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+The Project Gutenberg Etext of Maurine etc., by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
+#5 in our series by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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+Title: Maurine and Other Poems
+
+Author: Ella Wheeler Wilcox
+
+Release Date: January, 2003  [Etext #3665]
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+[The actual date this file first posted = 07/09/01]
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+Language: English
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+The Project Gutenberg Etext of Maurine etc., by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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+from the 1910 Gay and Hancock edition.
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+
+
+MAURINE AND OTHER POEMS
+
+by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
+
+
+
+
+Contents:
+
+   Maurine
+   All Roads that Lead to God are Good
+   Dust-sealed
+   "Advice"
+   Over the Banisters
+   The Past
+   Secrets
+   Applause
+   The Story
+   Lean Down
+   Life
+   The Christian's New Year Prayer
+   In the Night
+   God's Measure
+   A March Snow
+   Philosophy
+   "Carlos"
+   The Two Glasses
+   La Mort d'Amour
+   Love's Sleep
+   True Culture
+   The Voluptuary
+   The Coquette
+   If
+   Love's Burial
+   Lippo
+   "Love is Enough"
+   Life is Love
+
+
+
+MAURINE
+
+
+
+PART I
+
+
+I sat and sewed, and sang some tender tune,
+Oh, beauteous was that morn in early June!
+Mellow with sunlight, and with blossoms fair:
+The climbing rose-tree grew about me there,
+And checked with shade the sunny portico
+Where, morns like this, I came to read, or sew.
+
+I heard the gate click, and a firm, quick tread
+Upon the walk.  No need to turn my head;
+I would mistake, and doubt my own voice sounding,
+Before his step upon the gravel bounding.
+In an unstudied attitude of grace,
+He stretched his comely form; and from his face
+He tossed the dark, damp curls; and at my knees,
+With his broad hat he fanned the lazy breeze,
+And turned his head, and lifted his large eyes,
+Of that strange hue we see in ocean dyes,
+And call it blue sometimes and sometimes green,
+And save in poet eyes, not elsewhere seen.
+"Lest I should meet with my fair lady's scorning,
+For calling quite so early in the morning,
+I've brought a passport that can never fail,"
+He said, and, laughing, laid the morning mail
+Upon my lap.  "I'm welcome? so I thought!
+I'll figure by the letters that I brought
+How glad you are to see me.  Only one?
+And that one from a lady?  I'm undone!
+That, lightly skimmed, you'll think me SUCH a bore,
+And wonder why I did not bring you four.
+It's ever thus:  a woman cannot get
+So many letters that she will not fret
+O'er one that did not come."
+         "I'll prove you wrong,"
+I answered gaily, "here upon the spot!
+This little letter, precious if not long,
+Is just the one, of all you might have brought,
+To please me.  You have heard me speak, I'm sure,
+Of Helen Trevor:  she writes here to say
+She's coming out to see me; and will stay
+Till Autumn, maybe.  She is, like her note,
+Petite and dainty, tender, loving, pure.
+You'd know her by a letter that she wrote,
+For a sweet tinted thing.  'Tis always so:-
+Letters all blots, though finely written, show
+A slovenly person.  Letters stiff and white
+Bespeak a nature honest, plain, upright.
+And tissuey, tinted, perfumed notes, like this,
+Tell of a creature formed to pet and kiss."
+My listener heard me with a slow, odd smile;
+Stretched in abandon at my feet, the while,
+He fanned me idly with his broad-brimmed hat.
+"Then all young ladies must be formed for that!"
+He laughed, and said.
+         "Their letters read, and look,
+As like as twenty copies of one book.
+They're written in a dainty, spider scrawl,
+To 'darling, precious Kate,' or 'Fan,' or 'Moll.'
+The 'dearest, sweetest' friend they ever had.
+They say they 'want to see you, oh, so bad!'
+Vow they'll 'forget you, never, NEVER, oh!'
+And then they tell about a splendid beau -
+A lovely hat--a charming dress, and send
+A little scrap of this to every friend.
+And then to close, for lack of something better,
+They beg you'll 'read and burn this horrid letter.'"
+
+He watched me, smiling.  He was prone to vex
+And hector me with flings upon my sex.
+He liked, he said, to have me flash and frown,
+So he could tease me, and then laugh me down.
+My storms of wrath amused him very much:
+He liked to see me go off at a touch;
+Anger became me--made my colour rise,
+And gave an added lustre to my eyes.
+So he would talk--and so he watched me now,
+To see the hot flush mantle cheek and brow.
+Instead, I answered coolly, with a smile,
+Felling a seam with utmost care, meanwhile.
+"The caustic tongue of Vivian Dangerfield
+Is barbed as ever, for my sex, this morn.
+Still unconvinced, no smallest point I yield.
+Woman I love, and trust, despite your scorn.
+There is some truth in what you say?  Well, yes!
+Your statements usually hold more or less.
+Some women write weak letters--(some men do;)
+Some make professions, knowing them untrue.
+And woman's friendship, in the time of need,
+I own, too often proves a broken reed.
+But I believe, and ever will contend,
+Woman can be a sister woman's friend,
+Giving from out her large heart's bounteous store
+A living love--claiming to do no more
+Than, through and by that love, she knows she can:
+And living by her professions, LIKE A MAN.
+And such a tie, true friendship's silken tether,
+Binds Helen Trevor's heart and mine together.
+I love her for her beauty, meekness, grace;
+For her white lily soul and angel face.
+She loves me, for my greater strength, maybe;
+Loves--and would give her heart's best blood for me.
+And I, to save her from a pain, or cross,
+Would suffer any sacrifice or loss.
+Such can be woman's friendship for another.
+Could man give more, or ask more from a brother?"
+
+I paused:  and Vivian leaned his massive head
+Against the pillar of the portico,
+Smiled his slow, sceptic smile, then laughed, and said:
+"Nay, surely not--if what you say be so.
+You've made a statement, but no proof's at hand.
+Wait--do not flash your eyes so!  Understand
+I think you quite sincere in what you say:
+You love your friend, and she loves you, to-day;
+But friendship is not friendship at the best
+Till circumstances put it to the test.
+Man's, less demonstrative, stands strain and tear,
+While woman's, half profession, fails to wear.
+Two women love each other passing well -
+Say Helen Trevor and Maurine La Pelle,
+Just for example.
+         Let them daily meet
+At ball and concert, in the church and street,
+They kiss and coo, they visit, chat, caress;
+Their love increases, rather than grows less;
+And all goes well, till 'Helen dear' discovers
+That 'Maurine darling' wins too many lovers.
+
+And then her 'precious friend,' her 'pet,' her 'sweet,'
+Becomes a 'minx,' a 'creature all deceit.'
+Let Helen smile too oft on Maurine's beaux,
+Or wear more stylish or becoming clothes,
+Or sport a hat that has a longer feather -
+And lo! the strain has broken 'friendship's tether.'
+Maurine's sweet smile becomes a frown or pout;
+'She's just begun to find that Helen out.'
+The breach grows wider--anger fills each heart;
+They drift asunder, whom 'but death could part.'
+You shake your head?  Oh, well, we'll never know!
+It is not likely Fate will test you so.
+You'll live, and love; and, meeting twice a year,
+While life shall last, you'll hold each other dear.
+I pray it may be so; it were not best
+To shake your faith in woman by the test.
+Keep your belief, and nurse it while you can.
+I've faith in woman's friendship too--for man!
+They're true as steel, as mothers, friends, and wives:
+And that's enough to bless us all our lives.
+That man's a selfish fellow, and a bore,
+Who is unsatisfied and asks for more."
+"But there is need of more!" I here broke in.
+"I hold that woman guilty of a sin,
+Who would not cling to, and defend another,
+As nobly as she would stand by a brother.
+Who would not suffer for a sister's sake,
+And, were there need to prove her friendship, make
+'Most any sacrifice, nor count the cost.
+Who would not do this for a friend is lost
+To every nobler principle."
+         "Shame, shame!"
+Cried Vivian, laughing, "for you now defame
+The whole sweet sex; since there's not one would do
+The thing you name, nor would I want her to.
+I love the sex.  My mother was a woman -
+I hope my wife will be, and wholly human.
+And if she wants to make some sacrifice,
+I'll think her far more sensible and wise
+To let her husband reap the benefit,
+Instead of some old maid or senseless chit.
+Selfish?  Of course!  I hold all love is so:
+And I shall love my wife right well, I know.
+Now there's a point regarding selfish love,
+You thirst to argue with me, and disprove.
+But since these cosy hours will soon be gone,
+And all our meetings broken in upon,
+No more of these rare moments must be spent
+In vain discussions, or in argument.
+I wish Miss Trevor was in--Jericho!
+(You see the selfishness begins to show.)
+She wants to see you?--So do I:  but she
+Will gain her wish, by taking you from me.
+'Come all the same?' that means I'll be allowed
+To realize that 'three can make a crowd.'
+I do not like to feel myself de trop.
+With two girl cronies would I not be so?
+My ring would interrupt some private chat.
+You'd ask me in and take my cane and hat,
+And speak about the lovely summer day,
+And think--'The lout!  I wish he'd kept away.'
+Miss Trevor'd smile, but just to hide a pout
+And count the moments till I was shown out.
+And, while I twirled my thumbs, I would sit wishing
+That I had gone off hunting birds, or fishing,
+No, thanks, Maurine!  The iron hand of Fate,
+(Or otherwise Miss Trevor's dainty fingers,)
+Will bar my entrance into Eden's gate;
+And I shall be like some poor soul that lingers
+At heaven's portal, paying the price of sin,
+Yet hoping to be pardoned and let in."
+
+He looked so melancholy sitting there,
+I laughed outright.  "How well you act a part;
+You look the very picture of despair!
+You've missed your calling, sir! suppose you start
+Upon a starring tour, and carve your name
+With Booth's and Barrett's on the heights of Fame
+But now, tabooing nonsense, I shall send
+For you to help me entertain my friend,
+Unless you come without it.  'Cronies?'  True,
+Wanting our 'private chats' as cronies do.
+And we'll take those, while you are reading Greek,
+Or writing 'Lines to Dora's brow' or 'cheek.'
+But when you have an hour or two of leisure,
+Call as you now do, and afford like pleasure.
+For never yet did heaven's sun shine on,
+Or stars discover, that phenomenon,
+In any country, or in any clime:
+Two maids so bound, by ties of mind and heart,
+They did not feel the heavy weight of time
+In weeks of scenes wherein no man took part.
+God made the sexes to associate:
+Nor law of man, nor stern decree of Fate,
+Can ever undo what His hand has done,
+And, quite alone, make happy either one.
+My Helen is an only child:- a pet
+Of loving parents:  and she never yet
+Has been denied one boon for which she pleaded.
+A fragile thing, her lightest wish was heeded.
+Would she pluck roses?  They must first be shorn,
+By careful hands, of every hateful thorn,
+And loving eyes must scan the pathway where
+Her feet may tread, to see no stones are there.
+She'll grow dull here, in this secluded nook,
+Unless you aid me in the pleasant task
+Of entertaining.  Drop in with your book -
+Read, talk, sing for her sometimes.  What I ask,
+Do once, to please me:  then there'll be no need
+For me to state the case again, or plead.
+There's nothing like a woman's grace and beauty
+To waken mankind to a sense of duty."
+
+"I bow before the mandate of my queen:
+Your slightest wish is law, Ma Belle Maurine,"
+He answered, smiling, "I'm at your command;
+Point but one lily finger, or your wand,
+And you will find a willing slave obeying.
+There goes my dinner bell!  I hear it saying
+I've spent two hours here, lying at your feet,
+Not profitable, maybe--surely sweet.
+All time is money; now were I to measure
+The time I spend here by its solid pleasure,
+And that were coined in dollars, then I've laid
+Each day a fortune at your feet, fair maid.
+There goes that bell again!  I'll say good-bye,
+Or clouds will shadow my domestic sky.
+I'll come again, as you would have me do,
+And see your friend, while she is seeing you.
+That's like by proxy being at a feast;
+Unsatisfactory, to say the least."
+
+He drew his fine shape up, and trod the land
+With kingly grace.  Passing the gate, his hand
+He lightly placed the garden wall upon,
+Leaped over like a leopard, and was gone.
+
+And, going, took the brightness from the place,
+Yet left the June day with a sweeter grace,
+And my young soul, so steeped in happy dreams,
+Heaven itself seemed shown to me in gleams.
+There is a time with lovers, when the heart
+First slowly rouses from its dreamless sleep,
+To all the tumult of a passion life,
+Ere yet have wakened jealousy and strife.
+Just as a young, untutored child will start
+Out of a long hour's slumber, sound and deep,
+And lie and smile with rosy lips and cheeks,
+In a sweet, restful trance, before it speaks.
+A time when yet no word the spell has broken,
+Save what the heart unto the soul has spoken,
+In quickened throbs, and sighs but half suppressed
+A time when that sweet truth, all unconfessed,
+Gives added fragrance to the summer flowers,
+A golden glory to the passing hours,
+A hopeful beauty to the plainest face,
+And lends to life a new and tender grace.
+When the full heart has climbed the heights of bliss,
+And, smiling, looks back o'er the golden past,
+I think it finds no sweeter hour than this
+In all love-life.  For, later, when the last
+Translucent drop o'erflows the cup of joy,
+And love, more mighty than the heart's control,
+Surges in words of passion from the soul,
+And vows are asked and given, shadows rise
+Like mists before the sun in noonday skies,
+Vague fears, that prove the brimming cup's alloy;
+A dread of change--the crowning moment's curse,
+Since what is perfect, change but renders worse:
+A vain desire to cripple Time, who goes
+Bearing our joys away, and bringing woes.
+And later, doubts and jealousies awaken,
+And plighted hearts are tempest-tossed and shaken.
+Doubt sends a test, that goes a step too far,
+A wound is made, that, healing, leaves a scar,
+Or one heart, full with love's sweet satisfaction,
+Thinks truth once spoken always understood,
+While one is pining for the tender action
+And whispered word by which, of old, 'twas wooed.
+
+But this blest hour, in love's glad, golden day,
+Is like the dawning, ere the radiant ray
+Of glowing Sol has burst upon the eye,
+But yet is heralded in earth and sky,
+Warm with its fervour, mellow with its light,
+While Care still slumbers in the arms of night.
+But Hope, awake, hears happy birdlings sing,
+And thinks of all a summer day may bring.
+
+In this sweet calm, my young heart lay at rest,
+Filled with a blissful sense of peace; nor guessed
+That sullen clouds were gathering in the skies
+To hide the glorious sun, ere it should rise.
+
+PART II
+
+To little birds that never tire of humming
+About the garden in the summer weather,
+Aunt Ruth compared us, after Helen's coming,
+As we two roamed, or sat and talked together.
+Twelve months apart, we had so much to say
+Of school days gone--and time since passed away;
+Of that old friend, and this; of what we'd done;
+Of how our separate paths in life had run;
+Of what we would do, in the coming years;
+Of plans and castles, hopes and dreams and fears.
+All these, and more, as soon as we found speech,
+We touched upon, and skimmed from this to that.
+But at the first each only gazed on each,
+And, dumb with joy, that did not need a voice
+Like lesser joys, to say, "Lo!  I rejoice,"
+With smiling eyes and clasping hands we sat
+Wrapped in that peace, felt but with those dear,
+Contented just to know each other near.
+But when this silent eloquence gave place
+To words, 'twas like the rising of a flood
+Above a dam.  We sat there, face to face,
+And let our talk glide on where'er it would,
+Speech never halting in its speed or zest,
+Save when our rippling laughter let it rest;
+Just as a stream will sometimes pause and play
+About a bubbling spring, then dash away.
+No wonder, then, the third day's sun was nigh
+Up to the zenith when my friend and I
+Opened our eyes from slumber long and deep:
+Nature demanding recompense for hours
+Spent in the portico, among the flowers,
+Halves of two nights we should have spent in sleep.
+
+So this third day, we breakfasted at one:
+Then walked about the garden in the sun,
+Hearing the thrushes and the robins sing,
+And looking to see what buds were opening.
+
+The clock chimed three, and we yet strayed at will
+About the yard in morning dishabille,
+When Aunt Ruth came, with apron o'er her head,
+Holding a letter in her hand, and said,
+"Here is a note, from Vivian I opine;
+At least his servant brought it.  And now, girls,
+You may think this is no concern of mine,
+But in my day young ladies did not go
+Till almost bed-time roaming to and fro
+In morning wrappers, and with tangled curls,
+The very pictures of forlorn distress.
+'Tis three o'clock, and time for you to dress.
+Come! read your note and hurry in, Maurine,
+And make yourself fit object to be seen."
+
+Helen was bending o'er an almond bush,
+And ere she looked up I had read the note,
+And calmed my heart, that, bounding, sent a flush
+To brow and cheek, at sight of aught HE wrote.
+"Ma Belle Maurine:" (so Vivian's billet ran,)
+"Is it not time I saw your cherished guest?
+'Pity the sorrows of a poor young man,'
+Banished from all that makes existence blest.
+I'm dying to see--your friend; and I will come
+And pay respects, hoping you'll be at home
+To-night at eight.  Expectantly, V. D."
+
+Inside my belt I slipped the billet, saying,
+"Helen, go make yourself most fair to see:
+Quick! hurry now! no time for more delaying!
+In just five hours a caller will be here,
+And you must look your prettiest, my dear!
+Begin your toilet right away.  I know
+How long it takes you to arrange each bow -
+To twist each curl, and loop your skirts aright.
+And you must prove you are au fait to-night,
+And make a perfect toilet:  for our caller
+Is man, and critic, poet, artist, scholar,
+And views with eyes of all."
+         "Oh, oh!  Maurine,"
+Cried Helen with a well-feigned look of fear,
+"You've frightened me so I shall not appear:
+I'll hide away, refusing to be seen
+By such an ogre.  Woe is me! bereft
+Of all my friends, my peaceful home I've left,
+And strayed away into the dreadful wood
+To meet the fate of poor Red Riding Hood.
+No, Maurine, no! you've given me such a fright,
+I'll not go near your ugly wolf to-night."
+
+Meantime we'd left the garden; and I stood
+In Helen's room, where she had thrown herself
+Upon a couch, and lay, a winsome elf,
+Pouting and smiling, cheek upon her arm,
+Not in the least a portrait of alarm.
+"Now, sweet!" I coaxed, and knelt by her, "be good!
+Go curl your hair; and please your own Maurine,
+By putting on that lovely grenadine.
+Not wolf, nor ogre, neither Caliban,
+Nor Mephistopheles, you'll meet to-night,
+But what the ladies call 'a nice young man'!
+Yet one worth knowing--strong with health and might
+Of perfect manhood; gifted, noble, wise;
+Moving among his kind with loving eyes,
+And helpful hand; progressive, brave, refined,
+After the image of his Maker's mind."
+
+"Now, now, Maurine!" cried Helen, "I believe
+It is your lover coming here this eve.
+Why have you never written of him, pray?
+Is the day set?--and when?  Say, Maurine, say!"
+
+Had I betrayed by some too fervent word
+The secret love that all my being stirred?
+My lover?  Ay!  My heart proclaimed him so;
+But first HIS lips must win the sweet confession,
+Ere even Helen be allowed to know.
+I must straightway erase the slight impression
+Made by the words just uttered.
+         "Foolish child!"
+I gaily cried, "your fancy's straying wild.
+Just let a girl of eighteen hear the name
+Of maid and youth uttered about one time,
+And off her fancy goes, at break-neck pace,
+Defying circumstances, reason, space -
+And straightway builds romances so sublime
+They put all Shakespeare's dramas to the shame.
+This Vivian Dangerfield is neighbour, friend,
+And kind companion; bringing books and flowers.
+And, by his thoughtful actions without end,
+Helping me pass some otherwise long hours;
+But he has never breathed a word of love.
+If you still doubt me, listen while I prove
+My statement by the letter that he wrote.
+'Dying to meet--my friend!' (she could not see
+The dash between that meant so much to me).
+'Will come this eve, at eight, and hopes we may
+Be in to greet him.'  Now I think you'll say
+'Tis not much like a lover's tender note."
+
+We laugh, we jest, not meaning what we say;
+We hide our thoughts, by light words lightly spoken,
+And pass on heedless, till we find one day
+They've bruised our hearts, or left some other broken.
