Part 120

In vain, in vain; we meet no more, Nor dream what fates befall; And long upon the stranger's shore My voice on thee may call, When years have clothed the line in moss That tells thy name and days, And withered, on thy simple cross, The wreaths of Pere-la-Chaise!

Oliver Wendell Holmes [1809-1894]

THE DARK MAN

Rose o' the World, she came to my bed And changed the dreams of my heart and head; For joy of mine she left grief of hers, And garlanded me with a crown of furze.

Rose o' the World, they go out and in, And watch me dream and my mother spin; And they pity the tears on my sleeping face While my soul's away in a fairy place.

Rose o' the World, they have words galore, And wide's the swing of my mother's door: And soft they speak of my darkened eyes - But what do they know, who are all so wise?

Rose o' the World, the pain you give Is worth all days that a man may live - Worth all shy prayers that the colleens say On the night that darkens the wedding-day.

Rose o' the World, what man would wed When he might dream of your face instead? Might go to the grave with the blessed pain Of hungering after your face again?

Rose o' the World, they may talk their fill, For dreams are good, and my life stands still While their lives' red ashes the gossips stir; But my fiddle knows - and I talk to her.

Nora Hopper [1871-1906]

EURYDICE

He came to call me back from death To the bright world above. I hear him yet with trembling breath Low calling, "O sweet love! Come back! The earth is just as fair; The flowers, the open skies are there; Come back to life and love!"

Oh! all my heart went out to him, And the sweet air above. With happy tears my eyes were dim; I called him, "O sweet love! I come, for thou art all to me. Go forth, and I will follow thee, Right back to life and love!

I followed through the cavern black; I saw the blue above. Some terror turned me to look back: I heard him wail, "O love! What hast thou done! What hast thou done!" And then I saw no more the sun, And lost were life and love.

Francis William Bourdillon [1852-1921]

A WOMAN'S THOUGHT

I am a woman - therefore I may not Call to him, cry to him, Fly to him, Bid him delay not!

Then when he comes to me, I must sit quiet: Still as a stone - All silent and cold. If my heart riot - Crush and defy it! Should I grow bold, Say one dear thing to him, All my life fling to him, Cling to him - What to atone Is enough for my sinning! This were the cost to me, This were my winning - That he were lost to me.

Not as a lover At last if he part from me, Tearing my heart from me, Hurt beyond cure, - Calm and demure Then must I hold me, In myself fold me, Lest he discover; Showing no sign to him By look of mine to him What he has been to me - How my heart turns to him, Follows him, yearns to him, Prays him to love me.

Pity me, lean to me, Thou God above me!

Richard Watson Gilder [1844-1900]

LAUS VENERIS A Picture By Burne-Jones

Pallid with too much longing, White with passion and prayer, Goddess of love and beauty, She sits in the picture there, -

Sits with her dark eyes seeking Something more subtle still Than the old delights of loving Her measureless days to fill.

She has loved and been loved so often In her long, immortal years, That she tires of the worn-out rapture, Sickens of hopes and fears.

No joys or sorrows move her, Done with her ancient pride; For her head she found too heavy The crown she has cast aside.

Clothed in her scarlet splendor, Bright with her glory of hair Sad that she is not mortal, - Eternally sad and fair,

Longing for joys she knows not, Athirst with a vain desire, There she sits in the picture, Daughter of foam and fire.