, And looked up and looked down, With your sweet eyes of brown, And you seemed so tiny, and I felt so tall.

Your sisters had sent you to keep me, my dear, Till they should appear. Then you were dismissed like a child in disgrace. How meekly you went! But your brown eyes, they sent A thrill to my heart, and a flush to my face.

We always were meeting some way after that. You hung up my hat, And got it again, when I finished my call. Sixteen, and so sweet! Oh, those cute little feet! Shall I ever forget how they tripped down the hall?

Shall I ever forget the first kiss by the door, Or the vows murmured o’er, Or the rage and surprise of Maud-Belle? Well-a-day, How swiftly time flows, And who would suppose That a bee could have carried me so far away.

A GIRL’S FAITH

Across the miles that stretch between, Through days of gloom or glad sunlight, There shines a face I have not seen Which yet doth make my world more bright.

He may be near, he may be far, Or near or far I cannot see, But faithful as the morning star He yet shall rise and come to me.

What though fate leads us separate ways, The world is round, and time is fleet. A journey of a few brief days, And face to face we two shall meet.

Shall meet beneath God’s arching skies, While suns shall blaze, or stars shall gleam, And looking in each other’s eyes Shall hold the past but as a dream.

But round and perfect and complete, Life like a star shall climb the height, As we two press with willing feet Together toward the Infinite.

And still behind the space between, As back of dawns the sunbeams play, There shines the face I have not seen, Whose smile shall wake my world to-day.