+
+I sought my room, and trilling some blithe air,
+Opened my wardrobe, wondering what to wear.
+Momentous question! femininely human!
+More than all others, vexing mind of woman,
+Since that sad day, when in her discontent,
+To search for leaves, our fair first mother went.
+All undecided what I should put on,
+At length I made selection of a lawn -
+White, with a tiny pink vine overrun:-
+My simplest robe, but Vivian's favourite one.
+And placing a single flowret in my hair,
+I crossed the hall to Helen's chamber, where
+I found her with her fair locks all let down,
+Brushing the kinks out, with a pretty frown.
+'Twas like a picture, or a pleasing play,
+To watch her make her toilet.  She would stand,
+And turn her head first this, and then that way,
+Trying effect of ribbon, bow or band.
+Then she would pick up something else, and curve
+Her lovely neck, with cunning, bird-like grace,
+And watch the mirror while she put it on,
+With such a sweetly grave and thoughtful face;
+And then to view it all would sway and swerve
+Her lithe young body, like a graceful swan.
+
+Helen was over medium height, and slender
+Even to frailty.  Her great, wistful eyes
+Were like the deep blue of autumnal skies;
+And through them looked her soul, large, loving, tender.
+Her long, light hair was lustreless, except
+Upon the ends, where burnished sunbeams slept,
+And on the earlocks; and she looped the curls
+Back with a shell comb, studded thick with pearls,
+Costly yet simple.  Her pale loveliness,
+That night, was heightened by her rich, black dress,
+That trailed behind her, leaving half in sight
+Her taper arms, and shoulders marble white.
+
+I was not tall as Helen, and my face
+Was shaped and coloured like my grandsire's race;
+For through his veins my own received the warm,
+Red blood of Southern France, which curved my form,
+And glowed upon my cheek in crimson dyes,
+And bronzed my hair, and darkled in my eyes.
+And as the morning trails the skirts of night,
+And dusky night puts on the garb of morn,
+And walk together when the day is born,
+So we two glided down the hall and stair,
+Arm clasping arm, into the parlour, where
+Sat Vivian, bathed in sunset's gorgeous light.
+He rose to greet us.  Oh! his form was grand;
+And he possessed that power, strange, occult,
+Called magnetism, lacking better word,
+Which moves the world, achieving great result
+Where genius fails completely.  Touch his hand,
+It thrilled through all your being--meet his eye,
+And you were moved, yet knew not how, or why.
+Let him but rise, you felt the air was stirred
+By an electric current.
+
+         This strange force
+Is mightier than genius.  Rightly used,
+It leads to grand achievements; all things yield
+Before its mystic presence, and its field
+Is broad as earth and heaven.  But abused,
+It sweeps like a poison simoon on its course,
+Bearing miasma in its scorching breath,
+And leaving all it touches struck with death.
+
+Far-reaching science shall yet tear away
+The mystic garb that hides it from the day,
+And drag it forth and bind it with its laws,
+And make it serve the purposes of men,
+Guided by common-sense and reason.  Then
+We'll hear no more of seance, table-rapping,
+And all that trash, o'er which the world is gaping,
+Lost in effect, while science seeks the cause.
+
+Vivian was not conscious of his power:
+Or, if he was, knew not its full extent.
+He knew his glance would make a wild beast cower,
+And yet he knew not that his large eyes sent
+Into the heart of woman the same thrill
+That made the lion servant of his will.
+And even strong men felt it.
+
+         He arose,
+Reached forth his hand, and in it clasped my own,
+While I held Helen's; and he spoke some word
+Of pleasant greeting in his low, round tone,
+Unlike all other voices I have heard.
+Just as the white cloud, at the sunrise, glows
+With roseate colours, so the pallid hue
+Of Helen's cheek, like tinted sea-shells grew.
+Through mine, his hand caused hers to tremble; such
+Was the all-mast'ring magic of his touch.
+Then we sat down, and talked about the weather,
+The neighbourhood--some author's last new book.
+But, when I could, I left the two together
+To make acquaintance, saying I must look
+After the chickens--my especial care;
+And ran away and left them, laughing, there.
+
+Knee-deep, through clover, to the poplar grove,
+I waded, where my pets were wont to rove:
+And there I found the foolish mother hen
+Brooding her chickens underneath a tree,
+An easy prey for foxes.  "Chick-a-dee,"
+Quoth I, while reaching for the downy things
+That, chirping, peeped from out the mother-wings,
+"How very human is your folly!  When
+There waits a haven, pleasant, bright, and warm,
+And one to lead you thither from the storm
+And lurking dangers, yet you turn away,
+And, thinking to be your own protector, stray
+Into the open jaws of death:  for, see!
+An owl is sitting in this very tree
+You thought safe shelter.  Go now to your pen."
+And, followed by the clucking, clamorous hen,
+So like the human mother here again,
+Moaning because a strong, protecting arm
+Would shield her little ones from cold and harm,
+I carried back my garden hat brimful
+Of chirping chickens, like white balls of wool
+And snugly housed them.
+
+         And just then I heard
+A sound like gentle winds among the trees,
+Or pleasant waters in the summer, stirred
+And set in motion by a passing breeze.
+'Twas Helen singing:  and, as I drew near,
+Another voice, a tenor full and clear,
+Mingled with hers, as murmuring streams unite,
+And flow on stronger in their wedded might.
+
+It was a way of Helen's, not to sing
+The songs that other people sang.  She took
+Sometimes an extract from an ancient book;
+Again some floating, fragmentary thing.
+And such she fitted to old melodies,
+Or else composed the music.  One of these
+She sang that night; and Vivian caught the strain,
+And joined her in the chorus, or refrain,
+
+SONG.
+
+Oh thou, mine other, stronger part!
+   Whom yet I cannot hear, or see,
+Come thou, and take this loving heart,
+   That longs to yield its all to thee,
+   I call mine own--oh, come to me!
+   Love, answer back, I come to thee,
+            I come to thee.
+
+This hungry heart, so warm, so large,
+   Is far too great a care for me.
+I have grown weary of the charge
+   I keep so sacredly for thee.
+   Come thou, and take my heart from me.
+   Love, answer back, I come to thee,
+            I come to thee.
+
+I am a-weary, waiting here
+   For one who tarries long from me.
+Oh! art thou far, or art thou near?
+   And must I still be sad for thee?
+   Or wilt thou straightway come to me?
+   Love, answer, I am near to thee,
+            I come to thee.
+
+
+The melody, so full of plaintive chords,
+Sobbed into silence--echoing down the strings
+Like voice of one who walks from us, and sings.
+Vivian had leaned upon the instrument
+The while they sang.  But, as he spoke those words,
+"Love, I am near to thee, I come to thee,"
+He turned his grand head slowly round, and bent
+His lustrous, soulful, speaking gaze on me.
+And my young heart, eager to own its king,
+Sent to my eyes a great, glad, trustful light
+Of love and faith, and hung upon my cheek
+Hope's rose-hued flag.  There was no need to speak
+I crossed the room, and knelt by Helen.  "Sing
+That song you sang a fragment of one night
+Out on the porch, beginning, 'Praise me not,'"
+I whispered:  and her sweet and plaintive tone
+Rose, low and tender, as if she had caught
+From some sad passing breeze, and made her own,
+The echo of the wind-harp's sighing strain,
+Or the soft music of the falling rain.
+
+
+SONG.
+
+O praise me not with your lips, dear one!
+   Though your tender words I prize.
+But dearer by far is the soulful gaze
+   Of your eyes, your beautiful eyes,
+         Your tender, loving eyes.
+
+O chide me not with your lips, dear one!
+   Though I cause your bosom sighs.
+You can make repentance deeper far
+   By your sad, reproving eyes,
+         Your sorrowful, troubled eyes.
+
+Words, at the best, are but hollow sounds;
+   Above, in the beaming skies,
+The constant stars say never a word,
+   But only smile with their eyes -
+         Smile on with their lustrous eyes.
+
+Then breathe no vow with your lips, dear one;
+   On the winged wind speech flies.
+But I read the truth of your noble heart
+   In your soulful, speaking eyes -
+         In your deep and beautiful eyes.
+
+
+The twilight darkened, round us, in the room,
+While Helen sang; and, in the gathering gloom,
+Vivian reached out, and took my hand in his,
+And held it so; while Helen made the air
+Languid with music.  Then a step drew near,
+And voice of Aunt Ruth broke the spell:
+            "Dear! dear!
+Why, Maurie, Helen, children! how is this?
+I hear you, but you have no light in there.
+Your room is dark as Egypt.  What a way
+For folks to visit!  Maurie, go, I pray,
+And order lamps."
+         And so there came a light,
+And all the sweet dreams hovering around
+The twilight shadows flitted in affright:
+And e'en the music had a harsher sound.
+In pleasant converse passed an hour away:
+And Vivian planned a picnic for next day -
+A drive the next, and rambles without end,
+That he might help me entertain my friend.
+And then he rose, bowed low, and passed from sight,
+Like some great star that drops out from the night;
+And Helen watched him through the shadows go,
+And turned and said, her voice subdued and low,
+"How tall he is! in all my life, Maurine,
+A grander man I never yet have seen."
+
+
+PART III
+
+
+One golden twelfth-part of a checkered year;
+One summer month, of sunlight, moonlight, mirth,
+With not a hint of shadows lurking near,
+Or storm-clouds brewing.
+
+            'Twas a royal day:
+Voluptuous July held her lover, Earth,
+With her warm arms, upon her glowing breast,
+And twined herself about him, as he lay
+Smiling and panting in his dream-stirred rest.
+She bound him with her limbs of perfect grace,
+And hid him with her trailing robe of green,
+And wound him in her long hair's shimmering sheen,
+And rained her ardent kisses on his face.
+Through the glad glory of the summer land
+Helen and I went wandering, hand in hand.
+In winding paths, hard by the ripe wheat-field,
+White with the promise of a bounteous yield,
+Across the late shorn meadow--down the hill,
+Red with the tiger-lily blossoms, till
+We stood upon the borders of the lake,
+That like a pretty, placid infant, slept
+Low at its base:  and little ripples crept
+Along its surface, just as dimples chase
+Each other o'er an infant's sleeping face.
+Helen in idle hours had learned to make
+A thousand pretty, feminine knick-knacks:
+For brackets, ottomans, and toilet stands -
+Labour just suited to her dainty hands.
+That morning she had been at work in wax,
+Moulding a wreath of flowers for my room, -
+Taking her patterns from the living blows,
+In all their dewy beauty and sweet bloom,
+Fresh from my garden.  Fuchsia, tulip, rose,
+And trailing ivy, grew beneath her touch,
+Resembling the living plants as much
+As life is copied in the form of death:
+These lacking but the perfume, and that, breath.
+
+And now the wreath was all completed, save
+The mermaid blossom of all flowerdom,
+A water-lily, dripping from the wave.
+And 'twas in search of it that we had come
+Down to the lake, and wandered on the beach,
+To see if any lilies grew in reach.
+Some broken stalks, where flowers late had been;
+Some buds, with all their beauties folded in,
+We found, but not the treasure that we sought.
+And then we turned our footsteps to the spot
+Where, all impatient of its chain, my boat,
+The Swan, rocked, asking to be set afloat.
+It was a dainty row-boat--strong, yet light;
+Each side a swan was painted snowy white:
+A present from my uncle, just before
+He sailed, with Death, to that mysterious strand,
+Where freighted ships go sailing evermore,
+But none return to tell us of the land.
+I freed the Swan, and slowly rowed about,
+Wherever sea-weeds, grass, or green leaves lifted
+Their tips above the water.  So we drifted,
+While Helen, opposite, leaned idly out
+And watched for lilies in the waves below,
+And softly crooned some sweet and dreamy air,
+That soothed me like a mother's lullabies.
+I dropped the oars, and closed my sun-kissed eyes,
+And let the boat go drifting here and there.
+Oh, happy day! the last of that brief time
+Of thoughtless youth, when all the world seems bright,
+Ere that disguised angel men call Woe
+Leads the sad heart through valleys dark as night,
+Up to the heights exalted and sublime.
+On each blest, happy moment, I am fain
+To linger long, ere I pass on to pain
+And sorrow that succeeded.
+
+         From day-dreams,
+As golden as the summer noontide's beams,
+I was awakened by a voice that cried:
+"Strange ship, ahoy!  Fair frigate, whither bound?"
+And, starting up, I cast my gaze around,
+And saw a sail-boat o'er the water glide
+Close to the Swan, like some live thing of grace;
+And from it looked the glowing, handsome face
+Of Vivian.
+
+      "Beauteous sirens of the sea,
+Come sail across the raging main with me!"
+He laughed; and leaning, drew our drifting boat
+Beside his own.  "There, now! step in!" he said;
+"I'll land you anywhere you want to go -
+My boat is safer far than yours, I know:
+And much more pleasant with its sails all spread.
+The Swan?  We'll take the oars, and let it float
+Ashore at leisure.  You, Maurine, sit there -
+Miss Helen here.  Ye gods and little fishes!
+I've reached the height of pleasure, and my wishes.
+Adieu despondency! farewell to care!"
+
+'Twas done so quickly:  that was Vivian's way.
+He did not wait for either yea or nay.
+He gave commands, and left you with no choice
+But just to do the bidding of his voice.
+His rare, kind smile, low tones, and manly face
+Lent to his quick imperiousness a grace
+And winning charm, completely stripping it
+Of what might otherwise have seemed unfit.
+Leaving no trace of tyranny, but just
+That nameless force that seemed to say, "You must."
+Suiting its pretty title of the Dawn,
+(So named, he said, that it might rhyme with Swan),
+Vivian's sail-boat was carpeted with blue,
+While all its sails were of a pale rose hue.
+The daintiest craft that flirted with the breeze;
+A poet's fancy in an hour of ease.
+
+Whatever Vivian had was of the best.
+His room was like some Sultan's in the East.
+His board was always spread as for a feast,
+Whereat, each meal, he was both host and guest.
+He would go hungry sooner than he'd dine
+At his own table if 'twere illy set.
+He so loved things artistic in design -
+Order and beauty, all about him.  Yet
+So kind he was, if it befell his lot
+To dine within the humble peasant's cot,
+He made it seem his native soil to be,
+And thus displayed the true gentility.
+
+Under the rosy banners of the Dawn,
+Around the lake we drifted on, and on.
+It was a time for dreams, and not for speech.
+And so we floated on in silence, each
+Weaving the fancies suiting such a day.
+Helen leaned idly o'er the sail-boat's side,
+And dipped her rosy fingers in the tide;
+And I among the cushions half reclined,
+Half sat, and watched the fleecy clouds at play,
+While Vivian with his blank-book, opposite,
+In which he seemed to either sketch or write,
+Was lost in inspiration of some kind.
+
+No time, no change, no scene, can e'er efface
+My mind's impression of that hour and place;
+It stands out like a picture.  O'er the years,
+Black with their robes of sorrow--veiled with tears,
+Lying with all their lengthened shapes between,
+Untouched, undimmed, I still behold that scene.
+Just as the last of Indian-summer days,
+Replete with sunlight, crowned with amber haze,
+Followed by dark and desolate December,
+Through all the months of winter we remember.
+
+The sun slipped westward.  That peculiar change
+Which creeps into the air, and speaks of night
+While yet the day is full of golden light,
+We felt steal o'er us.
+         Vivian broke the spell
+Of dream-fraught silence, throwing down his book:
+"Young ladies, please allow me to arrange
+These wraps about your shoulders.  I know well
+The fickle nature of our atmosphere, -
+Her smile swift followed by a frown or tear, -
+And go prepared for changes.  Now you look,
+Like--like--oh, where's a pretty simile?
+Had you a pocket mirror here you'd see
+How well my native talent is displayed
+In shawling you.  Red on the brunette maid;
+Blue on the blonde--and quite without design
+(Oh, where IS that comparison of mine?)
+Well--like a June rose and a violet blue
+In one bouquet!  I fancy that will do.
+And now I crave your patience and a boon,
+Which is to listen, while I read my rhyme,
+A floating fancy of the summer time.
+'Tis neither witty, wonderful, nor wise,
+So listen kindly--but don't criticise
+My maiden effort of the afternoon:
+
+"If all the ships I have at sea
+Should come a-sailing home to me,
+Ah, well! the harbour could not hold
+So many sails as there would be
+If all my ships came in from sea.
+
+"If half my ships came home from sea,
+And brought their precious freight to me,
+Ah, well!  I should have wealth as great
+As any king who sits in state -
+So rich the treasures that would be
+In half my ships now out at sea.
+
+"If just one ship I have at sea
+Should come a-sailing home to me,
+Ah, well! the storm-clouds then might frown:
+For if the others all went down
+Still rich and proud and glad I'd be,
+If that one ship came back to me.
+
+"If that one ship went down at sea,
+And all the others came to me,
+Weighed down with gems and wealth untold,
+With glory, honour, riches, gold,
+The poorest soul on earth I'd be
+If that one ship came not to me.
+
+"O skies be calm!  O winds blow free -
+Blow all my ships safe home to me.
+But if thou sendest some a-wrack
+To never more come sailing back,
+Send any--all that skim the sea,
+But bring my love-ship home to me."
+
+
+Helen was leaning by me, and her head
+Rested against my shoulder:  as he read,
+I stroked her hair, and watched the fleecy skies,
+And when he finished, did not turn my eyes.
+I felt too happy and too shy to meet
+His gaze just then.  I said, "'Tis very sweet,
+And suits the day; does it not, Helen, dear?"
+But Helen, voiceless, did not seem to hear.
+"'Tis strange," I added, "how you poets sing
+So feelingly about the very thing
+You care not for! and dress up an ideal
+So well, it looks a living, breathing real!
+Now, to a listener, your love song seemed
+A heart's out-pouring; yet I've heard you say
+Almost the opposite; or that you deemed
+Position, honour, glory, power, fame,
+Gained without loss of conscience or good name,
+The things to live for."
+         "Have you?  Well, you may,"
+Laughed Vivian, "but 'twas years--or months' ago!
+And Solomon says wise men change, you know!
+I now speak truth! if she I hold most dear
+Slipped from my life, and no least hope were left,
+My heart would find the years more lonely here
+Than if I were of wealth, fame, friends, bereft,
+And sent, an exile, to a foreign land."
+His voice was low, and measured:  as he spoke,
+New, unknown chords of melody awoke
+Within my soul.  I felt my heart expand
+With that sweet fulness born of love.  I turned
+To hide the blushes on my cheek that burned,
+And leaning over Helen, breathed her name.
+She lay so motionless I thought she slept:
+But, as I spoke, I saw her eyes unclose,
+And o'er her face a sudden glory swept,
+And a slight tremor thrilled all through her frame.
+"Sweet friend," I said, "your face is full of light
+What were the dreams that made your eyes so bright?"
+She only smiled for answer, and arose
+From her reclining posture at my side,
+Threw back the clust'ring ringlets from her face
+With a quick gesture, full of easy grace,
+And, turning, spoke to Vivian.  "Will you guide
+The boat up near that little clump of green
+Off to the right?  There's where the lilies grow.
+We quite forgot our errand here, Maurine,
+And our few moments have grown into hours.
+What will Aunt Ruth think of our ling'ring so?
+There--that will do--now I can reach the flowers."
+
+"Hark! just hear that!" and Vivian broke forth singing,
+"'Row, brothers, row.'  The six o'clock bell's ringing!
+Who ever knew three hours to go so fast
+In all the annals of the world, before?
+I could have sworn not over one had passed.
+Young ladies, I am forced to go ashore!
+I thank you for the pleasure you have given;
+This afternoon has been a glimpse of heaven.
+Good-night--sweet dreams! and by your gracious leave,
+I'll pay my compliments to-morrow eve."
+
+A smile, a bow, and he had gone his way:
+And, in the waning glory of the day,
+Down cool, green lanes, and through the length'ning shadows,
+Silent, we wandered back across the meadows.
+The wreath was finished, and adorned my room;
+Long afterward, the lilies' copied bloom
+Was like a horrid spectre in my sight,
+Staring upon me morning, noon, and night.
+
+The sun went down.  The sad new moon rose up,
+And passed before me like an empty cup,
+The Great Unseen brims full of pain or bliss,
+And gives His children, saying, "Drink of this."
