He was straight and strong, and his eyes were blueAs the summer meeting of sky and sea,And the ruddy cliffs have a colder hueThan flushed his cheek when he married me.We passed the porch where the swallows breed,We left the little brown church behind,And I leaned on his arm though I had no need,Only to feel him so strong and kind.One thing I never can quite forget—It grips my throat when I try to pray—The keen salt smell of a drying netThat hung on the churchyard wall that day.He would have taken a long, long grave—A long, long grave, for he stood so tall....Oh, God—the crash of the breaking wave,And the smell of the nets on the churchyard wall!
He was straight and strong, and his eyes were blueAs the summer meeting of sky and sea,And the ruddy cliffs have a colder hueThan flushed his cheek when he married me.We passed the porch where the swallows breed,We left the little brown church behind,And I leaned on his arm though I had no need,Only to feel him so strong and kind.One thing I never can quite forget—It grips my throat when I try to pray—The keen salt smell of a drying netThat hung on the churchyard wall that day.He would have taken a long, long grave—A long, long grave, for he stood so tall....Oh, God—the crash of the breaking wave,And the smell of the nets on the churchyard wall!
He was straight and strong, and his eyes were blueAs the summer meeting of sky and sea,And the ruddy cliffs have a colder hueThan flushed his cheek when he married me.
We passed the porch where the swallows breed,We left the little brown church behind,And I leaned on his arm though I had no need,Only to feel him so strong and kind.
One thing I never can quite forget—It grips my throat when I try to pray—The keen salt smell of a drying netThat hung on the churchyard wall that day.
He would have taken a long, long grave—A long, long grave, for he stood so tall....Oh, God—the crash of the breaking wave,And the smell of the nets on the churchyard wall!
The BellmanAmelia Josephine Burr
Blessed with a joy that only sheOf all alive shall ever know,She wears a proud humilityFor what it was that willed it so,—That her degree should be so greatAmong the favored of the LordThat she may scarcely bear the weightOf her bewildering reward.As one apart, immune, alone,Or featured for the shining ones,And like to none that she has knownOf other women’s other sons,—The firm fruition of her need,He shines anointed; and he blursHer vision, till it seems indeedA sacrilege to call him hers.She fears a little for so muchOf what is best, and hardly daresTo think of him as one to touchWith aches, indignities, and cares;She sees him rather at the goal,Still shining; and her dream foretellsThe proper shining of a soulWhere nothing ordinary dwells.Perchance a canvass of the townWould find him far from flags and shouts,And leave him only the renownOf many smiles and many doubts;Perchance the crude and common tongueWould havoc strangely with his worth;But she, with innocence unstung,Would read his name around the earth.And others, knowing how this youthWould shine, if love could make him great,When caught and tortured for the truthWould only writhe and hesitate;While she, arranging for his daysWhat centuries could not fulfil,Transmutes him with her faith and praise,And has him shining where she will.She crowns him with her gratefulness,And says again that life is good;And should the gift of God be lessIn him than in her motherhood,His fame, though vague, will not be small,As upward through her dream he fares,Half clouded with a crimson fallOf roses thrown on marble stairs.
Blessed with a joy that only sheOf all alive shall ever know,She wears a proud humilityFor what it was that willed it so,—That her degree should be so greatAmong the favored of the LordThat she may scarcely bear the weightOf her bewildering reward.As one apart, immune, alone,Or featured for the shining ones,And like to none that she has knownOf other women’s other sons,—The firm fruition of her need,He shines anointed; and he blursHer vision, till it seems indeedA sacrilege to call him hers.She fears a little for so muchOf what is best, and hardly daresTo think of him as one to touchWith aches, indignities, and cares;She sees him rather at the goal,Still shining; and her dream foretellsThe proper shining of a soulWhere nothing ordinary dwells.Perchance a canvass of the townWould find him far from flags and shouts,And leave him only the renownOf many smiles and many doubts;Perchance the crude and common tongueWould havoc strangely with his worth;But she, with innocence unstung,Would read his name around the earth.And others, knowing how this youthWould shine, if love could make him great,When caught and tortured for the truthWould only writhe and hesitate;While she, arranging for his daysWhat centuries could not fulfil,Transmutes him with her faith and praise,And has him shining where she will.She crowns him with her gratefulness,And says again that life is good;And should the gift of God be lessIn him than in her motherhood,His fame, though vague, will not be small,As upward through her dream he fares,Half clouded with a crimson fallOf roses thrown on marble stairs.
