Part 2

She crowns him with her gratefulness, And says again that life is good; And should the gift of God be less In him than in her motherhood, His fame, though vague, will not be small, As upward through her dream he fares, Half clouded with a crimson fall Of roses thrown on marble stairs.

The Clinging Vine

"Be calm? And was I frantic? You'll have me laughing soon. I'm calm as this Atlantic, And quiet as the moon; I may have spoken faster Than once, in other days; For I've no more a master, And now--'Be calm,' he says.

"Fear not, fear no commotion,-- I'll be as rocks and sand; The moon and stars and ocean Will envy my command; No creature could be stiller In any kind of place Than I... No, I'll not kill her; Her death is in her face.

"Be happy while she has it, For she'll not have it long; A year, and then you'll pass it, Preparing a new song. And I'm a fool for prating Of what a year may bring, When more like her are waiting For more like you to sing.

"You mock me with denial, You mean to call me hard? You see no room for trial When all my doors are barred? You say, and you'd say dying, That I dream what I know; And sighing, and denying, You'd hold my hand and go.

"You scowl--and I don't wonder; I spoke too fast again; But you'll forgive one blunder, For you are like most men: You are,--or so you've told me, So many mortal times, That heaven ought not to hold me Accountable for crimes.

"Be calm? Was I unpleasant? Then I'll be more discreet, And grant you, for the present, The balm of my defeat: What she, with all her striving, Could not have brought about, You've done. Your own contriving Has put the last light out.

"If she were the whole story, If worse were not behind, I'd creep with you to glory, Believing I was blind; I'd creep, and go on seeming To be what I despise. You laugh, and say I'm dreaming, And all your laughs are lies.

"Are women mad? A few are, And if it's true you say-- If most men are as you are-- We'll all be mad some day. Be calm--and let me finish; There's more for you to know. I'll talk while you diminish, And listen while you grow.

"There was a man who married Because he couldn't see; And all his days he carried The mark of his degree. But you--you came clear-sighted, And found truth in my eyes; And all my wrongs you've righted With lies, and lies, and lies.

"You've killed the last assurance That once would have me strive To rouse an old endurance That is no more alive. It makes two people chilly To say what we have said, But you--you'll not be silly And wrangle for the dead.

"You don't? You never wrangle? Why scold then,--or complain? More words will only mangle What you've already slain. Your pride you can't surrender? My name--for that you fear? Since when were men so tender, And honor so severe?

"No more--I'll never bear it. I'm going. I'm like ice. My burden? You would share it? Forbid the sacrifice! Forget so quaint a notion, And let no more be told; For moon and stars and ocean And you and I are cold."

Cassandra

I heard one who said: "Verily, What word have I for children here? Your Dollar is your only Word, The wrath of it your only fear.

"You build it altars tall enough To make you see, but you are blind; You cannot leave it long enough To look before you or behind.

"When Reason beckons you to pause, You laugh and say that you know best; But what it is you know, you keep As dark as ingots in a chest.

"You laugh and answer, 'We are young; O leave us now, and let us grow.'-- Not asking how much more of this Will Time endure or Fate bestow.

"Because a few complacent years Have made your peril of your pride, Think you that you are to go on Forever pampered and untried?

"What lost eclipse of history, What bivouac of the marching stars, Has given the sign for you to see Millenniums and last great wars?

"What unrecorded overthrow Of all the world has ever known, Or ever been, has made itself So plain to you, and you alone?

"Your Dollar, Dove and Eagle make A Trinity that even you Rate higher than you rate yourselves; It pays, it flatters, and it's new.

"And though your very flesh and blood Be what your Eagle eats and drinks, You'll praise him for the best of birds, Not knowing what the Eagle thinks.

"The power is yours, but not the sight; You see not upon what you tread; You have the ages for your guide, But not the wisdom to be led.

"Think you to tread forever down The merciless old verities? And are you never to have eyes To see the world for what it is?

"Are you to pay for what you have With all you are?"--No other word We caught, but with a laughing crowd Moved on. None heeded, and few heard.

John Gorham