+
+A light wind, from the open casement, fanned
+My brow and Helen's, as we, hand in hand,
+Sat looking out upon the twilight scene,
+In dreamy silence.  Helen's dark-blue eyes,
+Like two lost stars that wandered from the skies
+Some night adown the meteor's shining track,
+And always had been grieving to go back,
+Now gazed up, wistfully, at heaven's dome,
+And seemed to recognise and long for home.
+Her sweet voice broke the silence:  "Wish, Maurine,
+Before you speak! you know the moon is new,
+And anything you wish for will come true
+Before it wanes.  I do believe the sign!
+Now tell me your wish, and I'll tell you mine."
+
+I turned and looked up at the slim young moon;
+And, with an almost superstitious heart,
+I sighed, "Oh, new moon! help me, by thine art,
+To grow all grace and goodness, and to be
+Worthy the love a true heart proffers me."
+Then smiling down, I said, "Dear one! my boon,
+I fear, is quite too silly or too sweet
+For my repeating:  so we'll let it stay
+Between the moon and me.  But if I may
+I'll listen now to your wish.  Tell me, please!"
+
+All suddenly she nestled at my feet,
+And hid her blushing face upon my knees.
+Then drew my hand against her glowing cheek,
+And, leaning on my breast, began to speak,
+Half sighing out the words my tortured ear
+Reached down to catch, while striving not to hear.
+
+"Can you not guess who 'twas about, Maurine?
+Oh, my sweet friend! you must ere this have seen
+The love I tried to cover from all eyes
+And from myself.  Ah, foolish little heart!
+As well it might go seeking for some art
+Whereby to hide the sun in noonday skies.
+When first the strange sound of his voice I heard,
+Looked on his noble face, and, touched his hand,
+My slumb'ring heart thrilled through and through and stirred
+As if to say, 'I hear, and understand.'
+And day by day mine eyes were blest beholding
+The inner beauty of his life, unfolding
+In countless words and actions that portrayed
+The noble stuff of which his soul was made.
+And more and more I felt my heart upreaching
+Toward the truth, drawn gently by his teaching,
+As flowers are drawn by sunlight.  And there grew
+A strange, shy something in its depths, I knew
+At length was love, because it was so sad
+And yet so sweet, and made my heart so glad,
+Yet seemed to pain me.  Then, for very shame,
+Lest all should read my secret and its name,
+I strove to hide it in my breast away,
+Where God could see it only.  But each day
+It seemed to grow within me, and would rise,
+Like my own soul, and look forth from my eyes,
+Defying bonds of silence; and would speak,
+In its red-lettered language, on my cheek,
+If but his name was uttered.  You were kind,
+My own Maurine! as you alone could be,
+So long the sharer of my heart and mind,
+While yet you saw, in seeming not to see.
+In all the years we have been friends, my own,
+And loved as women very rarely do,
+My heart no sorrow and no joy has known
+It has not shared at once, in full, with you.
+And I so longed to speak to you of this,
+When first I felt its mingled pain and bliss;
+Yet dared not, lest you, knowing him, should say,
+In pity for my folly--'Lack-a-day!
+You are undone:  because no mortal art
+Can win the love of such a lofty heart.'
+And so I waited, silent and in pain,
+Till I could know I did not love in vain.
+And now I know, beyond a doubt or fear.
+Did he not say, 'If she I hold most dear
+Slipped from my life, and no least hope were left,
+My heart would find the years more lonely here
+Than if I were of wealth, fame, friends, bereft,
+And sent, an exile, to a foreign land'?
+Oh, darling, you must LOVE, to understand
+The joy that thrilled all through me at those words.
+It was as if a thousand singing birds
+Within my heart broke forth in notes of praise.
+I did not look up, but I knew his gaze
+Was on my face, and that his eyes must see
+The joy I felt almost transfigured me.
+He loves me--loves me! so the birds kept singing,
+And all my soul with that sweet strain is ringing.
+If there were added but one drop of bliss,
+No more my cup would hold:  and so, this eve,
+I made a wish that I might feel his kiss
+Upon my lips, ere yon pale moon should leave
+The stars all lonely, having waned away,
+Too old and weak and bowed with care to stay."
+
+Her voice sighed in silence.  While she spoke
+My heart writhed in me, praying she would cease -
+Each word she uttered falling like a stroke
+On my bare soul.  And now a hush like death,
+Save that 'twas broken by a quick-drawn breath,
+Fell 'round me, but brought not the hoped-for peace.
+For when the lash no longer leaves its blows,
+The flesh still quivers, and the blood still flows.
+
+She nestled on my bosom like a child,
+And 'neath her head my tortured heart throbbed wild
+With pain and pity.  She had told her tale -
+Her self-deceiving story to the end.
+How could I look down on her as she lay
+So fair, and sweet, and lily-like, and frail -
+A tender blossom on my breast, and say,
+"Nay, you are wrong--you do mistake, dear friend!
+'Tis I am loved, not you"?  Yet that were truth,
+And she must know it later.
+         Should I speak,
+And spread a ghastly pallor o'er the cheek
+Flushed now with joy?  And while I, doubting pondered,
+She spoke again.  "Maurine!  I oft have wondered
+Why you and Vivian were not lovers.  He
+Is all a heart could ask its king to be;
+And you have beauty, intellect and youth.
+I think it strange you have not loved each other -
+Strange how he could pass by you for another
+Not half so fair or worthy.  Yet I know
+A loving Father pre-arranged it so.
+I think my heart has known him all these years,
+And waited for him.  And if when he came
+It had been as a lover of my friend,
+I should have recognised him, all the same,
+As my soul-mate, and loved him to the end,
+Hiding my grief, and forcing back my tears
+Till on my heart, slow dropping, day by day,
+Unseen they fell, and wore it all away.
+And so a tender Father kept him free,
+With all the largeness of his love, for me -
+For me, unworthy such a precious gift!
+Yet I will bend each effort of my life
+To grow in grace and goodness, and to lift
+My soul and spirit to his lofty height,
+So to deserve that holy name, his wife.
+Sweet friend, it fills my whole heart with delight
+To breathe its long hid secret in your ear.
+Speak, my Maurine, and say you love to hear!"
+
+The while she spoke, my active brain gave rise
+To one great thought of mighty sacrifice
+And self-denial.  Oh! it blanched my cheek,
+And wrung my soul; and from my heart it drove
+All life and feeling.  Coward-like, I strove
+To send it from me; but I felt it cling
+And hold fast on my mind like some live thing;
+And all the Self within me felt its touch
+And cried, "No, no!  I cannot do so much -
+I am not strong enough--there is no call."
+And then the voice of Helen bade me speak,
+And with a calmness born of nerve, I said,
+Scarce knowing what I uttered, "Sweetheart, all
+Your joys and sorrows are with mine own wed.
+I thank you for your confidence, and pray
+I may deserve it always.  But, dear one,
+Something--perhaps our boat-ride in the sun -
+Has set my head to aching.  I must go
+To bed directly; and you will, I know,
+Grant me your pardon, and another day
+We'll talk of this together.  Now good-night,
+And angels guard you with their wings of light."
+
+I kissed her lips, and held her on my heart,
+And viewed her as I ne'er had done before.
+I gazed upon her features o'er and o'er;
+Marked her white, tender face--her fragile form,
+Like some frail plant that withers in the storm;
+Saw she was fairer in her new-found joy
+Than e'er before; and thought, "Can I destroy
+God's handiwork, or leave it at the best
+A broken harp, while I close clasp my bliss?"
+I bent my head and gave her one last kiss,
+And sought my room, and found there such relief
+As sad hearts feel when first alone with grief.
+
+The moon went down, slow sailing from my sight,
+And left the stars to watch away the night.
+O stars, sweet stars, so changeless and serene!
+What depths of woe your pitying eyes have seen!
+The proud sun sets, and leaves us with our sorrow,
+To grope alone in darkness till the morrow.
+The languid moon, e'en if she deigns to rise,
+Soon seeks her couch, grown weary of our sighs;
+But from the early gloaming till the day
+Sends golden-liveried heralds forth to say
+He comes in might; the patient stars shine on,
+Steadfast and faithful, from twilight to dawn.
+And, as they shone upon Gethsemane,
+And watched the struggle of a God-like soul,
+Now from the same far height they shone on me,
+And saw the waves of anguish o'er me roll.
+
+The storm had come upon me all unseen:
+No sound of thunder fell upon my ear;
+No cloud arose to tell me it was near;
+But under skies all sunlit, and serene,
+I floated with the current of the stream,
+And thought life all one golden-haloed dream.
+When lo! a hurricane, with awful force,
+Swept swift upon its devastating course,
+Wrecked my frail bark, and cast me on the wave
+Where all my hopes had found a sudden grave.
+Love makes us blind and selfish; otherwise
+I had seen Helen's secret in her eyes;
+So used I was to reading every look
+In her sweet face, as I would read a book.
+But now, made sightless by love's blinding rays,
+I had gone on unseeing, to the end
+Where Pain dispelled the mist of golden haze
+That walled me in, and lo!  I found my friend
+Who journeyed with me--at my very side -
+Had been sore wounded to the heart, while I,
+Both deaf and blind, saw not, nor heard her cry.
+And then I sobbed, "O God!  I would have died
+To save her this."  And as I cried in pain,
+There leaped forth from the still, white realm of Thought
+Where Conscience dwells, that unimpassioned spot
+As widely different from the heart's domain
+As north from south--the impulse felt before,
+And put away; but now it rose once more,
+In greater strength, and said, "Heart, wouldst thou prove
+What lips have uttered?  Then go, lay thy love
+On Friendship's altar, as thy offering."
+"Nay!" cried my heart, "ask any other thing -
+Ask life itself--'twere easier sacrifice.
+But ask not love, for that I cannot give."
+
+"But," spoke the voice, "the meanest insect dies,
+And is no hero! heroes dare to live
+When all that makes life sweet is snatched away."
+So with my heart, in converse, till the day,
+In gold and crimson billows, rose and broke,
+The voice of Conscience, all unwearied, spoke.
+Love warred with Friendship, heart with Conscience fought,
+Hours rolled away, and yet the end was not.
+And wily Self, tricked out like tenderness,
+Sighed, "Think how one, whose life thou wert to bless,
+Will be cast down, and grope in doubt and fear!
+Wouldst thou wound him, to give thy friend relief?
+Can wrong make right?"
+          "Nay!" Conscience said, "but Pride
+And Time can heal the saddest hurts of Love.
+While Friendship's wounds gape wide and yet more wide,
+And bitter fountains of the spirit prove."
+
+At length, exhausted with the wearing strife,
+I cast the new-found burden of my life
+On God's broad breast, and sought that deep repose
+That only he who watched with sorrow knows.
+
+
+PART IV
+
+
+"Maurine, Maurine, 'tis ten o'clock! arise,
+My pretty sluggard, open those dark eyes
+And see where yonder sun is!  Do you know
+I made my toilet just four hours ago?"
+
+'Twas Helen's voice:  and Helen's gentle kiss
+Fell on my cheek.  As from a deep abyss,
+I drew my weary self from that strange sleep
+That rests not nor refreshes.  Scarce awake
+Or conscious, yet there seemed a heavy weight
+Bound on my breast, as by a cruel Fate.
+I knew not why, and yet I longed to weep.
+Some dark cloud seemed to hang upon the day;
+And, for a moment, in that trance I lay,
+When suddenly the truth did o'er me break,
+Like some great wave upon a helpless child.
+The dull pain in my breast grew like a knife -
+The heavy throbbing of my heart grew wild,
+And God gave back the burden of the life
+He kept what time I slumbered.
+         "You are ill,"
+Cried Helen, "with that blinding headache still!
+You look so pale and weary.  Now let me
+Play nurse, Maurine, and care for you to-day!
+And first I'll suit some dainty to your taste,
+And bring it to you, with a cup of tea."
+And off she ran, not waiting my reply.
+But, wanting most the sunshine and the light,
+I left my couch, and clothed myself in haste,
+And, kneeling, sent to God an earnest cry
+For help and guidance.
+         "Show Thou me the way,
+Where duty leads, for I am blind! my sight
+Obscured by self.  Oh, lead my steps aright!
+Help me see the path:  and if it may,
+Let this cup pass:- and yet, Thou heavenly One,
+Thy will in all things, not mine own, be done."
+Rising, I went upon my way, receiving
+The strength prayer gives alway to hearts believing.
+I felt that unseen hands were leading me,
+And knew the end was peace.
+
+         "What! are you up?"
+Cried Helen, coming with a tray, and cup,
+Of tender toast and fragrant, smoking tea.
+"You naughty girl! you should have stayed in bed
+Until you ate your breakfast, and were better;
+I've something hidden for you here--a letter.
+But drink your tea before you read it, dear!
+'Tis from some distant cousin, auntie said,
+And so you need not hurry.  Now be good,
+And mind your Helen."
+
+         So, in passive mood,
+I laid the still unopened letter near,
+And loitered at my breakfast more to please
+My nurse, than any hunger to appease.
+Then listlessly I broke the seal and read
+The few lines written in a bold free hand:
+"New London, Canada.  Dear Coz. Maurine!
+(In spite of generations stretched between
+Our natural right to that most handy claim
+Of cousinship, we'll use it all the same)
+I'm coming to see you! honestly, in truth!
+I've threatened often--now I mean to act;
+You'll find my coming is a stubborn fact.
+Keep quiet, though, and do not tell Aunt Ruth.
+I wonder if she'll know her petted boy
+In spite of changes?  Look for me until
+You see me coming.  As of old I'm still
+Your faithful friend, and loving cousin, Roy."
+
+So Roy was coming!  He and I had played
+As boy and girl, and later, youth and maid,
+Full half our lives together.  He had been,
+Like me, an orphan; and the roof of kin
+Gave both kind shelter.  Swift years sped away
+Ere change was felt:  and then one summer day
+A long-lost uncle sailed from India's shore -
+Made Roy his heir, and he was ours no more.
+
+"He'd write us daily, and we'd see his face
+Once every year."  Such was his promise given
+The morn he left.  But now the years were seven
+Since last he looked upon the olden place.
+He'd been through college, travelled in all lands,
+Sailed over seas, and trod the desert sands.
+Would write and plan a visit, then, ere long,
+Would write again from Egypt, or Hong Kong -
+Some fancy called him thither unforeseen.
+So years had passed, till seven lay between
+His going and the coming of this note,
+Which I hid in my bosom, and replied
+To Aunt Ruth's queries, "What the truant wrote?"
+By saying he was still upon the wing,
+And merely dropped a line, while journeying,
+To say he lived:  and she was satisfied.
+
+Sometimes it happens, in this world so strange,
+A human heart will pass through mortal strife,
+And writhe in torture:  while the old sweet life,
+So full of hope and beauty, bloom and grace,
+Is slowly strangled by remorseless Pain:
+And one stern, cold, relentless, takes its place -
+A ghastly, pallid spectre of the slain.
+Yet those in daily converse see no change
+Nor dream the heart has suffered.
+         So that day
+I passed along toward the troubled way
+Stern duty pointed, and no mortal guessed
+A mighty conflict had disturbed my breast.
+
+I had resolved to yield up to my friend
+The man I loved.  Since she, too, loved him so
+I saw no other way in honour left.
+She was so weak and fragile, once bereft
+Of this great hope, that held her with such power,
+She would wilt down, like some frost-bitten flower,
+And swift, untimely death would be the end.
+But I was strong; and hardy plants, which grow
+In out-door soil, can bear bleak winds that blow
+From Arctic lands, whereof a single breath
+Would lay the hot-house blossom low in death.
+
+The hours went by, too slow, and yet too fast.
+All day I argued with my foolish heart
+That bade me play the shrinking coward's part
+And hide from pain.  And when the day had past
+And time for Vivian's call drew near and nearer,
+It pleaded, "Wait until the way seems clearer;
+Say you are ill--or busy; keep away
+Until you gather strength enough to play
+The part you have resolved on."
+
+         "Nay, not so,"
+Made answer clear-eyed Reason; "do you go
+And put your resolution to the test.
+Resolve, however nobly formed, at best
+Is but a still-born babe of Thought until
+It proves existence of its life and will
+By sound or action."
+         So when Helen came
+And knelt by me, her fair face all aflame
+With sudden blushes, whispering, "My sweet!
+My heart can hear the music of his feet,
+Go down with me to meet him," I arose,
+And went with her all calmly, as one goes
+To look upon the dear face of the dead.
+
+That eve I know not what I did or said.
+I was not cold--my manner was not strange;
+Perchance I talked more freely than my wont,
+But in my speech was naught could give affront;
+Yet I conveyed, as only woman can,
+That nameless SOMETHING which bespeaks a chance.
+
+'Tis in the power of woman, if she be
+Whole-souled and noble, free from coquetry -
+Her motives all unselfish, worthy, good,
+To make herself and feelings understood
+By nameless acts, thus sparing what to man,
+However gently answered, causes pain,
+The offering of his hand and heart in vain.
+
+She can be friendly, unrestrained, and kind
+Assume no airs of pride or arrogance;
+But in her voice, her manner, and her glance,
+Convey that mystic something, undefined,
+Which men fail not to understand and read,
+And, when not blind with egoism, heed.
+My task was harder--'twas the slow undoing
+Of long sweet months of unimpeded wooing.
+It was to hide and cover and conceal
+The truth, assuming what I did not feel.
+It was to dam love's happy singing tide
+That blessed me with its hopeful, tuneful tone
+By feigned indiff'rence, till it turned aside
+And changed its channel, leaving me alone
+To walk parched plains, and thirst for that sweet draught
+My lips had tasted, but another quaffed.
+It could be done, for no words yet were spoken -
+None to recall--no pledges to be broken.
+"He will be grieved, then angry, cold, then cross,"
+I reasoned, thinking what would be his part
+In this strange drama.  "Then, because he
+Feels something lacking, to make good his loss
+He'll turn to Helen, and her gentle grace
+And loving acts will win her soon the place
+I hold to-day; and like a troubled dream
+At length, our past, when he looks back, will seem."
+
+That evening passed with music, chat, and song,
+But hours that once had flown on airy wings
+Now limped on weary, aching limbs along,
+Each moment like some dreaded step that brings
+A twinge of pain.
+         As Vivian rose to go,
+Slow bending to me from his greater height,
+He took my hand, and, looking in my eyes,
+With tender questioning and pained surprise,
+Said, "Maurine, you are not yourself to-night;
+What is it?  Are you ailing?"
+         "Ailing?  No,"
+I answered, laughing lightly, "I am not;
+Just see my cheek, sir--is it thin, or pale?
+Now, tell me, am I looking very frail?"
+"Nay, nay," he answered, "it cannot be SEEN,
+The change I speak of--'twas more in your mien -
+Preoccupation, or--I know not what!
+Miss Helen, am I wrong, or does Maurine
+Seem to have something on her mind this eve?"
+"She does," laughed Helen, "and I do believe
+I know what 'tis!  A letter came to-day
+Which she read slyly, and then hid away
+Close to her heart, not knowing I was near,
+And since she's been as you have seen her here.
+See how she blushes! so my random shot
+We must believe has struck a tender spot."
+
+Her rippling laughter floated through the room,
+And redder yet I felt the hot blood rise,
+Then surge away, to leave me pale as death
+Under the dark and swiftly gathering gloom
+Of Vivian's questioning, accusing eyes,
+That searched my soul.  I almost shrieked beneath
+That stern, fixed gaze, and stood spellbound until
+He turned with sudden movement, gave his hand
+To each in turn, and said:  "You must not stand
+Longer, young ladies, in this open door.
+The air is heavy with a cold, damp chill.
+We shall have rain to-morrow, or before.
+Good-night."
+
+   He vanished in the darkling shade;
+And so the dreaded evening found an end,
+That saw me grasp the conscience-whetted blade,
+And strike a blow for honour and for friend.
+
+"How swiftly passed the evening!" Helen sighed.
+"How long the hours!" my tortured heart replied.
+Joy, like a child, with lightsome steps doth glide
+By Father Time, and, looking in his face,
+Cries, snatching blossoms from the fair roadside,
+"I could pluck more, but for thy hurried pace."
+The while her elder brother Pain, man grown,
+Whose feet are hurt by many a thorn and stone,
+Looks to some distant hilltop, high and calm,
+Where he shall find not only rest, but balm
+For all his wounds, and cries, in tones of woe,
+"Oh, Father Time! why is thy pace so slow?"