Blessed with a joy that only sheOf all alive shall ever know,She wears a proud humilityFor what it was that willed it so,—That her degree should be so greatAmong the favored of the LordThat she may scarcely bear the weightOf her bewildering reward.
As one apart, immune, alone,Or featured for the shining ones,And like to none that she has knownOf other women’s other sons,—The firm fruition of her need,He shines anointed; and he blursHer vision, till it seems indeedA sacrilege to call him hers.
She fears a little for so muchOf what is best, and hardly daresTo think of him as one to touchWith aches, indignities, and cares;She sees him rather at the goal,Still shining; and her dream foretellsThe proper shining of a soulWhere nothing ordinary dwells.
Perchance a canvass of the townWould find him far from flags and shouts,And leave him only the renownOf many smiles and many doubts;Perchance the crude and common tongueWould havoc strangely with his worth;But she, with innocence unstung,Would read his name around the earth.
And others, knowing how this youthWould shine, if love could make him great,When caught and tortured for the truthWould only writhe and hesitate;While she, arranging for his daysWhat centuries could not fulfil,Transmutes him with her faith and praise,And has him shining where she will.
She crowns him with her gratefulness,And says again that life is good;And should the gift of God be lessIn him than in her motherhood,His fame, though vague, will not be small,As upward through her dream he fares,Half clouded with a crimson fallOf roses thrown on marble stairs.
Scribner’sEdwin Arlington Robinson
In the fair picture of my life’s estateWhich long ago my yearning fancy drewFrom hints of poets, prophets, lords of fate,What place is there, belovèd one, for you?How in this edifice of the soaring dome,Noble, harmonious, lifted towards the stars,Shall I carve forth a niche to be the homeOf you and of my love that round you wars?Ah, folly his, who builds him such a houseToo early, by impatient visions led,Ere he can know what blood shall stain his brows,And from what troubled streams his heart is fed.Now must he labor, in late night, aloneTo wreck,—and then rebuild it, stone by stone.
In the fair picture of my life’s estateWhich long ago my yearning fancy drewFrom hints of poets, prophets, lords of fate,What place is there, belovèd one, for you?How in this edifice of the soaring dome,Noble, harmonious, lifted towards the stars,Shall I carve forth a niche to be the homeOf you and of my love that round you wars?Ah, folly his, who builds him such a houseToo early, by impatient visions led,Ere he can know what blood shall stain his brows,And from what troubled streams his heart is fed.Now must he labor, in late night, aloneTo wreck,—and then rebuild it, stone by stone.
In the fair picture of my life’s estateWhich long ago my yearning fancy drewFrom hints of poets, prophets, lords of fate,What place is there, belovèd one, for you?How in this edifice of the soaring dome,Noble, harmonious, lifted towards the stars,Shall I carve forth a niche to be the homeOf you and of my love that round you wars?Ah, folly his, who builds him such a houseToo early, by impatient visions led,Ere he can know what blood shall stain his brows,And from what troubled streams his heart is fed.Now must he labor, in late night, aloneTo wreck,—and then rebuild it, stone by stone.
