Page images
PDF
EPUB

SLEEPLESS DREAMS

G

IRT in dark growths, yet glimmering with one star,

O night desirous as the nights of youth!

Why should my heart within thy spell, forsooth,
Now beat, as the bride's finger-pulses are
Quickened within the girdling golden bar?

What wings are these that fan my pillow smooth?
And why does Sleep, waved back by Joy and Ruth,
Tread softly round and gaze at me from far?

Nay, night deep-leaved! And would Love feign in thee
Some shadowy palpitating grove that bears

Rest for man's eyes and music for his ears?
O lonely night! art thou not known to me,

A thicket hung with masks of mockery

And watered with the wasteful warmth of tears?

STILLBORN LOVE

HE hour which might have been yet might not be,

Tw

Which man's and woman's heart conceived and bore

Yet whereof life was barren,-on what shore
Bides it the breaking of Time's weary sea?
Bondchild of all consummate joys set free,

It somewhere sighs and serves, and mute before
The house of Love, hears through the echoing door
His hours ele&t in choral consonancy.

But lo! what wedded souls now hand in hand
Together tread at last the immortal strand

With eyes where burning memory lights love home?
Lo! how the little outcast hour has turned

And leaped to them and in their faces yearned:

66

"I am your

child: O parents, ye have come!"

THE CHOICE

E

AT thou and drink; to-morrow thou shalt die.

Surely the earth, that's wise being very old,
Needs not our help. Then loose me, love, and hold
Thy sultry hair up from my face; that I
May pour for thee this golden wine, brim-high,
Till round the glass thy fingers glow like gold.
We'll drown all hours: thy song, while hours are toll'd,
Shall leap, as fountains veil the changing sky.

Now kiss, and think that there are really those,
My own high-bosomed beauty, who increase
Vain gold, vain lore, and yet might choose our way!
Through many years they toil; then on a day

They die not, for their life was death,-but cease; And round their narrow lips the mould falls close.

BODY'S BEAUTY

F Adam's first wife, Lilith, it is told

OF

(The witch he loved before the gift of Eve,)

That, ere the snake's, her sweet tongue could deceive,

And her enchanted hair was the first gold.

And still she sits, young while the earth is old,

And, subtly of herself contemplative,

Draws men to watch the bright web she can weave,

Till heart and body and life are in its hold.

The rose and poppy are her flowers; for where
Is he not found, O Lilith, whom shed scent
And soft-shed kisses and soft sleep shall snare?
Lo! as that youth's eyes burned at thine, so went
Thy spell through him, and left his straight neck bent
And round his heart one strangling golden hair.

A SUPERSCRIPTION

OOK in my face; my name is Might-have-been;

I am also called No-more, Too-late, Farewell; Unto thine ear I hold the dead-sea shell

Cast up thy Life's foam-fretted feet between;
Unto thine eyes the glass where that is seen
Which had Life's form and Love's, but by my spell
Is now a shaken shadow intolerable,

Of ultimate things unuttered the frail screen.

Mark me, how still I am! But should there dart
One moment through thy soul the soft surprise

Of that winged Peace which lulls the breath of sighs,—
Then shalt thou see me smile, and turn apart

Thy visage to mine ambush at thy heart
Sleepless with cold commemorative eyes.

« PreviousContinue »