+
+Two days, all sad with lonely wind and rain,
+Went sobbing by, repeating o'er and o'er
+The miserere, desolate and drear,
+Which every human heart must sometime hear.
+Pain is but little varied.  Its refrain,
+Whate'er the words are, is for aye the same.
+The third day brought a change, for with it came
+Not only sunny smiles to Nature's face,
+But Roy, our Roy came back to us.  Once more
+We looked into his laughing, handsome eyes,
+Which, while they gave Aunt Ruth a glad surprise
+In no way puzzled her, for one glance told
+What each succeeding one confirmed, that he
+Who bent above her with the lissome grace
+Of his fine form, though grown so tall, could be
+No other than the Roy Montaine of old.
+
+It was a sweet reunion, and he brought
+So much of sunshine with him that I caught,
+Just from his smile alone, enough of gladness
+To make my heart forget a time its sadness.
+We talked together of the dear old days:
+Leaving the present, with its depths and heights
+Of life's maturer sorrows and delights,
+I turned back to my childhood's level land,
+And Roy and I, dear playmates, hand in hand,
+Wandered in mem'ry through the olden ways.
+
+It was the second evening of his coming.
+Helen was playing dreamily, and humming
+Some wordless melody of white-souled thought,
+While Roy and I sat by the open door,
+Re-living childish incidents of yore.
+My eyes were glowing, and my cheeks were hot
+With warm young blood; excitement, joy, or pain
+Alike would send swift coursing through each vein.
+Roy, always eloquent, was waxing fine,
+And bringing vividly before my gaze
+Some old adventure of those halcyon days,
+When suddenly, in pauses of the talk,
+I heard a well-known step upon the walk,
+And looked up quickly to meet full in mine
+The eyes of Vivian Dangerfield.  A flash
+Shot from their depths:- a sudden blaze of light
+Like that swift followed by the thunder's crash,
+Which said, "Suspicion is confirmed by sight,"
+As they fell on the pleasant doorway scene.
+Then o'er his clear-cut face a cold, white look
+Crept, like the pallid moonlight o'er a brook,
+And, with a slight, proud bending of the head,
+He stepped toward us haughtily, and said:
+"Please pardon my intrusion, Miss Maurine,
+I called to ask Miss Trevor for a book
+She spoke of lending me; nay, sit you still,
+And I, by grant of your permission, will
+Pass by to where I hear her playing."
+            "Stay,"
+I said, "one moment, Vivian, if you please;"
+And suddenly bereft of all my ease,
+And scarcely knowing what to do or say,
+Confused as any schoolgirl, I arose,
+And some way made each to the other known.
+They bowed, shook hands, then Vivian turned away
+And sought out Helen, leaving us alone.
+
+"One of Miss Trevor's or of Maurine's beaux?
+Which may he be, who cometh like a prince
+With haughty bearing and an eagle eye?"
+Roy queried, laughing; and I answered, "Since
+You saw him pass me for Miss Trevor's side,
+I leave your own good judgment to reply."
+
+And straightway caused the tide of talk to glide
+In other channels, striving to dispel
+The sudden gloom that o'er my spirit fell.
+
+We mortals are such hypocrites at best!
+When Conscience tries our courage with a test,
+And points to some steep pathway, we set out
+Boldly, denying any fear or doubt;
+But pause before the first rock in the way,
+And, looking back, with tears, at Conscience, say:
+"We are so sad, dear Conscience! for we would
+Most gladly do what to thee seemeth good;
+But lo! this rock! we cannot climb it, so
+Thou must point out some other way to go."
+Yet secretly we are rejoicing:  and,
+When right before our faces, as we stand
+In seeming grief, the rock is cleft in twain,
+Leaving the pathway clear, we shrink in pain,
+And, loth to go, by every act reveal
+What we so tried from Conscience to conceal.
+
+I saw that hour, the way made plain, to do
+With scarce an effort what had seemed a strife
+That would require the strength of my whole life.
+
+Women have quick perceptions, and I knew
+That Vivian's heart was full of jealous pain,
+Suspecting--nay, BELIEVING--Roy Montaine
+To be my lover.  First my altered mien -
+And next the letter--then the doorway scene -
+My flushed face gazing in the one above
+That bent so near me, and my strange confusion
+When Vivian came all led to one conclusion:
+That I had but been playing with his love,
+As women sometimes cruelly do play
+With hearts when their true lovers are away.
+
+There could be nothing easier than just
+To let him linger on in this belief
+Till hourly-fed Suspicion and Distrust
+Should turn to scorn and anger all his grief.
+Compared with me, so doubly sweet and pure
+Would Helen seem, my purpose would be sure
+And certain of completion in the end.
+But now, the way was made so straight and clear,
+My coward heart shrank back in guilty fear,
+Till Conscience whispered with her "still small voice,"
+"The precious time is passing--make thy choice -
+Resign thy love, or slay thy trusting friend."
+
+The growing moon, watched by the myriad eyes
+Of countless stars, went sailing through the skies,
+Like some young prince, rising to rule a nation,
+To whom all eyes are turned in expectation.
+A woman who possesses tact and art
+And strength of will can take the hand of doom,
+And walk on, smiling sweetly as she goes,
+With rosy lips, and rounded cheeks of bloom,
+Cheating a loud-tongued world that never knows
+The pain and sorrow of her hidden heart.
+And so I joined in Roy's bright changing chat;
+Answered his sallies--talked of this and that,
+My brow unruffled as the calm, still wave
+That tells not of the wrecked ship, and the grave
+Beneath its surface.
+         Then we heard, ere long,
+The sound of Helen's gentle voice in song,
+And, rising, entered where the subtle power
+Of Vivian's eyes, forgiving while accusing,
+Finding me weak, had won me, in that hour;
+But Roy, always polite and debonair
+Where ladies were, now hung about my chair
+With nameless delicate attentions, using
+That air devotional, and those small arts
+Acquaintance with society imparts
+To men gallant by nature.
+         'Twas my sex
+And not myself he bowed to.  Had my place
+Been filled that evening by a dowager
+Twice his own age, he would have given her
+The same attentions.  But they served to vex
+Whatever hope in Vivian's heart remained.
+The cold, white look crept back upon his face,
+Which told how deeply he was hurt and pained.
+
+Little by little all things had conspired
+To bring events I dreaded, yet desired.
+We were in constant intercourse:  walks, rides,
+Picnics and sails, filled weeks of golden weather,
+And almost hourly we were thrown together.
+No words were spoken of rebuke or scorn:
+Good friends we seemed.  But as a gulf divides
+This land and that, though lying side by side,
+So rolled a gulf between us--deep and wide -
+The gulf of doubt, which widened slowly morn
+And noon and night.
+
+         Free and informal were
+These picnics and excursions.  Yet, although
+Helen and I would sometimes choose to go
+Without our escorts, leaving them quite free,
+It happened alway Roy would seek out me
+Ere passed the day, while Vivian walked with her.
+I had no thought of flirting.  Roy was just
+Like some dear brother, and I quite forgot
+The kinship was so distant it was not
+Safe to rely upon in perfect trust,
+Without reserve or caution.  Many a time,
+When there was some steep mountain-side to climb
+And I grew weary, he would say, "Maurine,
+Come rest you here."  And I would go and lean
+My head upon his shoulder, or would stand
+And let him hold in his my willing hand,
+The while he stroked it gently with his own.
+Or I would let him clasp me with his arm,
+Nor entertained a thought of any harm,
+Nor once supposed but Vivian was alone
+In his suspicions.  But ere long the truth
+I learned in consternation! both Aunt Ruth
+And Helen honestly, in faith, believed
+That Roy and I were lovers.
+
+         Undeceived,
+Some careless words might open Vivian's eyes
+And spoil my plans.  So reasoning in this wise,
+To all their sallies I in jest replied,
+To naught assented, and yet naught denied,
+With Roy unchanged remaining, confident
+Each understood just what the other meant.
+
+If I grew weary of this double part,
+And self-imposed deception caused my heart
+Sometimes to shrink, I needed but to gaze
+On Helen's face:  that wore a look ethereal,
+As if she dwelt above the things material
+And held communion with the angels.  So
+I fed my strength and courage through the days.
+What time the harvest moon rose full and clear
+And cast its ling'ring radiance on the earth,
+We made a feast; and called from far and near,
+Our friends, who came to share the scene of mirth.
+Fair forms and faces flitted to and fro;
+But none more sweet than Helen's.  Robed in white,
+She floated like a vision through the dance.
+So frailly fragile and so phantom fair,
+She seemed like some stray spirit of the air,
+And was pursued by many an anxious glance
+That looked to see her fading from the sight
+Like figures that a dreamer sees at night.
+And noble men and gallants graced the scene:
+Yet none more noble or more grand of mien
+Than Vivian--broad of chest and shoulder, tall
+And finely formed, as any Grecian god
+Whose high-arched foot on Mount Olympus trod.
+His clear-cut face was beardless; and, like those
+Same Grecian statues, when in calm repose,
+Was it in hue and feature.  Framed in hair
+Dark and abundant; lighted by large eyes
+That could be cold as steel in winter air,
+Or warm and sunny as Italian skies.
+
+Weary of mirth and music, and the sound
+Of tripping feet, I sought a moment's rest
+Within the lib'ry, where a group I found
+Of guests, discussing with apparent zest
+Some theme of interest--Vivian, near the while,
+Leaning and listening with his slow, odd smile.
+"Now, Miss La Pelle, we will appeal to you,"
+Cried young Guy Semple, as I entered.  "We
+Have been discussing right before his face,
+All unrebuked by him, as you may see,
+A poem lately published by our friend:
+And we are quite divided.  I contend
+The poem is a libel and untrue.
+I hold the fickle women are but few,
+Compared with those who are like yon fair moon
+That, ever faithful, rises in her place
+Whether she's greeted by the flowers of June
+Or cold and dreary stretches of white space."
+
+"Oh!" cried another, "Mr. Dangerfield,
+Look to your laurels! or you needs must yield
+The crown to Semple, who, 'tis very plain,
+Has mounted Pegasus and grasped his mane."
+
+All laughed:  and then, as Guy appealed to me,
+I answered lightly, "My young friend, I fear
+You chose a most unlucky simile
+To prove the truth of woman.  To her place
+The moon does rise--but with a different face
+Each time she comes.  But now I needs must hear
+The poem read, before I can consent
+To pass my judgment on the sentiment."
+All clamoured that the author was the man
+To read the poem:  and, with tones that said
+More than the cutting, scornful words he read,
+Taking the book Guy gave him, he began:
+
+
+HER LOVE.
+
+
+The sands upon the ocean side
+That change about with every tide,
+And never true to one abide,
+   A woman's love I liken to.
+
+The summer zephyrs, light and vain,
+That sing the same alluring strain
+To every grass blade on the plain -
+   A woman's love is nothing more.
+
+The sunshine of an April day
+That comes to warm you with its ray,
+But while you smile has flown away -
+   A woman's love is like to this.
+
+God made poor woman with no heart,
+But gave her skill, and tact, and art,
+And so she lives, and plays her part.
+   We must not blame, but pity her.
+
+She leans to man--but just to hear
+The praise he whispers in her ear,
+Herself, not him, she holdeth dear -
+   Oh, fool! to be deceived by her.
+
+To sate her selfish thirst she quaffs
+The love of strong hearts in sweet draughts,
+Then throws them lightly by and laughs,
+   Too weak to understand their pain.
+
+As changeful as the winds that blow
+From every region, to and fro,
+Devoid of heart, she cannot know
+   The suffering of a human heart.
+
+
+I knew the cold, fixed gaze of Vivian's eyes
+Saw the slow colour to my forehead rise;
+But lightly answered, toying with my fan,
+"That sentiment is very like a man!
+Men call us fickle, but they do us wrong;
+We're only frail and helpless, men are strong;
+And when love dies, they take the poor dead thing
+And make a shroud out of their suffering,
+And drag the corpse about with them for years.
+But we?--we mourn it for a day with tears!
+And then we robe it for its last long rest,
+And being women, feeble things at best,
+We cannot dig the grave ourselves.  And so
+We call strong-limbed New Love to lay it low:
+Immortal sexton he! whom Venus sends
+To do this service for her earthly friends,
+The trusty fellow digs the grave so deep
+Nothing disturbs the dead laid there to sleep."
+
+The laugh that followed had not died away
+Ere Roy Montaine came seeking me to say
+The band was tuning for our waltz, and so
+Back to the ball-room bore me.  In the glow
+And heat and whirl, my strength ere long was spent,
+And I grew faint and dizzy, and we went
+Out on the cool moonlighted portico,
+And, sitting there, Roy drew my languid head
+Upon the shelter of his breast, and bent
+His smiling eyes upon me, as he said:
+"I'll try the mesmerism of my touch
+To work a cure:  be very quiet now,
+And let me make some passes o'er your brow.
+Why, how it throbs! you've exercised too much!
+I shall not let you dance again to-night."
+
+Just then before us, in the broad moonlight,
+Two forms were mirrored:  and I turned my face
+To catch the teasing and mischievous glance
+Of Helen's eyes, as, heated by the dance,
+Leaning on Vivian's arm, she sought this place.
+
+"I beg your pardon," came in that round tone
+Of his low voice.  "I think we do intrude."
+Bowing, they turned, and left us quite alone
+Ere I could speak or change my attitude.
+
+
+PART V
+
+
+A visit to a cave some miles away
+Was next in order.  So, one sunny day,
+Four prancing steeds conveyed a laughing load
+Of merry pleasure-seekers o'er the road.
+A basket picnic, music, and croquet
+Were in the programme.  Skies were blue and clear,
+And cool winds whispered of the Autumn near.
+The merry-makers filled the time with pleasure:
+Some floated to the music's rhythmic measure,
+Some played, some promenaded on the green.
+Ticked off by happy hearts, the moments passed.
+The afternoon, all glow and glimmer, came.
+Helen and Roy were leaders of some game,
+And Vivian was not visible.
+
+      "Maurine,
+I challenge you to climb yon cliff with me!
+And who shall tire, or reach the summit last
+Must pay a forfeit," cried a romping maid.
+"Come! start at once, or own you are afraid."
+So challenged I made ready for the race,
+Deciding first the forfeit was to be
+A handsome pair of bootees to replace
+The victor's loss who made the rough ascent.
+The cliff was steep and stony.  On we went
+As eagerly as if the path was Fame,
+And what we climbed for, glory and a name.
+My hands were bruised; my garments sadly rent,
+But on I clambered.  Soon I heard a cry,
+"Maurine!  Maurine! my strength is wholly spent!
+You've won the boots!  I'm going back--good-bye!"
+And back she turned, in spite of laugh and jeer.
+
+I reached the summit:  and its solitude,
+Wherein no living creature did intrude,
+Save some sad birds that wheeled and circled near,
+I found far sweeter than the scene below.
+Alone with One who knew my hidden woe,
+I did not feel so much alone as when
+I mixed with th' unthinking throngs of men.
+
+Some flowers that decked the barren, sterile place
+I plucked, and read the lesson they conveyed,
+That in our lives, albeit dark with shade
+And rough and hard with labour, yet may grow
+The flowers of Patience, Sympathy, and Grace.
+
+As I walked on in meditative thought,
+A serpent writhed across my pathway; not
+A large or deadly serpent; yet the sight
+Filled me with ghastly terror and affright.
+I shrieked aloud:  a darkness veiled my eyes -
+And I fell fainting 'neath the watchful skies.
+
+I was no coward.  Country-bred and born,
+I had no feeling but the keenest scorn
+For those fine lady "ah's" and "oh's" of fear
+So much assumed (when any man is near).
+But God implanted in each human heart
+A natural horror, and a sickly dread
+Of that accursed, slimy, creeping thing
+That squirms a limbless carcass o'er the ground.
+And where that inborn loathing is not found
+You'll find the serpent qualities instead.
+Who fears it not, himself is next of kin,
+And in his bosom holds some treacherous art
+Whereby to counteract its venomed sting.
+And all are sired by Satan--Chief of Sin.
+
+Who loathes not that foul creature of the dust,
+However fair in seeming, I distrust.
+
+I woke from my unconsciousness, to know
+I leaned upon a broad and manly breast,
+And Vivian's voice was speaking, soft and low,
+Sweet whispered words of passion, o'er and o'er.
+I dared not breathe.  Had I found Eden's shore?
+Was this a foretaste of eternal bliss?
+"My love," he sighed, his voice like winds that moan
+Before a rain in Summer-time, "my own,
+For one sweet stolen moment, lie and rest
+Upon this heart that loves and hates you both!
+O fair false face!  Why were you made so fair!
+O mouth of Southern sweetness! that ripe kiss
+That hangs upon you, I do take an oath
+HIS lips shall never gather.  There!--and there!
+I steal it from him.  Are you his--all his?
+Nay, you are mine, this moment, as I dreamed -
+Blind fool--believing you were what you seemed -
+You would be mine in all the years to come.
+Fair fiend!  I love and hate you in a breath.
+O God! if this white pallor were but DEATH,
+And I were stretched beside you, cold and dumb,
+My arms about you, so--in fond embrace!
+My lips pressed, so--upon your dying face!"
+
+"Woman, how dare you bring me to such shame!
+How dare you drive me to an act like this,
+To steal from your unconscious lips the kiss
+You lured me on to think my rightful claim!
+O frail and puny woman! could you know
+The devil that you waken in the hearts
+You snare and bind in your enticing arts,
+The thin, pale stuff that in your veins doth flow
+Would freeze in terror.
+
+         Strange you have such power
+To please or pain us, poor, weak, soulless things -
+Devoid of passion as a senseless flower!
+Like butterflies, your only boast, your wings.
+There, now I scorn you--scorn you from this hour,
+And hate myself for having talked of love!"
+
+He pushed me from him.  And I felt as those
+Doomed angels must, when pearly gates above
+Are closed against them.
+
+         With a feigned surprise
+I started up and opened wide my eyes,
+And looked about.  Then in confusion rose
+And stood before him.
+
+         "Pardon me, I pray!"
+He said quite coldly.  "Half an hour ago
+I left you with the company below,
+And sought this cliff.  A moment since you cried,
+It seemed, in sudden terror and alarm.
+I came in time to see you swoon away.
+You'll need assistance down the rugged side
+Of this steep cliff.  I pray you take my arm."
+
+So, formal and constrained, we passed along,
+Rejoined our friends, and mingled with the throng
+To have no further speech again that day.
+
+Next morn there came a bulky document,
+The legal firm of Blank and Blank had sent,
+Containing news unlooked for.  An estate
+Which proved a cosy fortune--nowise great
+Or princely--had in France been left to me,
+My grandsire's last descendant.  And it brought
+A sense of joy and freedom in the thought
+Of foreign travel, which I hoped would be
+A panacea for my troubled mind,
+That longed to leave the olden scenes behind
+With all their recollections, and to flee
+To some strange country.
+
+            I was in such haste
+To put between me and my native land
+The briny ocean's desolating waste,
+I gave Aunt Ruth no peace, until she planned
+To sail that week, two months:  though she was fain
+To wait until the Springtime.  Roy Montaine
+Would be our guide and escort.
+
+            No one dreamed
+The cause of my strange hurry, but all seemed
+To think good fortune had quite turned my brain.
+One bright October morning, when the woods
+Had donned their purple mantles and red hoods
+In honour of the Frost King, Vivian came,
+Bringing some green leaves, tipped with crimson flame, -
+First trophies of the Autumn time.
+
+         And Roy
+Made a proposal that we all should go
+And ramble in the forest for a while.
+But Helen said she was not well--and so
+Must stay at home.  Then Vivian, with a smile,
+Responded, "I will stay and talk to you,
+And they may go;" at which her two cheeks grew
+Like twin blush roses--dyed with love's red wave,
+Her fair face shone transfigured with great joy.
+
+And Vivian saw--and suddenly was grave.
+Roy took my arm in that protecting way
+Peculiar to some men, which seems to say,
+"I shield my own," a manner pleasing, e'en
+When we are conscious that it does not mean
+More than a simple courtesy.  A woman
+Whose heart is wholly feminine and human,
+And not unsexed by hobbies, likes to be
+The object of that tender chivalry,
+That guardianship which man bestows on her,
+Yet mixed with deference; as if she were
+Half child, half angel.