The ForumArthur Davison Ficke
The last farewells were said, friends hurried ashore,—The screw threshed foam, and jarred; the pier slid by;Hands went to ears to still the siren’s roar,Handkerchiefs waved, and there was call and cry;Over it all, austere and pure and high,Glittering snow and gold, the towers looked down,—Serene and cold, regardless of the town.The wind blew north; and gravely on it cameThe trolling of the Metropolitan bells,First the four chimes, softly as puffs of flame,Then the deep five ... Slow, gentle gleaming swellsCame glancing in the sun, with ocean smells,Up from the harbor and the further sea;Over the stern poised white gulls, giddily.Over the stern they poised and dipped and glanced,Now dull in shade, now shining in bright sun,And one youth watched them as they whirled and danced,And noticed how they circled, one by one;To have those wings, that freedom,—God, what fun!—And watching them he felt youth in him, strong,Wings in his blood, and in his heart a song.Autumn! Already now the keen wind nipped,The skies arched cold bright blue, the leaves were turning;Whitely over the waves the cold squalls whipped;Scarlet and pale, the maple trees were burning,Tossing in gusts, and whirling and returning,On Staten Island, wonderfully afire;In bacchic song they flamed, with mad desire.Autumn! bringing to old adventures death,Sadness at all things past, things passing still,Touching all earth with strange and mystic breath,Veiling all earth in fire ere winter kill;Even this youth felt now his deep heart fillWith a grey tide of mystery and sadness,Poignant sorrow for all past hours of gladness....Those times—would others come as keen as they?Was life to come as living as life past?—Ah, he was youth, life could not say him nay,—The blood sang swift in him, doubt could not last;Let all life dead beneath his feet be castAnd he would trample it, divinely singing:Life lay before, more rapturous music bringing!More lusts, more shining eyes, more dizzy laughter,More, madder music, flute and violin,With drums before and roses showered after,Always in new bliss drowning his old sin;Sin?—Was it that?—And straight in merry dinOf song and shout and laugh this thought was lost;It was no sin to live, whate’er the cost!...High overhead the Brooklyn bridges passed,Span upon span and rumorous with cars,Their shadows on the deck a moment cast,With dizzy thunder from their traffic’s wars;Those grey stone piers would soon be crowned with stars,—Even now their brows were soft with waning sun;The homeward march of armies was begun.Good-bye, old bridges! And New York, good-bye!Northward the engines took him; now no moreHis gaze hung here; he watched the western skyBlazing with vision-isles and faery shore;Northward the vibrant ship beneath him bore;The Sound spread out before them, wide and blue,Clean came the wind whereon the sea-gulls flew....Soft fields, the flaming trees, a twilight farm ...New York was gone. He drew deep breaths of air,Keen as keen fire it was; then slow and calm,He turned to walk ... when lo, a girl came there,Deep sunset in her eyes and on her hair,Her white dress clinging to her knees, one handRising to shade her blue eyes; as she scannedThe swiftly gliding shore, the passing ships,The bell-buoys, bobbing and tolling in the tide....A moment, breath hung lifeless on his lips,His heart froze quiet; no one was at her side;Faintly, he smiled; he thought her eyes replied,Remote lights meeting in them,—quickening;He passed, and all his body seemed to sing....He passed, then turned; and, as he turned, she turned,—Her eyes met his eyes shyly, then againShe looked away, and all her soft face burned,And all her virgin heart was big with pain.From the saloon below came soft a strainOf some new rag-time, bidding feet to move,Imploring hands to cling, young hearts to love....Sweetly it came, seductive, soft bizarre,Huddled and breathless now, now note by noteCrying its separate pain ... now near, now