Part 149

"Who is it knocking in the night, That fain would enter in?" "The ghost of Lost Delight am I, The sin you would not sin, Who comes to look in your two eyes And see what might have been."

"Oh, long ago and long ago I cast you forth," he said, "For that your eyes were all too blue, Your laughing mouth too red, And my torn soul was tangled in The tresses of your head."

"Now mind you with what bitter words You cast me forth from you?" "I bade you back to that fair Hell From whence your breath you drew, And with great blows I broke my heart Lest it might follow too.

"Yea, from the grasp of your white hands I freed my hands that day, And have I not climbed near to God As these His henchmen may?" "Ah, man, - ah, man! 'twas my two hands That led you all the way."

"I hid my eyes from your two eyes That they might see aright." "Yet think you 'twas a star that led Your feet from height to height? It was the flame of my two eyes That drew you through the night."

With trembling hands he threw the door, Then fell upon his knee: "O, Vision armed and cloaked in light, Why do you honor me?" "The Angel of your Strength am I Who was your sin," quoth she.

"For that you slew me long ago My hands have raised you high; For that mine eyes you closed, mine eyes Are lights to lead you by; And 'tis my touch shall swing the gates Of Heaven when you die!"

Theodosia Garrison [1874-

"LOVE CAME BACK AT FALL O' DEW"

Love came back at fall o' dew, Playing his old part; But I had a word or two, That would break his heart.

"He who comes at candlelight, That should come before, Must betake him to the night From a barred door."

This the word that made us part In the fall o' dew; This the word that brake his heart - Yet it brake mine, too!

Lizette Woodworth Reese [1856-1935]

I SHALL NOT CARE

When I am dead and over me bright April Shakes out her rain-drenched hair, Though you should lean above me broken-hearted, I shall not care.

I shall have peace, as leafy trees are peaceful When rain bends down the bough, And I shall be more silent and cold-hearted Than you are now.

Sara Teasdale [1884-1933]

OUTGROWN

Nay, you wrong her, my friend, she's not fickle; her love she has simply outgrown: One can read the whole matter, translating her heart by the light of one's own.

Can you bear me to talk with you frankly? There is much that my heart would say; And you know we were children together, have quarreled and "made up" in play.

And so, for the sake of old friendship, I venture to tell you the truth, - As plainly, perhaps, and as bluntly, as I might in our earlier youth.

Five summers ago, when you wooed her, you stood on the selfsame plane, Face to face, heart to heart, never dreaming your souls should be parted again.

She loved you at that time entirely, in the bloom, of her life's early May; And it is not her fault, I repeat it, that she does not love you to-day.

Nature never stands still, nor souls either: they ever go up or go down; And hers has been steadily soaring - but how has it been with your own?

She has struggled and yearned and aspired, grown purer and wiser each year: The stars are not farther above you in yon luminous atmosphere!

For she whom you crowned with fresh roses, down yonder, five summers ago, Has learned that the first of our duties to God and ourselves is to grow.

Her eyes they are sweeter and calmer: but their vision is clearer as well; Her voice has a tender cadence, but is pure as a silver bell.

Her face has the look worn by those who with God and his angels have talked: The white robes she wears are less white than the spirits with whom she has walked.