+
+         Though she may be strong,
+Noble and self-reliant, not afraid
+To raise her hand and voice against all wrong
+And all oppression, yet if she be made,
+With all the independence of her thought,
+A woman womanly, as God designed,
+Albeit she may have as great a mind
+As man, her brother, yet his strength of arm,
+His muscle and his boldness she has not,
+And cannot have without she loses what
+Is far more precious, modesty and grace.
+So, walking on in her appointed place,
+She does not strive to ape him, nor pretend
+But that she needs him for a guide and friend,
+To shield her with his greater strength from harm.
+We reached the forest; wandered to and fro
+Through many a winding path and dim retreat,
+Till I grew weary:  when I chose a seat
+Upon an oak-tree, which had been laid low
+By some wind storm, or by some lightning stroke.
+And Roy stood just below me, where the ledge
+On which I sat sloped steeply to the edge
+Of sunny meadows lying at my feet.
+One hand held mine; the other grasped a limb
+That cast its checkered shadows over him;
+And, with his head thrown back, his dark eyes raised
+And fixed upon me, silently he gazed
+Until I, smiling, turned to him and spoke:
+"Give words, my cousin, to those thoughts that rise,
+And, like dumb spirits, look forth from your eyes."
+
+The smooth and even darkness of his cheek
+Was stained one moment by a flush of red.
+He swayed his lithe form nearer as he stood
+Still clinging to the branch above his head.
+His brilliant eyes grew darker; and he said,
+With sudden passion, "Do you bid me speak?
+I cannot, then, keep silence if I would.
+That hateful fortune, coming as it did,
+Forbade my speaking sooner; for I knew
+A harsh-tongued world would quickly misconstrue
+My motive for a meaner one.  But, sweet,
+So big my heart has grown with love for you
+I cannot shelter it or keep it hid.
+And so I cast it throbbing at your feet,
+For you to guard and cherish, or to break.
+Maurine, I love you better than my life.
+My friend--my cousin--be still more, my wife!
+Maurine, Maurine, what answer do you make?"
+
+I scarce could breathe for wonderment; and numb
+With truth that fell too suddenly, sat dumb
+With sheer amaze, and stared at Roy with eyes
+That looked no feeling but complete surprise.
+He swayed so near his breath was on my cheek.
+"Maurine, Maurine," he whispered, "will you speak?"
+
+Then suddenly, as o'er some magic glass
+One picture in a score of shapes will pass,
+I seemed to see Roy glide before my gaze.
+First, as the playmate of my earlier days -
+Next, as my kin--and then my valued friend,
+And last, my lover.  As when colours blend
+In some unlooked-for group before our eyes,
+We hold the glass, and look them o'er and o'er,
+So now I gazed on Roy in his new guise,
+In which he ne'er appeared to me before.
+
+His form was like a panther's in its grace,
+So lithe and supple, and of medium height,
+And garbed in all the elegance of fashion.
+His large black eyes were full of fire and passion,
+And in expression fearless, firm, and bright.
+His hair was like the very deeps of night,
+And hung in raven clusters 'round a face
+Of dark and flashing beauty.
+
+         He was more
+Like some romantic maiden's grand ideal
+Than like a common being.  As I gazed
+Upon the handsome face to mine upraised,
+I saw before me, living, breathing, real,
+The hero of my early day-dreams:  though
+So full my heart was with that clear-cut face,
+Which, all unlike, yet claimed the hero's place,
+I had not recognised him so before,
+Or thought of him, save as a valued friend.
+So now I called him, adding,
+
+         "Foolish boy!
+Each word of love you utter aims a blow
+At that sweet trust I had reposed in you.
+I was so certain I had found a true,
+Steadfast man friend, on whom I could depend,
+And go on wholly trusting to the end.
+Why did you shatter my delusion, Roy,
+By turning to a lover?"
+
+         "Why, indeed!
+Because I loved you more than any brother,
+Or any friend could love."  Then he began
+To argue like a lawyer, and to plead
+With all his eloquence.  And, listening,
+I strove to think it was a goodly thing
+To be so fondly loved by such a man,
+And it were best to give his wooing heed,
+And not deny him.  Then before my eyes,
+In all its clear-cut majesty, that other
+Haughty and poet-handsome face would rise
+And rob my purpose of all life and strength.
+
+Roy urged and argued, as Roy only could,
+With that impetuous, boyish eloquence.
+He held my hands, and vowed I must, and should
+Give some least hope; till, in my own defence,
+I turned upon him, and replied at length:
+"I thank you for the noble heart you offer:
+But it deserves a true one in exchange.
+I could love you if I loved not another
+Who keeps my heart; so I have none to proffer."
+
+Then, seeing how his dark eyes flashed, I said:
+"Dear Roy!  I know my words seem very strange;
+But I love one I cannot hope to wed.
+A river rolls between us, dark and deep.
+To cross it--were to stain with blood my hand.
+You force my speech on what I fain would keep
+In my own bosom, but you understand?
+My heart is given to love that's sanctified,
+And now can feel no other.
+
+         Be you kind,
+Dear Roy, my brother! speak of this no more,
+Lest pleading and denying should divide
+The hearts so long united.  Let me find
+In you my cousin and my friend of yore.
+And now come home.  The morning, all too soon
+And unperceived, has melted into noon.
+Helen will miss us, and we must return."
+
+He took my hand, and helped me to arise,
+Smiling upon me with his sad, dark eyes,
+Where passion's fires had, sudden, ceased to burn.
+
+"And so," he said, "too soon and unforeseen
+My friendship melted into love, Maurine.
+But, sweet!  I am not wholly in the blame
+For what you term my folly.  You forgot,
+So long we'd known each other, I had not
+In truth a brother's or a cousin's claim.
+But I remembered, when through every nerve
+Your lightest touch went thrilling; and began
+To love you with that human love of man
+For comely woman.  By your coaxing arts,
+You won your way into my heart of hearts,
+And all Platonic feelings put to rout.
+A maid should never lay aside reserve
+With one who's not her kinsman, out and out.
+But as we now, with measured steps, retrace
+The path we came, e'en so my heart I'll send,
+At your command, back to the olden place,
+And strive to love you only as a friend."
+I felt the justice of his mild reproof,
+But answered, laughing, "'Tis the same old cry:
+'The woman tempted me, and I did eat.'
+Since Adam's time we've heard it.  But I'll try
+And be more prudent, sir, and hold aloof
+The fruit I never once had thought so sweet
+'Twould tempt you any.  Now go dress for dinner,
+Thou sinned against! as also will the sinner.
+And guard each act, that no least look betray
+What's passed between us."
+
+         Then I turned away
+And sought my room, low humming some old air
+That ceased upon the threshold; for mine eyes
+Fell on a face so glorified and fair
+All other senses, merged in that of sight,
+Were lost in contemplation of the bright
+And wond'rous picture, which had otherwise
+Made dim my vision.
+
+         Waiting in my room,
+Her whole face lit as by an inward flame
+That shed its halo 'round her, Helen stood;
+Her fair hands folded like a lily's leaves
+Weighed down by happy dews of summer eves.
+Upon her cheek the colour went and came
+As sunlight flickers o'er a bed of bloom;
+And, like some slim young sapling of the wood,
+Her slender form leaned slightly; and her hair
+Fell 'round her loosely, in long curling strands
+All unconfined, and as by loving hands
+Tossed into bright confusion.
+
+         Standing there,
+Her starry eyes uplifted, she did seem
+Like some unearthly creature of a dream;
+Until she started forward, gliding slowly,
+And broke the breathless silence, speaking lowly,
+As one grown meek, and humble in an hour,
+Bowing before some new and mighty power.
+
+"Maurine, Maurine!" she murmured, and again,
+"Maurine, my own sweet friend, Maurine!"
+
+         And then,
+Laying her love-light hands upon my head,
+She leaned, and looked into my eyes, and said
+With voice that bore her joy in ev'ry tone,
+As winds that blow across a garden bed
+Are weighed with fragrance, "He is mine alone,
+And I am his--all his--his very own.
+So pledged this hour, by that most sacred tie
+Save one beneath God's over-arching sky.
+I could not wait to tell you of my bliss:
+I want your blessing, sweetheart! and your kiss."
+So hiding my heart's trouble with a smile,
+I leaned and kissed her dainty mouth; the while
+I felt a guilt-joy, as of some sweet sin,
+When my lips fell where his so late had been.
+And all day long I bore about with me
+A sense of shame--yet mixed with satisfaction,
+As some starved child might steal a loaf, and be
+Sad with the guilt resulting from her action,
+While yet the morsel in her mouth was sweet.
+That ev'ning when the house had settled down
+To sleep and quiet, to my room there crept
+A lithe young form, robed in a long white gown:
+With steps like fall of thistle-down she came,
+Her mouth smile-wreathed; and, breathing low my name,
+Nestled in graceful beauty at my feet.
+
+"Sweetheart," she murmured softly, "ere I sleep,
+I needs must tell you all my tale of joy.
+Beginning where you left us--you and Roy.
+You saw the colour flame upon my cheek
+When Vivian spoke of staying.  So did he; -
+And, when we were alone, he gazed at me
+With such a strange look in his wond'rous eyes.
+The silence deepened; and I tried to speak
+Upon some common topic, but could not,
+My heart was in such tumult.
+
+         In this wise
+Five happy moments glided by us, fraught
+With hours of feeling.  Vivian rose up then,
+And came and stood by me, and stroked my hair.
+And, in his low voice, o'er and o'er again,
+Said, 'Helen, little Helen, frail and fair.'
+Then took my face, and turned it to the light,
+And looking in my eyes, and seeing what
+Was shining from them, murmured, sweet and low,
+'Dear eyes, you cannot veil the truth from sight.
+You love me, Helen! answer, is it so?'
+And I made answer straightway, 'With my life
+And soul and strength I love you, O my love!'
+He leaned and took me gently to his breast,
+And said, 'Here then this dainty head shall rest
+Henceforth for ever:  O my little dove!
+My lily-bud--my fragile blossom-wife!'
+
+And then I told him all my thoughts; and he
+Listened, with kisses for his comments, till
+My tale was finished.  Then he said, 'I will
+Be frank with you, my darling, from the start,
+And hide no secret from you in my heart.
+I love you, Helen, but you are not first
+To rouse that love to being.  Ere we met
+I loved a woman madly--never dreaming
+She was not all in truth she was in seeming.
+Enough! she proved to be that thing accursed
+Of God and man--a wily vain coquette.
+I hate myself for having loved her.  Yet
+So much my heart spent on her, it must give
+A love less ardent, and less prodigal,
+Albeit just as tender and as true -
+A milder, yet a faithful love to you.
+Just as some evil fortune might befall
+A man's great riches, causing him to live
+In some low cot, all unpretending, still
+As much his home--as much his loved retreat,
+As was the princely palace on the hill,
+E'en so I give you all that's left, my sweet!
+Of my heart-fortune.'
+
+         'That were more to me,'
+I made swift smiling answer, 'than to be
+The worshipped consort of a king.'  And so
+Our faith was pledged.  But Vivian would not go
+Until I vowed to wed him New Year day.
+And I am sad because you go away
+Before that time.  I shall not feel half wed
+Without you here.  Postpone your trip and stay,
+And be my bridesmaid."
+
+         "Nay, I cannot, dear!
+'Twould disarrange our plans for half a year.
+I'll be in Europe New Year day," I said,
+"And send congratulations by the cable."
+And from my soul thanked Providence for sparing
+The pain, to me, of sharing in, and wearing,
+The festal garments of a wedding scene,
+While all my heart was hung with sorrow's sable.
+Forgetting for a season, that between
+The cup and lip lies many a chance of loss,
+I lived in my near future, confident
+All would be as I planned it; and, across
+The briny waste of waters, I should find
+Some balm and comfort for my troubled mind.
+The sad Fall days, like maidens auburn-tressed
+And amber-eyed, in purple garments dressed,
+Passed by, and dropped their tears upon the tomb
+Of fair Queen Summer, buried in her bloom.
+
+Roy left us for a time, and Helen went
+To make the nuptial preparations.  Then,
+Aunt Ruth complained one day of feeling ill:
+Her veins ran red with fever; and the skill
+Of two physicians could not stem the tide.
+The house, that rang so late with laugh and jest,
+Grew ghostly with low whispered sounds:  and when
+The Autumn day, that I had thought to be
+Bounding upon the billows of the sea,
+Came sobbing in, it found me pale and worn,
+Striving to keep away that unloved guest
+Who comes unbidden, making hearts to mourn.
+Through all the anxious weeks I watched beside
+The suff'rer's couch, Roy was my help and stay;
+Others were kind, but he alone each day
+Brought strength and comfort, by his cheerful face,
+And hopeful words, that fell in that sad place
+Like rays of light upon a darkened way.
+November passed; and Winter, crisp and chill,
+In robes of ermine walked on plain and hill.
+Returning light and life dispelled the gloom
+That cheated Death had brought us from the tomb.
+Aunt Ruth was saved, and slowly getting better -
+Was dressed each day, and walked about the room.
+Then came one morning in the Eastern mail,
+A little white-winged birdling of a letter.
+I broke the seal and read,
+
+         "Maurine, my own!
+I hear Aunt Ruth is better, and am glad.
+I felt so sorry for you; and so sad
+To think I left you when I did--alone
+To bear your pain and worry, and those nights
+Of weary, anxious watching.
+
+         Vivian writes
+Your plans are changed now, and you will not sail
+Before the Springtime.  So you'll come and be
+My bridesmaid, darling!  Do not say me nay.
+But three weeks more of girlhood left to me.
+Come, if you can, just two weeks from to-day,
+And make your preparations here.  My sweet!
+Indeed I am not glad Aunt Ruth was ill -
+I'm sorry she has suffered so; and still
+I'm thankful something happened, so you stayed.
+I'm sure my wedding would be incomplete
+Without your presence.  Selfish, I'm afraid
+You'll think your Helen.  But I love you so,
+How can I be quite willing you should go?
+Come Christmas Eve, or earlier.  Let me know,
+And I will meet you, dearie! at the train.
+Your happy, loving Helen."
+
+         Then the pain
+That, hidden under later pain and care,
+Had made no moan, but silent, seemed to sleep,
+Woke from its trance-like lethargy, to steep
+My tortured heart in anguish and despair.
+
+I had relied too fully on my skill
+In bending circumstances to my will:
+And now I was rebuked and made to see
+That God alone knoweth what is to be.
+Then came a messenger from Vivian, who
+Came not himself, as he was wont to do,
+But sent his servant each new day to bring
+A kindly message, or an offering
+Of juicy fruits to cool the lips of fever,
+Or dainty hot-house blossoms, with their bloom
+To brighten up the convalescent's room.
+But now the servant only brought a line
+From Vivian Dangerfield to Roy Montaine,
+"Dear Sir, and Friend"--in letters bold and plain,
+Written on cream-white paper, so it ran:
+"It is the will and pleasure of Miss Trevor,
+And therefore doubly so a wish of mine,
+That you shall honour me next New Year Eve,
+My wedding hour, by standing as best man.
+Miss Trevor has six bridesmaids I believe.
+Being myself a novice in the art -
+If I should fail in acting well my part,
+I'll need protection 'gainst the regiment
+Of outraged ladies.  So, I pray, consent
+To stand by me in time of need, and shield
+Your friend sincerely, Vivian Dangerfield."
+
+The last least hope had vanished; I must drain,
+E'en to the dregs, this bitter cup of pain.
+
+
+PART VI
+
+
+There was a week of bustle and of hurry;
+A stately home echoed to voices sweet,
+Calling, replying; and to tripping feet
+Of busy bridesmaids, running to and fro,
+With all that girlish fluttering and flurry
+Preceding such occasions.
+
+         Helen's room
+Was like a lily-garden, all in bloom,
+Decked with the dainty robes of her trousseau.
+My robe was fashioned by swift, skilful hands -
+A thing of beauty, elegant and rich,
+A mystery of loopings, puffs and bands;
+And as I watched it growing, stitch by stitch,
+I felt as one might feel who should behold
+With vision trance-like, where his body lay
+In deathly slumber, simulating clay,
+His grave-cloth sewed together, fold on fold.
+
+I lived with ev'ry nerve upon the strain,
+As men go into battle; and the pain,
+That, more and more, to my sad heart revealed
+Grew ghastly with its horrors, was concealed
+From mortal eyes by superhuman power,
+That God bestowed upon me, hour by hour.
+What night the Old Year gave unto the New
+The key of human happiness and woe,
+The pointed stars, upon their field of blue,
+Shone, white and perfect, o'er a world below,
+Of snow-clad beauty; all the trees were dressed
+In gleaming garments, decked with diadems,
+Each seeming like a bridal-bidden guest,
+Coming o'erladen with a gift of gems.
+The bustle of the dressing-room; the sound
+Of eager voices in discourse; the clang
+Of "sweet bells jangled"; thud of steel-clad feet
+That beat swift music on the frozen ground -
+All blent together in my brain, and rang
+A medley of strange noises, incomplete,
+And full of discords.
+
+         Then out on the night
+Streamed from the open vestibule, a light
+That lit the velvet blossoms which we trod,
+With all the hues of those that deck the sod.
+The grand cathedral windows were ablaze
+With gorgeous colours; through a sea of bloom,
+Up the long aisle, to join the waiting groom,
+The bridal cortege passed.
+
+         As some lost soul
+Might surge on with the curious crowd, to gaze
+Upon its coffined body, so I went
+With that glad festal throng.  The organ sent
+Great waves of melody along the air,
+That broke and fell, in liquid drops, like spray,
+On happy hearts that listened.  But to me
+It sounded faintly, as if miles away,
+A troubled spirit, sitting in despair
+Beside the sad and ever-moaning sea,
+Gave utterance to sighing sounds of dole.
+We paused before the altar.  Framed in flowers,
+The white-robed man of God stood forth.
+
+         I heard
+The solemn service open; through long hours
+I seemed to stand and listen, while each word
+Fell on my ear as falls the sound of clay
+Upon the coffin of the worshipped dead.
+The stately father gave the bride away:
+The bridegroom circled with a golden band
+The taper finger of her dainty hand.
+The last imposing, binding words were said -
+"What God has joined let no man put asunder" -
+And all my strife with self was at an end;
+My lover was the husband of my friend.
+
+How strangely, in some awful hour of pain,
+External trifles with our sorrows blend!
+I never hear the mighty organ's thunder,
+I never catch the scent of heliotrope,
+Nor see stained windows all ablaze with light,
+Without that dizzy whirling of the brain,
+And all the ghastly feeling of that night,
+When my sick heart relinquished love and hope.
+
+The pain we feel so keenly may depart,
+And e'en its memory cease to haunt the heart:
+But some slight thing, a perfume, or a sound
+Will probe the closed recesses of the wound,
+And for a moment bring the old-time smart.
+
+Congratulations, kisses, tears and smiles,
+Good-byes and farewells given; then across
+The snowy waste of weary wintry miles,
+Back to my girlhoods' home, where, through each room,
+For evermore pale phantoms of delight
+Should aimless wander, always in my sight,
+Pointing, with ghostly fingers, to the tomb
+Wet with the tears of living pain and loss.
+
+The sleepless nights of watching and of care,
+Followed by that one week of keenest pain,
+Taxing my weakened system, and my brain,
+Brought on a ling'ring illness.
+
+         Day by day,
+In that strange, apathetic state I lay,
+Of mental and of physical despair.
+I had no pain, no fever, and no chill,
+But lay without ambition, strength, or will.
+Knowing no wish for anything but rest,
+Which seemed, of all God's store of gifts, the best.
+
+Physicians came and shook their heads and sighed;
+And to their score of questions I replied,
+With but one languid answer, o'er and o'er,
+"I am so weary--weary--nothing more."
+
+I slept, and dreamed I was some feathered thing,
+Flying through space with ever-aching wing,
+Seeking a ship called Rest all snowy white,
+That sailed and sailed before me, just in sight,
+But always one unchanging distance kept,
+And woke more weary than before I slept.
+
+I slept, and dreamed I ran to win a prize,
+A hand from heaven held down before my eyes.
+All eagerness I sought it--it was gone,
+But shone in all its beauty farther on.
+I ran, and ran, and ran, in eager quest
+Of that great prize, whereon was written "Rest,"
+Which ever just beyond my reach did gleam,
+And wakened doubly weary with my dream.