far ...Mingled with all the throbbing of the boat.How beautiful! the first star came, to floatImpalpable in dusk, low in the east;It seemed to sing on when the music ceased.Herald of love, lo, love itself it seemed,Singing into the twilight of her soul....How beautiful!... across dark waters gleamedRed lights and green, she heard a bell-buoy tollSuddenly caught in the after-wash’s roll;A smell of autumn fires came down the wind;Beauty so keen it seemed it must have sinned....What was this night, what did it bring to her,What flower unfolded in its darkness now?She was this night; she felt her deep soul stir,The slow strange stir of blossoms in the bough....How beautiful! She watched the forefoot ploughSheer through the foaming black, the white waves glidingDizzily past, now swelling, now subsiding....O Youth, O music, O sweet wizardryOf young life sung like fire through beating veins!O covering darkness and persuasive sea!O night of stars, of blisses and of pains!But most, O Youth, that but an hour remains,—Be fierce, be sweet with us before you go;For, knowing you, the best of life we know.Enchanted so she watched dark waters slippingSwiftly and dizzily past the sheer black side,Watched the fierce wind in sudden flurries whippingThe torn spray from the waves, against the tide;High among stars she saw the mast-head glide,—Steadily now, now swinging slowly, slightly,There the high mast-head lantern burning brightly....O Youth, O music, O sweet wizardy,—O covering darkness of mysterious night!—She turned; along the dark deck, quietly,He came again; an open door shed lightStrongly across him for a space, then frightSuddenly set her wild heart beating, beating,—Suddenly set her endlessly repeating“I mustn’t speak! I mustn’t speak!”—And thenHe stood beside her, close and warm and strong,And she knew sudden the beauty that’s in men,And all her blood flew musical with song....“—Beautiful, isn’t it?—Have you known it long?”—Calmly he looked at her, and gently spoke.She nodded, lightly; then the warm words brokeEasily, quickly, fervently from her heart,All the restraint of all her youth was gone,She felt a thousand warm new instincts startOut of her soul, birds taking wing with dawn,Singing their hearts out ... With a deep breath drawn,“Yes! I’ve known it for years, and loved it, too;Beautiful!—This—is this the first for you?”They talked, in low tones; and the sound of sea,Falling of foam and swish of dropping spray,Encircled them with song, incessantly;—They felt alone, the world seemed far away.They two! they two! so seemed the night to say;A darkness and a stealing fragrance cameSpreading through all their souls, silent as flame....O beauty of being a living thing, she thought,—Of drawing breath beneath these stars, this sky!—O beautiful fire that from his eyes she caught,That made her breath rise quick, her lips burn dry!What was this thing? Dread came, she scarce knew why,—Impulsively she went; yet she had givenHer word to dine with him, her earth was heaven.He watched her go, and smiled,—her white dress blowing,Softly in dark,—so young, so sweet, so brave!She was so pure! by God, there was no knowing,—And he had half a mind, still, to behave....No, though: far better take what fortune gave,—Dance to the music that was played for him;Smiling he mused of her, his eyes grew dim,—And he could feel her warmness by his side,And all his body flushed with sweet desireTo take her shining loveliness for bride,To kiss, to fuse with her in single fire....O youth, O young heart musical as a lyre!O covering darkness of mysterious night!He knew these things; his heart was filled with light....What was one more? Pah, how he scorned this qualm!Innocent? Such girls seem—but never are.No, he was not her first.... And cold and calmHe turned and sought the brightly-lighted bar....The music rose, through shut doors, faint and far,Wailful.... Down in her stateroom mirror thereA young girl eyed herself, with frightened stare.
The last farewells were said, friends hurried ashore,—The screw threshed foam, and jarred; the pier slid by;Hands went to ears to still the siren’s roar,Handkerchiefs waved, and there was call and cry;Over it all, austere and pure and high,Glittering snow and gold, the towers looked down,—Serene and cold, regardless of the town.The wind blew north; and gravely on it cameThe trolling of the Metropolitan bells,First the four chimes, softly as puffs of flame,Then the deep five ... Slow, gentle gleaming swellsCame glancing in the sun, with ocean smells,Up from the harbor and the further sea;Over the stern poised white gulls, giddily.Over the stern they poised and dipped and glanced,Now dull in shade, now shining in bright sun,And one youth watched them as they whirled and danced,And noticed how they circled, one by one;To have those wings, that freedom,—God, what fun!—And watching them he felt youth in him, strong,Wings in his blood, and in his heart a song.Autumn! Already now the keen wind nipped,The skies arched cold bright blue, the leaves were turning;Whitely over the waves the cold squalls whipped;Scarlet and pale, the maple trees were burning,Tossing in gusts, and whirling and returning,On Staten Island, wonderfully afire;In bacchic song they flamed, with mad desire.Autumn! bringing to old adventures death,Sadness at all things past, things passing still,Touching all earth with strange and mystic breath,Veiling all earth in fire ere winter kill;Even this youth felt now his deep heart fillWith a grey tide of mystery and sadness,Poignant sorrow for all past hours of gladness....Those times—would others come as keen as they?Was life to come as living as life past?—Ah, he was youth, life could not say him nay,—The blood sang swift in him, doubt could not last;Let all life dead beneath his feet be castAnd he would trample it, divinely singing:Life lay before, more rapturous music bringing!More lusts, more shining eyes, more dizzy laughter,More, madder music, flute and violin,With drums before and roses showered after,Always in new bliss drowning his old sin;Sin?—Was it that?—And straight in merry dinOf song and shout and laugh this thought was lost;It was no sin to live, whate’er the cost!...High overhead the Brooklyn bridges passed,Span upon span and rumorous with cars,Their shadows on the deck a moment cast,With dizzy thunder from their traffic’s wars;Those grey stone piers would soon be crowned with stars,—Even now their brows were soft with waning sun;The homeward march of armies was begun.Good-bye, old bridges! And New York, good-bye!Northward the engines took him; now no moreHis gaze hung here; he watched the western skyBlazing with vision-isles and faery shore;Northward the vibrant ship beneath him bore;The Sound spread out before them, wide and blue,Clean came the wind whereon the sea-gulls flew....Soft fields, the flaming trees, a twilight farm ...New York was gone. He drew deep breaths of air,Keen as keen fire it was; then slow and calm,He turned to walk ... when lo, a girl came there,Deep sunset in her eyes and on her hair,Her white dress clinging to her knees, one handRising to shade her blue eyes; as she scannedThe swiftly gliding shore, the passing ships,The bell-buoys, bobbing and tolling in the tide....A moment, breath hung lifeless on his lips,His heart froze quiet; no one was at her side;Faintly, he smiled; he thought her eyes replied,Remote lights meeting in them,—quickening;He passed, and all his body seemed to sing....He passed, then turned; and, as he turned, she turned,—Her eyes met his eyes shyly, then againShe looked away, and all her soft face burned,And all her virgin heart was big with pain.From the saloon below came soft a strainOf some new rag-time, bidding feet to move,Imploring hands to cling, young hearts to love....Sweetly it came, seductive, soft bizarre,Huddled and breathless now, now note by noteCrying its separate pain ... now near, now far ...Mingled with all the throbbing of the boat.How beautiful! the first star came, to floatImpalpable in dusk, low in the east;It seemed to sing on when the music ceased.Herald of love, lo, love itself it seemed,Singing into the twilight of her soul....How beautiful!... across dark waters gleamedRed lights and green, she heard a bell-buoy tollSuddenly caught in the after-wash’s roll;A smell of autumn fires came down the wind;Beauty so keen it seemed it must have sinned....What was this night, what did it bring to her,What flower unfolded in its darkness now?She was this night; she felt her deep soul stir,The slow strange stir of blossoms in the bough....How beautiful! She watched the forefoot ploughSheer through the foaming black, the white waves glidingDizzily past, now swelling, now subsiding....O Youth, O music, O sweet wizardryOf young life sung like fire through beating veins!O covering darkness and persuasive sea!O night of stars, of blisses and of pains!But most, O Youth, that but an hour remains,—Be fierce, be sweet with us before you go;For, knowing you, the best of life we know.Enchanted so she watched dark waters slippingSwiftly and dizzily past the sheer black side,Watched the fierce wind in sudden flurries whippingThe torn spray from the waves, against the tide;High among stars she saw the mast-head glide,—Steadily now, now swinging slowly, slightly,There the high mast-head lantern burning brightly....O Youth, O music, O sweet wizardy,—O covering darkness of mysterious night!