+
+I dreamed I was a crystal drop of rain,
+That saw a snow-white lily on the plain,
+And left the cloud to nestle in her breast.
+I fell and fell, but nevermore found rest -
+I fell and fell, but found no stopping place,
+Through leagues and leagues of never-ending space,
+While space illimitable stretched before.
+
+And all these dreams but wearied me the more.
+
+Familiar voices sounded in my room -
+Aunt Ruth's, and Roy's, and Helen's:  but they seemed
+A part of some strange fancy I had dreamed,
+And now remembered dimly.
+
+         Wrapped in gloom,
+My mind, o'ertaxed, lost hold of time at last,
+Ignored its future, and forgot its past,
+And groped along the present, as a light,
+Carried, uncovered, through the fogs of night,
+Will flicker faintly.
+
+         But I felt, at length,
+When March winds brought vague rumours of the spring,
+A certain sense of "restlessness with rest."
+My aching frame was weary of repose,
+And wanted action.
+
+         Then slow-creeping strength
+Came back with Mem'ry, hand in hand, to bring
+And lay upon my sore and bleeding breast,
+Grim-visaged Recollection's thorny rose.
+I gained, and failed.  One day could ride and walk,
+The next would find me prostrate:  while a flock
+Of ghostly thoughts, like phantom birds, would flit
+About the chambers of my heart, or sit,
+Pale spectres of the past, with folded wings,
+Perched, silently, upon the voiceless strings,
+That once resounded to Hope's happy lays.
+
+So passed the ever-changing April days.
+When May came, lightsome footed, o'er the lea,
+Accompanied by kind Aunt Ruth and Roy,
+I bade farewell to home with secret joy,
+And turned my wan face eastward to the sea.
+Roy planned our route of travel:  for all lands
+Were one to him.  Or Egypt's burning sands,
+Or Alps of Switzerland, or stately Rome,
+All were familiar as the fields of home.
+
+There was a year of wand'ring to and fro,
+Like restless spirits; scaling mountain heights;
+Dwelling among the countless, rare delights
+Of lands historic; turning dusty pages,
+Stamped with the tragedies of mighty ages
+Gazing upon the scenes of bloody acts,
+Of kings long buried--bare, unvarnished facts,
+Surpassing wildest fictions of the brain;
+Rubbing against all people, high and low,
+And by this contact feeling Self to grow
+Smaller and less important, and the vein
+Of human kindness deeper, seeing God,
+Unto the humble delver of the sod,
+And to the ruling monarch on the throne,
+Has given hope, ambition, joy, and pain,
+And that all hearts have feelings like our own.
+
+There is no school that disciplines the mind,
+And broadens thought, like contact with mankind.
+The college-prisoned graybeard, who has burned
+The midnight lamp, and book-bound knowledge learned,
+Till sciences or classics hold no lore
+He has not conned and studied, o'er and o'er,
+Is but a babe in wisdom, when compared
+With some unlettered wand'rer, who has shared
+The hospitalities of every land;
+Felt touch of brother in each proffered hand;
+Made man his study, and the world his college,
+And gained this grand epitome of knowledge:
+Each human being has a heart and soul,
+And self is but an atom of the whole.
+I hold he is best learned and most wise
+Who best and most can love and sympathize.
+Book-wisdom makes us vain and self-contained;
+Our banded minds go round in little grooves;
+But constant friction with the world removes
+These iron foes to freedom, and we rise
+To grander heights, and, all untrammelled, find
+A better atmosphere and clearer skies;
+And through its broadened realm, no longer chained,
+Thought travels freely, leaving Self behind.
+Where'er we chanced to wander or to roam,
+Glad letters came from Helen; happy things,
+Like little birds that followed on swift wings,
+Bringing their tender messages from home.
+Her days were poems, beautiful, complete.
+The rhythm perfect, and the burden sweet.
+She was so happy--happy, and so blest.
+
+My heart had found contentment in that year.
+With health restored, my life seemed full of cheer
+The heart of youth turns ever to the light;
+Sorrow and gloom may curtain it like night,
+But, in its very anguish and unrest,
+It beats and tears the pall-like folds away,
+And finds again the sunlight of the day.
+
+And yet, despite the changes without measure,
+Despite sight-seeing, round on round of pleasure;
+Despite new friends, new suitors, still my heart
+Was conscious of a something lacking, where
+Love once had dwelt, and afterward despair.
+Now love was buried; and despair had flown
+Before the healthful zephyrs that had blown
+From heights serene and lofty; and the place
+Where both had dwelt was empty, voiceless space.
+And so I took my long-loved study, art,
+The dreary vacuum in my life to fill,
+And worked, and laboured, with a right good will.
+Aunt Ruth and I took rooms in Rome; while Roy
+Lingered in Scotland, with his new-found joy.
+A dainty little lassie, Grace Kildare,
+Had snared him in her flossy, flaxen hair,
+And made him captive.
+
+         We were thrown, by chance,
+In contact with her people while in France
+The previous season:  she was wholly sweet
+And fair and gentle; so naive, and yet
+So womanly, she was at once the pet
+Of all our party; and, ere many days,
+Won by her fresh face, and her artless ways,
+Roy fell a helpless captive at her feet.
+Her home was in the Highlands; and she came
+Of good old stock, of fair untarnished fame.
+
+Through all these months Roy had been true as steel;
+And by his every action made me feel
+He was my friend and brother, and no more,
+The same big-souled and trusty friend of yore.
+Yet, in my secret heart, I wished I knew
+Whether the love he felt one time was dead,
+Or only hidden, for my sake, from view.
+So when he came to me one day, and said,
+The velvet blackness of his eyes ashine
+With light of love and triumph:  "Cousin, mine,
+Congratulate me!  She whom I adore
+Has pledged to me the promise of her hand;
+Her heart I have already," I was glad
+With double gladness, for it freed my mind
+Of fear that he, in secret, might be sad.
+
+From March till June had left her moons behind,
+And merged her rose-red beauty in July,
+There was no message from my native land.
+Then came a few brief lines, by Vivian penned:
+Death had been near to Helen, but passed by;
+The danger was now over.  God was kind;
+The mother and the child were both alive;
+No other child was ever known to thrive
+As throve this one, nurse had been heard to say.
+The infant was a wonder, every way.
+And, at command of Helen, he would send
+A lock of baby's golden hair to me.
+And did I, on my honour, ever see
+Such hair before?  Helen would write, ere long:
+She gained quite slowly, but would soon be strong -
+Stronger than ever, so the doctors said.
+I took the tiny ringlet, golden--fair,
+Mayhap his hand had severed from the head
+Of his own child, and pressed it to my cheek
+And to my lips, and kissed it o'er and o'er.
+All my maternal instincts seemed to rise,
+And clamour for their rights, while my wet eyes
+Rained tears upon the silken tress of hair.
+The woman struggled with her heart before!
+It was the mother in me now did speak,
+Moaning, like Rachel, that her babes were not,
+And crying out against her barren lot.
+
+Once I bemoaned the long and lonely years
+That stretched before me, dark with love's eclipse;
+And thought how my unmated heart would miss
+The shelter of a broad and manly breast -
+The strong, bold arm--the tender clinging kiss -
+And all pure love's possessions, manifold;
+But now I wept a flood of bitter tears,
+Thinking of little heads of shining gold,
+That would not on my bosom sink to rest;
+Of little hands that would not touch my cheek;
+Of little lisping voices, and sweet lips,
+That never in my list'ning ear would speak
+The blessed name of mother.
+
+         Oh, in woman
+How mighty is the love of offspring!  Ere
+Unto her wond'ring, untaught mind unfolds
+The myst'ry that is half divine, half human,
+Of life and birth, the love of unborn souls
+Within her, and the mother-yearning creeps
+Through her warm heart, and stirs its hidden deeps,
+And grows and strengthens with each riper year.
+
+As storms may gather in a placid sky,
+And spend their fury, and then pass away,
+Leaving again the blue of cloudless day,
+E'en so the tempest of my grief passed by.
+'Twas weak to mourn for what I had resigned,
+With the deliberate purpose of my mind,
+To my sweet friend.
+
+         Relinquishing my love,
+I gave my dearest hope of joy to her.
+If God, from out His boundless store above,
+Had chosen added blessings to confer,
+I would rejoice, for her sake--not repine
+That th' immortal treasures were not mine.
+
+Better my lonely sorrow, than to know
+My selfish joy had been another's woe;
+Better my grief and my strength to control,
+Than the despair of her frail-bodied soul;
+Better to go on, loveless, to the end,
+Than wear love's rose, whose thorn had slain my friend.
+
+Work is the salve that heals the wounded heart.
+With will most resolute I set my aim
+To enter on the weary race for Fame,
+And if I failed to climb the dizzy height,
+To reach some point of excellence in art.
+
+E'en as the Maker held earth incomplete,
+Till man was formed, and placed upon the sod,
+The perfect, living image of his God,
+All landscape scenes were lacking in my sight,
+Wherein the human figure had no part.
+In that, all lines of symmetry did meet -
+All hues of beauty mingle.  So I brought
+Enthusiasm in abundance, thought,
+Much study, and some talent, day by day,
+To help me in my efforts to portray
+The wond'rous power, majesty and grace
+Stamped on some form, or looking from some face.
+This was to be my specialty:  To take
+Human emotion for my theme, and make
+The unassisted form divine express
+Anger or Sorrow, Pleasure, Pain, Distress;
+And thus to build Fame's monument above
+The grave of my departed hope and love.
+This is not Genius.  Genius spreads its wings
+And soars beyond itself, or selfish things.
+Talent has need of stepping-stones:  some cross,
+Some cheated purpose, some great pain or loss,
+Must lay the groundwork, and arouse ambition,
+Before it labours onward to fruition.
+
+But, as the lark from beds of bloom will rise
+And sail and sing among the very skies,
+Still mounting near and nearer to the light,
+Impelled wings, to heights sublime.
+Impelled alone by love of upward flight,
+So Genius soars--it does not need to climb -
+Some sportman's shot, grazing the singer's throat,
+Some venomous assault of birds of prey,
+May speed its flight toward the realm of day,
+And tinge with triumph every liquid note.
+So deathless Genius mounts but higher yet,
+When Strife and Envy think to slay or fret.
+
+There is no balking Genius.  Only death
+Can silence it, or hinder.  While there's breath
+Or sense of feeling, it will spurn the sod,
+And lift itself to glory, and to God.
+The acorn sprouted--weeds nor flowers can choke
+The certain growth of th' upreaching oak.
+
+Talent was mine, not Genius; and my mind
+Seemed bound by chains, and would not leave behind
+Its selfish love and sorrow.
+
+         Did I strive
+To picture some emotion, lo! HIS eyes,
+Of emerald beauty, dark as ocean dyes,
+Looked from the canvas:  and my buried pain
+Rose from its grave, and stood by me alive.
+Whate'er my subject, in some hue or line,
+The glorious beauty of his face would shine.
+
+So for a time my labour seemed in vain,
+Since it but freshened, and made keener yet,
+The grief my heart was striving to forget.
+While in his form all strength and magnitude
+With grace and supple sinews were entwined,
+While in his face all beauties were combined
+Of perfect features, intellect and truth,
+With all that fine rich colouring of youth,
+How could my brush portray aught good or fair
+Wherein no fatal likeness should intrude
+Of him my soul had worshipped?
+
+         But, at last,
+Setting a watch upon my unwise heart,
+That thus would mix its sorrow with my art,
+I resolutely shut away the past,
+And made the toilsome present passing bright
+With dreams of what was hidden from my sight
+In the far distant future, when the soil
+Should yield me golden fruit for all my toil.
+
+
+PART VII
+
+
+With much hard labour and some pleasure fraught,
+The months rolled by me noiselessly, that taught
+My hand to grow more skilful in its art,
+Strengthened my daring dream of fame, and brought
+Sweet hope and resignation to my heart.
+
+Brief letters came from Helen, now and then:
+She was quite well--oh yes! quite well, indeed!
+But still so weak and nervous.  By-and-by,
+When baby, being older, should not need
+Such constant care, she would grow strong again.
+She was as happy as a soul could be;
+No least cloud hovered in her azure sky;
+She had not thought life held such depths of bliss.
+Dear baby sent Maurine a loving kiss,
+And said she was a naughty, naughty girl,
+Not to come home and see ma's little pearl.
+No gift of costly jewels, or of gold,
+Had been so precious or so dear to me,
+As each brief line wherein her joy was told.
+It lightened toil, and took the edge from pain,
+Knowing my sacrifice was not in vain.
+
+Roy purchased fine estates in Scotland, where
+He built a pretty villa-like retreat.
+And when the Roman Summer's languid heat
+Made work a punishment, I turned my face
+Toward the Highlands, and with Roy and Grace
+Found rest and freedom from all thought and care.
+
+I was a willing worker.  Not an hour
+Passed idly by me:  each, I would employ
+To some good purpose, ere it glided on
+To swell the tide of hours forever gone.
+My first completed picture, known as "Joy,"
+Won pleasant words of praise.  "Possesses power,"
+"Displays much talent," "Very fairly done."
+So fell the comments on my grateful ear.
+
+Swift in the wake of Joy, and always near,
+Walks her sad sister Sorrow.  So my brush
+Began depicting Sorrow, heavy-eyed,
+With pallid visage, ere the rosy flush
+Upon the beaming face of Joy had dried.
+The careful study of long months, it won
+Golden opinions; even bringing forth
+That certain sign of merit--a critique
+Which set both pieces down as daubs, and weak
+As empty heads that sang their praises--so
+Proving conclusively the pictures' worth.
+These critics and reviewers do not use
+Their precious ammunition to abuse
+A worthless work.  That, left alone, they know
+Will find its proper level; and they aim
+Their batteries at rising works which claim
+Too much of public notice.  But this shot
+Resulted only in some noise, which brought
+A dozen people, where one came before,
+To view my pictures; and I had my hour
+Of holding those frail baubles, Fame and Pow'r.
+An English Baron who had lived two score
+Of his allotted three score years and ten
+Bought both the pieces.  He was very kind,
+And so attentive, I, not being blind,
+Must understand his meaning.
+
+         Therefore, when
+He said,
+      "Sweet friend, whom I would make my wife,
+The 'Joy' and 'Sorrow' this dear hand portrayed
+I have in my possession:  now resign
+Into my careful keeping, and make mine,
+The joy and sorrow of your future life," -
+I was prepared to answer, but delayed,
+Grown undecided suddenly.
+
+      My mind
+Argued the matter coolly pro and con,
+And made resolve to speed his wooing on
+And grant him favour.  He was good and kind;
+Not young, no doubt he would be quite content
+With my respect, nor miss an ardent love;
+Could give me ties of family and home;
+And then, perhaps, my mind was not above
+Setting some value on a titled name -
+Ambitious woman's weakness!
+
+      Then my art
+Would be encouraged and pursued the same,
+And I could spend my winters all in Rome.
+Love never more could touch my wasteful heart
+That all its wealth upon one object spent.
+Existence would be very bleak and cold,
+After long years, when I was gray and old,
+With neither home nor children.
+
+      Once a wife,
+I would forget the sorrow of my life,
+And pile new sods upon the grave of pain.
+My mind so argued; and my sad heart heard,
+But made no comment.
+
+      Then the Baron spoke,
+And waited for my answer.  All in vain
+I strove for strength to utter that one word
+My mind dictated.  Moments rolled away -
+Until at last my torpid heart awoke,
+And forced my trembling lips to say him nay.
+And then my eyes with sudden tears o'erran,
+In pity for myself and for this man
+Who stood before me, lost in pained surprise.
+"Dear friend," I cried, "dear generous friend, forgive
+A troubled woman's weakness!  As I live,
+In truth I meant to answer otherwise.
+From out its store, my heart can give you naught
+But honour and respect; and yet methought
+I would give willing answer, did you sue.
+But now I know 'twere cruel wrong I planned -
+Taking a heart that beat with love most true,
+And giving in exchange an empty hand.
+Who weds for love alone, may not be wise:
+Who weds without it, angels must despise.
+Love and respect together must combine
+To render marriage holy and divine;
+And lack of either, sure as Fate, destroys
+Continuation of the nuptial joys,
+And brings regret, and gloomy discontent
+To put to rout each tender sentiment.
+Nay, nay!  I will not burden all your life
+By that possession--an unloving wife;
+Nor will I take the sin upon my soul
+Of wedding where my heart goes not in whole.
+However bleak may be my single lot,
+I will not stain my life with such a blot.
+Dear friend, farewell! the earth is very wide;
+It holds some fairer woman for your bride;
+I would I had a heart to give to you,
+But, lacking it, can only say--adieu!"
+
+He whom temptation never has assailed,
+Knows not that subtle sense of moral strength;
+When sorely tried, we waver, but at length,
+Rise up and turn away, not having failed.
+
+* * *
+
+The Autumn of the third year came and went;
+The mild Italian winter was half spent,
+When this brief message came across the sea:
+"My darling!  I am dying.  Come to me.
+Love, which so long the growing truth concealed,
+Stands pale within its shadow.  Oh, my sweet!
+This heart of mine grows fainter with each beat -
+Dying with very weight of bliss.  Oh, come!
+And take the legacy I leave to you,
+Before these lips for evermore are dumb.
+In life or death,--Yours, Helen Dangerfield."
+This plaintive letter bore a month old date;
+And, wild with fears lest I had come too late,
+I bade the old world and new friends adieu,
+And with Aunt Ruth, who long had sighed for home,
+I turned my back on glory, art, and Rome.
+
+All selfish thoughts were merged in one wild fear
+That she for whose dear sake my heart had bled,
+Rather than her sweet eyes should know one tear,
+Was passing from me; that she might be dead;
+And, dying, had been sorely grieved with me,
+Because I made no answer to her plea.
+
+"O, ship, that sailest slowly, slowly on,
+Make haste before a wasting life is gone!
+Make haste that I may catch a fleeting breath!
+And true in life, be true e'en unto death.
+
+"O, ship, sail on! and bear me o'er the tide
+To her for whom my woman's heart once died.
+Sail, sail, O, ship! for she hath need of me,
+And I would know what her last wish may be!
+I have been true, so true, through all the past.
+Sail, sail, O, ship!  I would not fail at last."
+
+So prayed my heart still o'er, and ever o'er,
+Until the weary lagging ship reached shore.
+All sad with fears that I had come too late,
+By that strange source whence men communicate,
+Though miles on miles of space between them lie,
+I spoke with Vivian:  "Does she live?  Reply."
+The answer came.  "She lives, but hasten, friend!
+Her journey draweth swiftly to its end."
+
+Ah me! ah me! when each remembered spot,
+My own dear home, the lane that led to his -
+The fields, the woods, the lake, burst on my sight,
+Oh! then, Self rose up in asserting might;
+Oh, then, my bursting heart all else forgot,
+But those sweet early years of lost delight,
+Of hope, defeat, of anguish and of bliss.
+
+I have a theory, vague, undefined,
+That each emotion of the human mind,
+Love, pain or passion, sorrow or despair,
+Is a live spirit, dwelling in the air,
+Until it takes possession of some breast;
+And, when at length, grown weary of unrest,
+We rise up strong and cast it from the heart,
+And bid it leave us wholly, and depart,
+It does not die, it cannot die; but goes
+And mingles with some restless wind that blows
+About the region where it had its birth.
+And though we wander over all the earth,
+That spirit waits, and lingers, year by year,
+Invisible and clothed like the air,
+Hoping that we may yet again draw near,
+And it may haply take us unaware,
+And once more find safe shelter in the breast
+It stirred of old with pleasure or unrest.
+
+Told by my heart, and wholly positive,
+Some old emotion long had ceased to live;
+That, were it called, it could not hear or come,
+Because it was so voiceless and so dumb,
+Yet, passing where it first sprang into life,
+My very soul has suddenly been rife
+With all the old intensity of feeling.
+It seemed a living spirit, which came stealing
+Into my heart from that departed day;
+Exiled emotion, which I fancied clay.
+
+So now into my troubled heart, above
+The present's pain and sorrow, crept the love
+And strife and passion of a bygone hour,
+Possessed of all their olden might and power.
+'Twas but a moment, and the spell was broken
+By pleasant words of greeting, gently spoken,
+And Vivian stood before us.
+
+         But I saw
+In him the husband of my friend alone.