—She turned; along the dark deck, quietly,He came again; an open door shed lightStrongly across him for a space, then frightSuddenly set her wild heart beating, beating,—Suddenly set her endlessly repeating“I mustn’t speak! I mustn’t speak!”—And thenHe stood beside her, close and warm and strong,And she knew sudden the beauty that’s in men,And all her blood flew musical with song....“—Beautiful, isn’t it?—Have you known it long?”—Calmly he looked at her, and gently spoke.She nodded, lightly; then the warm words brokeEasily, quickly, fervently from her heart,All the restraint of all her youth was gone,She felt a thousand warm new instincts startOut of her soul, birds taking wing with dawn,Singing their hearts out ... With a deep breath drawn,“Yes! I’ve known it for years, and loved it, too;Beautiful!—This—is this the first for you?”They talked, in low tones; and the sound of sea,Falling of foam and swish of dropping spray,Encircled them with song, incessantly;—They felt alone, the world seemed far away.They two! they two! so seemed the night to say;A darkness and a stealing fragrance cameSpreading through all their souls, silent as flame....O beauty of being a living thing, she thought,—Of drawing breath beneath these stars, this sky!—O beautiful fire that from his eyes she caught,That made her breath rise quick, her lips burn dry!What was this thing? Dread came, she scarce knew why,—Impulsively she went; yet she had givenHer word to dine with him, her earth was heaven.He watched her go, and smiled,—her white dress blowing,Softly in dark,—so young, so sweet, so brave!She was so pure! by God, there was no knowing,—And he had half a mind, still, to behave....No, though: far better take what fortune gave,—Dance to the music that was played for him;Smiling he mused of her, his eyes grew dim,—And he could feel her warmness by his side,And all his body flushed with sweet desireTo take her shining loveliness for bride,To kiss, to fuse with her in single fire....O youth, O young heart musical as a lyre!O covering darkness of mysterious night!He knew these things; his heart was filled with light....What was one more? Pah, how he scorned this qualm!Innocent? Such girls seem—but never are.No, he was not her first.... And cold and calmHe turned and sought the brightly-lighted bar....The music rose, through shut doors, faint and far,Wailful.... Down in her stateroom mirror thereA young girl eyed herself, with frightened stare.
The last farewells were said, friends hurried ashore,—The screw threshed foam, and jarred; the pier slid by;Hands went to ears to still the siren’s roar,Handkerchiefs waved, and there was call and cry;Over it all, austere and pure and high,Glittering snow and gold, the towers looked down,—Serene and cold, regardless of the town.
The wind blew north; and gravely on it cameThe trolling of the Metropolitan bells,First the four chimes, softly as puffs of flame,Then the deep five ... Slow, gentle gleaming swellsCame glancing in the sun, with ocean smells,Up from the harbor and the further sea;Over the stern poised white gulls, giddily.
Over the stern they poised and dipped and glanced,Now dull in shade, now shining in bright sun,And one youth watched them as they whirled and danced,And noticed how they circled, one by one;To have those wings, that freedom,—God, what fun!—And watching them he felt youth in him, strong,Wings in his blood, and in his heart a song.
Autumn! Already now the keen wind nipped,The skies arched cold bright blue, the leaves were turning;Whitely over the waves the cold squalls whipped;Scarlet and pale, the maple trees were burning,Tossing in gusts, and whirling and returning,On Staten Island, wonderfully afire;In bacchic song they flamed, with mad desire.
Autumn! bringing to old adventures death,Sadness at all things past, things passing still,Touching all earth with strange and mystic breath,Veiling all earth in fire ere winter kill;Even this youth felt now his deep heart fillWith a grey tide of mystery and sadness,Poignant sorrow for all past hours of gladness....
Those times—would others come as keen as they?Was life to come as living as life past?—Ah, he was youth, life could not say him nay,—The blood sang swift in him, doubt could not last;Let all life dead beneath his feet be castAnd he would trample it, divinely singing:Life lay before, more rapturous music bringing!
More lusts, more shining eyes, more dizzy laughter,More, madder music, flute and violin,With drums before and roses showered after,Always in new bliss drowning his old sin;Sin?—Was it that?—And straight in merry dinOf song and shout and laugh this thought was lost;It was no sin to live, whate’er the cost!...