+The old emotions might at times return,
+And smould'ring fires leap up an hour and burn;
+But never yet had I transgressed God's law,
+By looking on the man I had resigned,
+With any hidden feeling in my mind,
+Which she, his wife, my friend, might not have known
+He was but little altered.  From his face
+The nonchalant and almost haughty grace,
+The lurking laughter waiting in his eyes,
+The years had stolen, leaving in their place
+A settled sadness, which was not despair,
+Nor was it gloom, nor weariness, nor care,
+But something like the vapour o'er the skies
+Of Indian summer, beautiful to see,
+But spoke of frosts, which had been and would be.
+There was that in his face which cometh not,
+Save when the soul has many a battle fought,
+And conquered self by constant sacrifice.
+
+There are two sculptors, who, with chisels fine,
+Render the plainest features half divine.
+All other artists strive and strive in vain,
+To picture beauty perfect and complete.
+Their statues only crumble at their feet,
+Without the master touch of Faith and Pain.
+And now his face, that perfect seemed before,
+Chiselled by these two careful artists, wore
+A look exalted, which the spirit gives
+When soul has conquered, and the body lives
+Subservient to its bidding.
+
+         In a room
+Which curtained out the February gloom,
+And, redolent with perfume, bright with flowers,
+Rested the eye like one of Summer's bowers,
+I found my Helen, who was less mine now
+Than Death's; for on the marble of her brow
+His seal was stamped indelibly.
+
+         Her form
+Was like the slender willow, when some storm
+Has stripped it bare of foliage.  Her face,
+Pale always, now was ghastly in its hue:
+And, like two lamps, in some dark, hollow place,
+Burned her large eyes, grown more intensely blue.
+Her fragile hands displayed each cord and vein,
+And on her mouth was that drawn look, of pain
+Which is not uttered.  Yet an inward light
+Shone through and made her wasted features bright
+With an unearthly beauty; and an awe
+Crept o'er me, gazing on her, for I saw
+She was so near to Heaven that I seemed
+To look upon the face of one redeemed.
+She turned the brilliant lustre of her eyes
+Upon me.  She had passed beyond surprise,
+Or any strong emotion linked with clay.
+But as I glided to her where she lay,
+A smile, celestial in its sweetness, wreathed
+Her pallid features.  "Welcome home!" she breathed
+"Dear hands! dear lips!  I touch you and rejoice."
+And like the dying echo of a voice
+Were her faint tones that thrilled upon my ear.
+
+I fell upon my knees beside her bed;
+All agonies within my heart were wed,
+While to the aching numbness of my grief,
+Mine eyes refused the solace of a tear, -
+The tortured soul's most merciful relief.
+Her wasted hand caressed my bended head
+For one sad, sacred moment.  Then she said,
+In that low tone so like the wind's refrain,
+"Maurine, my own! give not away to pain;
+The time is precious.  Ere another dawn
+My soul may hear the summons and pass on.
+Arise, sweet sister! rest a little while,
+And when refreshed, come hither.  I grow weak
+With every hour that passes.  I must speak
+And make my dying wishes known to-night.
+Go now."  And in the halo of her smile,
+Which seemed to fill the room with golden light,
+I turned and left her.
+
+         Later, in the gloom
+Of coming night, I entered that dim room,
+And sat down by her.  Vivian held her hand:
+And on the pillow at her side there smiled
+The beauteous count'nance of a sleeping child.
+
+"Maurine," spoke Helen, "for three blissful years,
+My heart has dwelt in an enchanted land;
+And I have drank the sweetened cup of joy,
+Without one drop of anguish or alloy.
+And so, ere Pain embitters it with gall,
+Or sad-eyed Sorrow fills it full of tears,
+And bids me quaff, which is the Fate of all
+Who linger long upon this troubled way,
+God takes me to the realm of Endless Day,
+To mingle with His angels, who alone
+Can understand such bliss as I have known.
+I do not murmur.  God has heaped my measure,
+In three short years, full to the brim with pleasure;
+And, from the fulness of an earthly love,
+I pass to th' Immortal Arms above,
+Before I even brush the skirts of Woe.
+
+"I leave my aged parents here below,
+With none to comfort them.  Maurine, sweet friend!
+Be kind to them, and love them to the end,
+Which may not be far distant.
+
+         And I leave
+A soul immortal in your charge, Maurine.
+From this most holy, sad and sacred eve,
+Till God shall claim her, she is yours to keep,
+To love and shelter, to protect and guide."
+She touched the slumb'ring cherub at her side,
+And Vivian gently bore her, still asleep,
+And laid the precious burden on my breast.
+
+A solemn silence fell upon the scene.
+And when the sleeping infant smiled, and pressed
+My yielding bosom with her waxen cheek,
+I felt it would be sacrilege to speak,
+Such wordless joy possessed me.
+
+         Oh! at last
+This infant, who, in that tear-blotted past,
+Had caused my soul such travail, was my own:
+Through all the lonely coming years to be
+Mine own to cherish--wholly mine alone.
+And what I mourned so hopelessly as lost
+Was now restored, and given back to me.
+
+The dying voice continued:
+         "In this child
+You yet have me, whose mortal life she cost.
+But all that was most pure and undefiled,
+And good within me, lives in her again.
+Maurine, my husband loves me; yet I know,
+Moving about the wide world, to and fro,
+And through, and in the busy haunts of men,
+Not always will his heart be dumb with woe,
+But sometime waken to a later love.
+Nay, Vivian, hush! my soul has passed above
+All selfish feelings!  I would have it so.
+While I am with the angels, blest and glad,
+I would not have you sorrowing and sad,
+In loneliness go mourning to the end.
+But, love!  I could not trust to any other
+The sacred office of a foster-mother
+To this sweet cherub, save my own heart-friend.
+
+"Teach her to love her father's name, Maurine,
+Where'er he wanders.  Keep my memory green
+In her young heart, and lead her in her youth,
+To drink from th' eternal fount of Truth;
+Vex her not with sectarian discourse,
+Nor strive to teach her piety by force;
+Ply not her mind with harsh and narrow creeds,
+Nor frighten her with an avenging God,
+Who rules His subjects with a burning rod;
+But teach her that each mortal simply needs
+To grow in hate of hate and love of love,
+To gain a kingdom in the courts above.
+"Let her be free and natural as the flowers,
+That smile and nod throughout the summer hours.
+Let her rejoice in all the joys of youth,
+But first impress upon her mind this truth:
+No lasting happiness is e'er attained
+Save when the heart some OTHER seeks to please.
+The cup of selfish pleasures soon is drained,
+And full of gall and bitterness the lees.
+Next to her God, teach her to love her land;
+In her young bosom light the patriot's flame
+Until the heart within her shall expand
+With love and fervour at her country's name.
+
+"No coward-mother bears a valiant son.
+And this, my last wish, is an earnest one.
+
+"Maurine, my o'er-taxed strength is waning; you
+Have heard my wishes, and you will be true
+In death as you have been in life, my own!
+Now leave me for a little while alone
+With him--my husband.  Dear love!  I shall rest
+So sweetly with no care upon my breast.
+Good-night, Maurine, come to me in the morning."
+
+But lo! the Bridegroom with no further warning
+Came for her at the dawning of the day.
+She heard His voice, and smiled, and passed away
+Without a struggle.
+
+         Leaning o'er her bed
+To give her greeting, I found but her clay,
+And Vivian bowed beside it.
+
+         And I said,
+"Dear friend! my soul shall treasure thy request,
+And when the night of fever and unrest
+Melts in the morning of Eternity,
+Like a freed bird, then I will come to thee.
+
+"I will come to thee in the morning, sweet!
+I have been true; and soul with soul shall meet
+Before God's throne, and shall not be afraid.
+Thou gav'st me trust, and it was not betrayed.
+
+"I will come to thee in the morning, dear!
+The night is dark.  I do not know how near
+The morn may be of that Eternal Day;
+I can but keep my faithful watch and pray.
+
+"I will come to thee in the morning, love!
+Wait for me on the Eternal Heights above.
+The way is troubled where my feet must climb,
+Ere I shall tread the mountain-top sublime.
+
+"I will come in the morning, O mine own;
+But for a time must grope my way alone,
+Through tears and sorrow, till the Day shall dawn,
+And I shall hear the summons, and pass on.
+
+"I will come in the morning.  Rest secure!
+My hope is certain and my faith is sure.
+After the gloom and darkness of the night
+I will come to thee with the morning light."
+
+* * *
+
+Three peaceful years slipped silently away.
+
+We dwelt together in my childhood's home,
+Aunt Ruth and I, and sunny-hearted May.
+She was a fair and most exquisite child;
+Her pensive face was delicate and mild
+Like her dead mother's; but through her dear eyes
+Her father smiled upon me, day by day.
+Afar in foreign countries did he roam,
+Now resting under Italy's blue skies,
+And now with Roy in Scotland.
+
+         And he sent
+Brief, friendly letters, telling where he went
+And what he saw, addressed to May or me.
+And I would write and tell him how she grew -
+And how she talked about him o'er the sea
+In her sweet baby fashion; how she knew
+His picture in the album; how each day
+She knelt and prayed the blessed Lord would bring
+Her own papa back to his little May.
+It was a warm bright morning in the Spring.
+I sat in that same sunny portico,
+Where I was sitting seven years ago
+When Vivian came.  My eyes were full of tears,
+As I looked back across the checkered years.
+How many were the changes they had brought!
+Pain, death, and sorrow! but the lesson taught
+To my young heart had been of untold worth.
+I had learned how to "suffer and grow strong" -
+That knowledge which best serves us here on earth,
+And brings reward in Heaven.
+
+         Oh! how long
+The years had been since that June morning when
+I heard his step upon the walk, and yet
+I seemed to hear its echo still.
+
+         Just then
+Down that same path I turned my eyes, tear-wet,
+And lo! the wanderer from a foreign land
+Stood there before me!--holding out his hand
+And smiling with those wond'rous eyes of old.
+
+To hide my tears, I ran and brought his child;
+But she was shy, and clung to me, when told
+This was papa, for whom her prayers were said.
+She dropped her eyes and shook her little head,
+And would not by his coaxing be beguiled,
+Or go to him.
+
+         Aunt Ruth was not at home,
+And we two sat and talked, as strangers might,
+Of distant countries which we both had seen.
+But once I thought I saw his large eyes light
+With sudden passion, when there came a pause
+In our chit-chat, and then he spoke:
+
+         "Maurine,
+I saw a number of your friends in Rome.
+We talked of you.  They seemed surprised, because
+You were not 'mong the seekers for a name.
+They thought your whole ambition was for fame."
+
+"It might have been," I answered, "when my heart
+Had nothing else to fill it.  Now my art
+Is but a recreation.  I have THIS
+To love and live for, which I had not then."
+And, leaning down, I pressed a tender kiss
+Upon my child's fair brow.
+
+         "And yet," he said,
+The old light leaping to his eyes again,
+"And yet, Maurine, they say you might have wed
+A noble Baron! one of many men
+Who laid their hearts and fortunes at your feet.
+Why won the bravest of them no return?"
+I bowed my head, nor dared his gaze to meet.
+On cheek and brow I felt the red blood burn,
+And strong emotion strangled speech.
+
+         He rose
+And came and knelt beside me.
+
+         "Sweet, my sweet!"
+He murmured softly, "God in Heaven knows
+How well I loved you seven years ago.
+He only knows my anguish, and my grief,
+When your own acts forced on me the belief
+That I had been your plaything and your toy.
+Yet from his lips I since have learned that Roy
+Held no place nearer than a friend and brother.
+And then a faint suspicion, undefined,
+Of what had been--was--might be, stirred my mind,
+And that great love, I thought died at a blow,
+Rose up within me, strong with hope and life.
+
+"Before all heaven and the angel mother
+Of this sweet child that slumbers on your heart,
+Maurine, Maurine, I claim you for my wife -
+Mine own, forever, until death shall part!"
+
+Through happy mists of upward welling tears,
+I leaned, and looked into his beauteous eyes.
+"Dear heart," I said, "if she who dwells above
+Looks down upon us, from yon azure skies,
+She can but bless us, knowing all these years
+My soul had yearned in silence for the love
+That crowned her life, and left mine own so bleak.
+I turned you from me for her fair, frail sake.
+For her sweet child's, and for my own, I take
+You back to be all mine, for evermore."
+
+Just then the child upon my breast awoke
+From her light sleep, and laid her downy cheek
+Against her father as he knelt by me.
+And this unconscious action seemed to be
+A silent blessing, which the mother spoke
+Gazing upon us from the mystic shore.
+
+
+
+ALL ROADS THAT LEAD TO GOD ARE GOOD
+
+
+
+All roads that lead to God are good.
+   What matters it, your faith, or mine?
+   Both centre at the goal divine
+Of love's eternal Brotherhood.
+
+The kindly life in house or street -
+   The life of prayer and mystic rite -
+   The student's search for truth and light -
+These paths at one great Junction meet.
+
+Before the oldest book was writ,
+   Full many a prehistoric soul
+   Arrived at this unchanging goal,
+Through changeless Love, that leads to it.
+
+What matters that one found his Christ
+   In rising sun, or burning fire?
+   If faith within him did not tire,
+His longing for the Truth sufficed.
+
+Before our modern hell was brought
+   To edify the modern world,
+   Full many a hate-filled soul was hurled
+In lakes of fire by its own thought.
+
+A thousand creeds have come and gone,
+   But what is that to you or me?
+   Creeds are but branches of a tree -
+The root of love lives on and on.
+
+Though branch by branch proves withered wood,
+   The root is warm with precious wine.
+   Then keep your faith and leave me mine -
+All roads that lead to God are good.
+
+
+
+DUST-SEALED
+
+
+
+I know not wherefore, but mine eyes
+   See bloom, where other eyes see blight.
+They find a rainbow, a sunrise,
+   Where others but discern deep night.
+
+Men call me an enthusiast,
+   And say I look through gilded haze:
+Because where'er my gaze is cast,
+   I see something that calls for praise.
+
+I say, "Behold those lovely eyes -
+   That tinted cheek of flower-like grace."
+They answer in amused surprise:
+   "We thought it a common face."
+
+I say, "Was ever seen more fair?
+   I seem to walk in Eden's bowers."
+They answer, with a pitying air,
+   "The weeds are choking out the flowers."
+
+I know not wherefore, but God lent
+   A deeper vision to my sight.
+On whatsoe'er my gaze is bent
+   I catch the beauty Infinite;
+
+That underlying, hidden half
+   That all things hold of Deity.
+So let the dull crowd sneer and laugh -
+   Their eyes are blind, they cannot see.
+
+
+
+"ADVICE"
+
+
+
+I must do as you do?  Your way I own
+   Is a very good way.  And still,
+There are sometimes two straight roads to a town,
+   One over, one under the hill.
+
+You are treading the safe and the well-worn way,
+   That the prudent choose each time;
+And you think me reckless and rash to-day,
+   Because I prefer to climb.
+
+Your path is the right one, and so is mine.
+   We are not like peas in a pod,
+Compelled to lie in a certain line,
+   Or else be scattered abroad.
+
+'Twere a dull old world, methinks, my friend,
+   If we all went just one way;
+Yet our paths will meet no doubt at the end,
+   Though they lead apart to-day.
+
+You like the shade, and I like the sun;
+   You like an even pace,
+ I like to mix with the crowd and run,
+   And then rest after the race.
+
+I like danger, and storm and strife,
+   You like a peaceful time;
+I like the passion and surge of life,
+   You like its gentle rhyme.
+
+You like buttercups, dewy sweet,
+   And crocuses, framed in snow;
+I like roses, born of the heat,
+   And the red carnation's glow.
+
+I must live my life, not yours, my friend,
+   For so it was written down;
+We must follow our given paths to the end,
+   But I trust we shall meet--in town.
+
+
+
+OVER THE BANISTERS
+
+
+
+Over the banisters bends a face,
+   Daringly sweet and beguiling.
+Somebody stands in careless grace
+   And watching the picture, smiling.
+
+The light burns dim in the hall below,
+   Nobody sees her standing,
+Saying good-night again, soft and low,
+   Halfway up to the landing.
+
+Nobody only the eyes of brown,
+   Tender and full of meaning,
+That smile on the fairest face in town,
+   Over the banisters leaning.
+
+Tired and sleepy, with drooping head,
+   I wonder why she lingers;
+Now, when the good-nights all are said,
+   Why, somebody holds her fingers.
+
+He holds her fingers and draws her down,
+   Suddenly growing bolder,
+Till the loose hair drops its masses brown
+   Like a mantle over his shoulder.
+
+Over the banisters soft hands, fair,
+   Brush his cheeks like a feather,
+And bright brown tresses and dusky hair
+   Meet and mingle together.
+
+There's a question asked, there's a swift caress,
+   She has flown like a bird from the hallway,
+But over the banisters drops a "Yes,"
+   That shall brighten the world for him alway.
+
+
+
+THE PAST
+
+
+
+I fling my past behind me like a robe
+Worn threadbare in the seams, and out of date.
+I have outgrown it.  Wherefore should I weep
+And dwell upon its beauty, and its dyes
+Of Oriental splendour, or complain
+That I must needs discard it?  I can weave
+Upon the shuttles of the future years
+A fabric far more durable.  Subdued,
+It may be, in the blending of its hues,
+Where sombre shades commingle, yet the gleam
+Of golden warp shall shoot it through and through,
+While over all a fadeless lustre lies,
+And starred with gems made out of crystalled tears,
+My new robe shall be richer than the old.
+
+
+
+SECRETS
+
+
+
+Think not some knowledge rests with thee alone;
+   Why, even God's stupendous secret, Death,
+   We one by one, with our expiring breath,
+Do pale with wonder seize and make our own;
+The bosomed treasures of the earth are shown,
+   Despite her careful hiding; and the air
+   Yields its mysterious marvels in despair
+To swell the mighty store-house of things known.
+In vain the sea expostulates and raves;
+   It cannot cover from the keen world's sight
+   The curious wonders of its coral caves.
+And so, despite thy caution or thy tears,
+The prying fingers of detective years
+   Shall drag THY secret out into the light.
+
+
+
+APPLAUSE
+
+
+
+I hold it one of the sad certain laws
+Which makes our failures sometime seem more kind
+Than that success which brings sure loss behind -
+True greatness dies, when sounds the world's applause
+Fame blights the object it would bless, because
+   Weighed down with men's expectancy, the mind
+   Can no more soar to those far heights, and find
+That freedom which its inspiration was.
+When once we listen to its noisy cheers
+   Or hear the populace' approval, then
+We catch no more the music of the spheres,
+   Or walk with gods, and angels, but with men.
+Till, impotent from our self-conscious fears,
+The plaudits of the world turn into sneers.
+
+
+
+THE STORY
+
+
+
+They met each other in the glade -
+   She lifted up her eyes;
+Alack the day!  Alack the maid!
+   She blushed in swift surprise.
+Alas! alas! the woe that comes from lifting up the eyes.
+
+The pail was full, the path was steep -
+   He reached to her his hand;
+She felt her warm young pulses leap,
+   But did not understand.
+Alas! alas! the woe that comes from clasping hand with hand.
+
+She sat beside him in the wood -
+   He wooed with words and sighs;
+Ah! love in Spring seems sweet and good,
+   And maidens are not wise.
+Alas! alas! the woe that comes from listing lovers sighs.
+
+The summer sun shone fairly down,
+   The wind blew from the south;
+As blue eyes gazed in eyes of brown,
+   His kiss fell on her mouth.
+Alas! alas! the woe that comes from kisses on the mouth.
+
+And now the autumn time is near,
+   The lover roves away,
+With breaking heart and falling tear,
+   She sits the livelong day.
+Alas! alas! for breaking hearts when lovers rove away.
+
+
+
+LEAN DOWN
+
+
+
+Lean down and lift me higher, Josephine!
+From the Eternal Hills hast thou not seen
+How I do strive for heights? but lacking wings,
+I cannot grasp at once those better things
+To which I in my inmost soul aspire.
+Lean down and lift me higher.
+
+I grope along--not desolate or sad,
+For youth and hope and health all keep me glad;
+But too bright sunlight, sometimes, makes us blind,
+And I do grope for heights I cannot find.
+Oh, thou must know my one supreme desire -
+Lean down and lift me higher.
+
+Not long ago we trod the self-same way.
+Thou knowest how, from day to fleeting day
+Our souls were vexed with trifles, and our feet
+Were lured aside to by-paths which seemed sweet,
+But only served to hinder and to tire;
+Lean down and lift me higher.
+
+Thou hast gone onward to the heights serene,
+And left me here, my loved one, Josephine;
+I am content to stay until the end,
+For life is full of promise; but, my friend,
+Canst thou not help me in my best desire
+And lean, and lift me higher?
+
+Frail as thou wert, thou hast grown strong and wise,
+And quick to understand and sympathize
+With all a full soul's needs.  It must be so,
+Thy year with God hath made thee great, I know
+Thou must see how I struggle and aspire -
+Oh, warm me with a breath of heavenly fire,
+And lean, and lift me higher.
+
+
+
+LIFE
+
+
+
+I feel the great immensity of life.
+All little aims slip from me, and I reach
+My yearning soul toward the Infinite.
+
+As when a mighty forest, whose green leaves
+Have shut it in, and made it seem a bower
+For lovers' secrets, or for children's sports,
+Casts all its clustering foliage to the winds,
+And lets the eye behold it, limitless,
+And full of winding mysteries of ways:
+So now with life that reaches out before,
+And borders on the unexplained Beyond.
+
+I see the stars above me, world on world:
+I hear the awful language of all Space;
+I feel the distant surging of great seas,
+That hide the secrets of the Universe
+In their eternal bosoms; and I know
+That I am but an atom of the Whole.
+
+
+
+THE CHRISTIAN'S NEW YEAR PRAYER
+
+
+
+Thou Christ of mine, Thy gracious ear low bending
+   Through these glad New Year days,
+To catch the countless prayers to heaven ascending -
+   For e'en hard hearts do raise
+Some secret wish for fame, or gold, or power,
+   Or freedom from all care -
+Dear, patient Christ, who listeneth hour on hour,
+   Hear now a Christian's prayer.
+
+Let this young year that, silent, walks beside me,
+   Be as a means of grace
+To lead me up, no matter what betide me,
+   Nearer the Master's face.
+If it need be that ere I reach the Fountain
+   Where living waters play,
+My feet should bleed from sharp stones on the mountain,
+   Then cast them in my way.
+
+If my vain soul needs blows and bitter losses
+   To shape it for Thy crown,
+Then bruise it, burn it, burden it with crosses,
+   With sorrows bear it down.
+Do what Thou wilt to mould me to Thy pleasure,
+   And if I should complain,
+Heap full of anguish yet another measure
+   Until I smile at pain.
+Send dangers--deaths! but tell me how to dare them;
+   Enfold me in Thy care.
+Send trials, tears! but give me strength to bear them -
+This is a Christian's prayer.
+
+
+
+IN THE NIGHT
+
+
+
+Sometimes at night, when I sit and write,
+   I hear the strangest things, -
+As my brain grows hot with burning thought,
+   That struggles for form and wings,
+I can hear the beat of my swift blood's feet,
+   As it speeds with a rush and a whir
+From heart to brain and back again,
+   Like a race-horse under the spur.
+
+With my soul's fine ear I listen and hear
+   The tender Silence speak,
+As it leans on the breast of Night to rest,
+   And presses his dusky cheek.
+And the darkness turns in its sleep, and yearns
+   For something that is kin;
+And I hear the hiss of a scorching kiss,
+   As it folds and fondles Sin.
+
+In its hurrying race through leagues of space,
+   I can hear the Earth catch breath,
+As it heaves and moans, and shudders and groans,
+   And longs for the rest of Death.
+And high and far, from a distant star,
+   Whose name is unknown to me,
+I hear a voice that says, "Rejoice,
+   For I keep ward o'er thee!"
+
+Oh, sweet and strange are the sounds that range
+   Through the chambers of the night;
+And the watcher who waits by the dim, dark gates
+   May hear, if he lists aright.
+
+
+
+GOD'S MEASURE
+
+
+
+God measures souls by their capacity
+For entertaining his best Angel, Love.
+Who loveth most is nearest kin to God,
+Who is all Love, or Nothing.
+
+         He who sits
+And looks out on the palpitating world,
+And feels his heart swell within him large enough
+To hold all men within it, he is near
+His great Creator's standard, though he dwells
+Outside the pale of churches, and knows not
+A feast-day from a fast-day, or a line
+Of Scripture even.  What God wants of us
+Is that outreaching bigness that ignores
+All littleness of aims, or loves, or creeds,
+And clasps all Earth and Heaven in its embrace.
+
+
+
+A MARCH SNOW
+
+
+
+Let the old snow be covered with the new:
+The trampled snow, so soiled, and stained, and sodden.
+Let it be hidden wholly from our view
+   By pure white flakes, all trackless and untrodden.
+When Winter dies, low at the sweet Spring's feet,
+Let him be mantled in a clean, white sheet.
+Let the old life be covered by the new:
+   The old past life so full of sad mistakes,
+Let it be wholly hidden from the view
+   By deeds as white and silent as snow-flakes.
+Ere this earth life melts in the eternal Spring
+Let the white mantle of repentance fling
+Soft drapery about it, fold on fold,
+Even as the new snow covers up the old.
+
+
+
+PHILOSOPHY
+
+
+
+At morn the wise man walked abroad,
+   Proud with the learning of great fools.
+He laughed and said, "There is no God -
+   'Tis force creates, 'tis reason rules."
+
+Meek with the wisdom of great faith,
+   At night he knelt while angels smiled,
+And wept and cried with anguished breath,
+   "Jehovah, GOD, save Thou my child."
+
+
+
+"CARLOS"
+
+
+
+Last night I knelt low at my lady's feet.
+One soft, caressing hand played with my hair,
+And one I kissed and fondled.  Kneeling there,
+I deemed my meed of happiness complete.
+
+She was so fair, so full of witching wiles -
+Of fascinating tricks of mouth and eye;
+So womanly withal, but not too shy -
+And all my heaven was compassed by her smiles.
+
+Her soft touch on my cheek and forehead sent,
+Like little arrows, thrills of tenderness
+Through all my frame.  I trembled with excess
+Of love, and sighed the sigh of great content.
+
+When any mortal dares to so rejoice,
+I think a jealous Heaven, bending low,
+Reaches a stern hand forth and deals a blow.
+Sweet through the dusk I heard my lady's voice.
+
+"My love!" she sighed, "my Carlos!" even now
+I feel the perfumed zephyr of her breath
+Bearing to me those words of living death,
+And starting out the cold drops on my brow.
+
+For I am PAUL--not Carlos!  Who is he
+That, in the supreme hour of love's delight,
+Veiled by the shadows of the falling night,
+She should breathe low his name, forgetting me?
+
+I will not ask her! 'twere a fruitless task,
+For, woman-like, she would make me believe
+Some well-told tale; and sigh, and seem to grieve,
+And call me cruel.  Nay, I will not ask.
+
+But this man Carlos, whosoe'er he be,
+Has turned my cup of nectar into gall,
+Since I know he has claimed some one or all
+Of these delights my lady grants to me.
+
+He must have knelt and kissed her, in some sad
+And tender twilight, when the day grew dim.
+How else could I remind her so of him?
+Why, reveries like these have made men mad!
+
+He must have felt her soft hand on his brow.
+If Heaven were shocked at such presumptuous wrongs,
+And plunged him in the grave, where he belongs,
+STILL SHE REMEMBERS, though she loves me now.
+
+And if he lives, and meets me to his cost,
+Why, what avails it?  I must hear and see
+That curst name "Carlos" always haunting me -
+So has another Paradise been lost.
+
+
+
+THE TWO GLASSES
+
+
+
+There sat two glasses filled to the brim,
+   On a rich man's table, rim to rim.
+   One was ruddy and red as blood,
+And one was clear as the crystal flood.
+
+Said the glass of wine to his paler brother,
+"Let us tell tales of the past to each other;
+I can tell of a banquet, and revel, and mirth,
+Where I was king, for I ruled in might;
+For the proudest and grandest souls on earth
+Fell under my touch, as though struck with blight.
+From the heads of kings I have torn the crown;
+From the heights of fame I have hurled men down.
+I have blasted many an honoured name;
+I have taken virtue and given shame;
+I have tempted the youth with a sip, a taste,
+That has made his future a barren waste.
+Far greater than any king am I,
+Or than any army beneath the sky.
+I have made the arm of the driver fail,
+And sent the train from the iron rail.
+I have made good ships go down at sea,
+And the shrieks of the lost were sweet to me.
+Fame, strength, wealth, genius before me fall;
+And my might and power are over all!
+Ho, ho! pale brother," said the wine,
+"Can you boast of deeds as great as mine?"
+Said the water-glass:  "I cannot boast
+Of a king dethroned, or a murdered host,
+But I can tell of hearts that were sad
+By my crystal drops made bright and glad;
+Of thirsts I have quenched, and brows I have laved;
+Of hands I have cooled, and souls I have saved.
+I have leapt through the valley, dashed down the mountain,
+Slept in the sunshine, and dripped from the fountain.
+I have burst my cloud-fetters, and dropped from the sky,
+And everywhere gladdened the prospect and eye;
+I have eased the hot forehead of fever and pain;
+I have made the parched meadows grow fertile with grain.
+I can tell of the powerful wheel of the mill,
+That ground out the flour, and turned at my will.
+I can tell of manhood debased by you,
+That I have uplifted and crowned anew.
+I cheer, I help, I strengthen and aid;
+I gladden the heart of man and maid;
+I set the wine-chained captive free,
+And all are better for knowing me."
+
+These are the tales they told each other,
+The glass of wine and its paler brother,
+As they sat together, filled to the brim,
+On a rich man's table, rim to rim.
+
+
+
+LA MORT D'AMOUR
+
+
+
+When was it that love died?  We were so fond,
+   So very fond a little while ago.
+   With leaping pulses, and blood all aglow,
+We dreamed about a sweeter life beyond,
+
+When we should dwell together as one heart,
+   And scarce could wait that happy time to come.
+   Now side by side we sit with lips quite dumb,
+And feel ourselves a thousand miles apart.
+
+How was it that love died?  I do not know.
+   I only know that all its grace untold
+   Has faded into gray!  I miss the gold
+From our dull skies; but did not see it go.
+
+Why should love die?  We prized it, I am sure;
+   We thought of nothing else when it was ours;
+   We cherished it in smiling, sunlit bowers:
+It was our all; why could it not endure?
+
+Alas, we know not how, or when, or why
+   This dear thing died.  We only know it went,
+   And left us dull, cold, and indifferent;
+We who found heaven once in each other's sigh.
+
+How pitiful it is, and yet how true
+   That half the lovers in the world, one day,
+   Look questioning in each other's eyes this way
+And know love's gone forever, as we do.
+
+Sometimes I cannot help but think, dear heart,
+   As I look out o'er all the wide, sad earth
+   And see love's flame gone out on many a hearth,
+That those who would keep love must dwell apart.
+
+
+
+LOVE'S SLEEP
+(Vers de Societe)
+
+
+
+We'll cover Love with roses,
+   And sweet sleep he shall take
+None but a fool supposes
+   Love always keeps awake.
+I've known loves without number -
+   True loves were they, and tried;
+And just for want of slumber
+   They pined away and died.
+
+Our love was bright and cheerful
+   A little while agone;
+Now he is pale and tearful,
+   And--yes, I've seen him yawn.
+So tired is he of kisses
+   That he can only weep;
+The one dear thing he misses
+   And longs for now is sleep.
+
+We could not let him leave us
+   One time, he was so dear,
+But now it would not grieve us
+   If he slept half a year.
+For he has had his season,
+   Like the lily and the rose,
+And it but stands to reason
+   That he should want repose.
+
+We prized the smiling Cupid
+   Who made our days so bright;
+But he has grown so stupid
+   We gladly say good-night.
+And if he wakens tender
+   And fond, and fair as when
+He filled our lives with splendour,
+   We'll take him back again.
+
+And should he never waken,
+   As that perchance may be,
+We will not weep forsaken,
+   But sing, "Love, tra-la-lee!"
+
+
+
+TRUE CULTURE
+
+
+
+The highest culture is to speak no ill,
+The best reformer is the man whose eyes
+Are quick to see all beauty and all worth;
+And by his own discreet, well-ordered life,
+Alone reproves the erring.
+
+      When thy gaze
+Turns in on thine own soul, be most severe.
+But when it falls upon a fellow-man
+Let kindliness control it; and refrain
+From that belittling censure that springs forth
+From common lips like weeds from marshy soil.
+
+
+
+THE VOLUPTUARY
+
+
+
+Oh, I am sick of love reciprocated,
+   Of hopes fulfilled, ambitions gratified.
+Life holds no thing to be anticipated,
+   And I am sad from being satisfied.
+
+The eager joy felt climbing up a mountain
+   Has left me now the highest point is gained.
+The crystal spray that fell from Fame's fair fountain
+   Was sweeter than the waters were when drained.
+
+The gilded apple which the world calls pleasure,
+   And which I purchased with my youth and strength,
+Pleased me a moment.  But the empty treasure
+   Lost all its lustre, and grew dim at length.
+
+And love, all glowing with a golden glory,
+   Delighted me a season with its tale.
+It pleased the longest, but at last the story,
+   So oft repeated, to my heart grew stale.
+
+I lived for self, and all I asked was given,
+   I have had all, and now am sick of bliss,
+No other punishment designed by Heaven
+   Could strike me half so forcibly as this.
+
+I feel no sense of aught but enervation
+   In all the joys my selfish aims have brought,
+And know no wish but for annihilation,
+   Since that would give me freedom from the thought
+
+Oh, blest is he who has some aim defeated;
+   Some mighty loss to balance all his gain.
+For him there is a hope not yet completed;
+   For him hath life yet draughts of joy and pain.
+
+But cursed is he who has no balked ambition,
+   No hopeless hope, no loss beyond repair,
+But sick and sated with complete fruition,
+   Keeps not the pleasure even of despair.
+
+
+
+THE COQUETTE
+
+
+
+Alone she sat with her accusing heart,
+   That, like a restless comrade, frightened sleep,
+And every thought that found her left a dart
+   That hurt her so, she could not even weep.
+
+Her heart that once had been a cup well filled
+   With love's red wine, save for some drops of gall,
+She knew was empty; though it had not spilled
+   Its sweets for one, but wasted them on all.
+
+She stood upon the grave of her dead truth,
+   And saw her soul's bright armour red with rust,
+And knew that all the riches of her youth
+   Were Dead Sea apples, crumbling into dust.
+
+Love that had turned to bitter, biting scorn,
+   Hearthstones despoiled, and homes made desolate,
+Made her cry out that she was ever born
+   To loathe her beauty and to curse her fate.
+
+
+
+IF
+
+
+
+Dear love, if you and I could sail away,
+   With snowy pennons to the winds unfurled,
+Across the waters of some unknown bay,
+   And find some island far from all the world;
+
+If we could dwell there, ever more alone,
+   While unrecorded years slip by apace,
+Forgetting and forgotten and unknown
+   By aught save native song-birds of the place;
+
+If Winter never visited that land,
+   And Summer's lap spilled o'er with fruits and flowers,
+And tropic trees cast shade on every hand,
+   And twined boughs formed sleep-inviting bowers;
+
+If from the fashions of the world set free,
+   And hid away from all its jealous strife,
+I lived alone for you, and you for me -
+   Ah! then, dear love, how sweet were wedded life.
+
+But since we dwell here in the crowded way,
+   Where hurrying throngs rush by to seek for gold,
+And all is commonplace and workaday,
+   As soon as love's young honeymoon grows old;
+
+Since fashion rules and nature yields to art,
+   And life is hurt by daily jar and fret,
+'Tis best to shut such dreams down in the heart
+   And go our ways alone, love, and forget.
+
+
+
+LOVE'S BURIAL
+
+
+
+Let us clear a little space,
+And make Love a burial-place.
+
+He is dead, dear, as you see,
+And he wearies you and me.
+
+Growing heavier, day by day,
+Let us bury him, I say.
+
+Wings of dead white butterflies,
+These shall shroud him, as he lies
+
+In his casket rich and rare,
+Made of finest maiden-hair.
+
+With the pollen of the rose
+Let us his white eyelids close.
+
+Put the rose thorn in his hand,
+Shorn of leaves--you understand.
+
+Let some holy water fall
+On his dead face, tears of gall -
+
+As we kneel by him and say,
+"Dreams to dreams," and turn away.
+
+Those gravediggers, Doubt, Distrust,
+They will lower him to the dust.
+
+Let us part here with a kiss -
+You go that way, I go this.
+
+Since we buried Love to-day
+We will walk a separate way.
+
+
+
+LIPPO
+
+
+
+Now we must part, my Lippo.  Even so,
+I grieve to see thy sudden pained surprise;
+Gaze not on me with such accusing eyes -
+'Twas thine own hand which dealt dear
+Love's death-blow.
+
+I loved thee fondly yesterday.  Till then
+Thy heart was like a covered golden cup
+Always above my eager lip held up.
+I fancied thou wert not as other men.
+
+I knew that heart was filled with Love's sweet wine,
+Pressed wholly for my drinking.  And my lip
+Grew parched with thirsting for one nectared sip
+Of what, denied me, seemed a draught divine.
+
+Last evening, in the gloaming, that cup spilled
+Its precious contents.  Even to the lees
+Were offered to me, saying, "Drink of these!"
+And, when I saw it empty, Love was killed.
+
+No word was left unsaid, no act undone,
+To prove to me thou wert my abject slave.
+Ah!  Love, hadst thou been wise enough to save
+One little drop of that sweet wine--but one -
+
+I still had loved thee, longing for it then.
+But even the cup is mine.  I look within,
+And find it holds not one last drop to win,
+And cast it down.--Thou art as other men.
+
+
+
+"LOVE IS ENOUGH"
+
+
+
+Love is enough.  Let us not ask for gold.
+   Wealth breeds false aims, and pride and selfishness;
+In those serene, Arcadian days of old
+   Men gave no thought to princely homes and dress,
+The gods who dwelt on fair Olympia's height
+Lived only for dear love and love's delight.
+         Love is enough.
+
+Love is enough.  Why should we care for fame?
+   Ambition is a most unpleasant guest:
+It lures us with the glory of a name
+   Far from the happy haunts of peace and rest.
+Let us stay here in this secluded place
+Made beautiful by love's endearing grace!
+         Love is enough.
+
+Love is enough.  Why should we strive for power?
+   It brings men only envy and distrust.
+The poor world's homage pleases but an hour,
+   And earthly honours vanish in the dust.
+The grandest lives are ofttimes desolate;
+Let me be loved, and let who will be great.
+         Love is enough.
+
+Love is enough.  Why should we ask for more?
+   What greater gift have gods vouchsafed to men?
+What better boon of all their precious store
+   Than our fond hearts that love and love again?
+Old love may die; new love is just as sweet;
+And life is fair and all the world complete:
+         Love is enough!
+
+
+
+LIFE IS LOVE
+
+
+
+Is anyone sad in the world, I wonder?
+   Does anyone weep on a day like this,
+With the sun above and the green earth under?
+   Why, what is life but a dream of bliss?
+
+With the sun and the skies and the birds above me,
+   Birds that sing as they wheel and fly -
+With the winds to follow and say they loved me -
+   Who could be lonely?  O ho, not I!
+
+Somebody said in the street this morning,
+   As I opened my window to let in the light,
+That the darkest day of the world was dawning;
+   But I looked, and the East was a gorgeous sight
+
+One who claims that he knows about it
+   Tells me the Earth is a vale of sin;
+But I and the bees and the birds--we doubt it,
+   And think it a world worth living in.
+
+Someone says that hearts are fickle,
+   That love is sorrow, that life is care,
+And the reaper Death, with his shining sickle,
+   Gathers whatever is bright and fair.
+
+I told the thrush, and we laughed together -
+   Laughed till the woods were all a-ring;
+And he said to me, as he plumed each feather,
+   "Well, people must croak, if they cannot sing!"
+
+Up he flew, but his song, remaining,
+   Rang like a bell in my heart all day,
+And silenced the voices of weak complaining
+   That pipe like insects along the way.
+
+O world of light, and O world of beauty!
+   Where are there pleasures so sweet as thine?
+Yes, life is love, and love is duty;
+   And what heart sorrows?  O no, not mine!
+
+
+
+
+
+End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of Maurine etc., by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
+
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