High overhead the Brooklyn bridges passed,Span upon span and rumorous with cars,Their shadows on the deck a moment cast,With dizzy thunder from their traffic’s wars;Those grey stone piers would soon be crowned with stars,—Even now their brows were soft with waning sun;The homeward march of armies was begun.
Good-bye, old bridges! And New York, good-bye!Northward the engines took him; now no moreHis gaze hung here; he watched the western skyBlazing with vision-isles and faery shore;Northward the vibrant ship beneath him bore;The Sound spread out before them, wide and blue,Clean came the wind whereon the sea-gulls flew....
Soft fields, the flaming trees, a twilight farm ...New York was gone. He drew deep breaths of air,Keen as keen fire it was; then slow and calm,He turned to walk ... when lo, a girl came there,Deep sunset in her eyes and on her hair,Her white dress clinging to her knees, one handRising to shade her blue eyes; as she scanned
The swiftly gliding shore, the passing ships,The bell-buoys, bobbing and tolling in the tide....A moment, breath hung lifeless on his lips,His heart froze quiet; no one was at her side;Faintly, he smiled; he thought her eyes replied,Remote lights meeting in them,—quickening;He passed, and all his body seemed to sing....
He passed, then turned; and, as he turned, she turned,—Her eyes met his eyes shyly, then againShe looked away, and all her soft face burned,And all her virgin heart was big with pain.From the saloon below came soft a strainOf some new rag-time, bidding feet to move,Imploring hands to cling, young hearts to love....
Sweetly it came, seductive, soft bizarre,Huddled and breathless now, now note by noteCrying its separate pain ... now near, now far ...Mingled with all the throbbing of the boat.How beautiful! the first star came, to floatImpalpable in dusk, low in the east;It seemed to sing on when the music ceased.
Herald of love, lo, love itself it seemed,Singing into the twilight of her soul....How beautiful!... across dark waters gleamedRed lights and green, she heard a bell-buoy tollSuddenly caught in the after-wash’s roll;A smell of autumn fires came down the wind;Beauty so keen it seemed it must have sinned....
What was this night, what did it bring to her,What flower unfolded in its darkness now?She was this night; she felt her deep soul stir,The slow strange stir of blossoms in the bough....How beautiful! She watched the forefoot ploughSheer through the foaming black, the white waves glidingDizzily past, now swelling, now subsiding....
O Youth, O music, O sweet wizardryOf young life sung like fire through beating veins!O covering darkness and persuasive sea!O night of stars, of blisses and of pains!But most, O Youth, that but an hour remains,—Be fierce, be sweet with us before you go;For, knowing you, the best of life we know.
Enchanted so she watched dark waters slippingSwiftly and dizzily past the sheer black side,Watched the fierce wind in sudden flurries whippingThe torn spray from the waves, against the tide;High among stars she saw the mast-head glide,—Steadily now, now swinging slowly, slightly,There the high mast-head lantern burning brightly....
O Youth, O music, O sweet wizardy,—O covering darkness of mysterious night!—She turned; along the dark deck, quietly,He came again; an open door shed lightStrongly across him for a space, then frightSuddenly set her wild heart beating, beating,—Suddenly set her endlessly repeating
“I mustn’t speak! I mustn’t speak!”—And thenHe stood beside her, close and warm and strong,And she knew sudden the beauty that’s in men,And all her blood flew musical with song....“—Beautiful, isn’t it?—Have you known it long?”—Calmly he looked at her, and gently spoke.She nodded, lightly; then the warm words broke
Easily, quickly, fervently from her heart,All the restraint of all her youth was gone,She felt a thousand warm new instincts startOut of her soul, birds taking wing with dawn,Singing their hearts out ... With a deep breath drawn,“Yes! I’ve known it for years, and loved it, too;Beautiful!—This—is this the first for you?”
They talked, in low tones; and the sound of sea,Falling of foam and swish of dropping spray,Encircled them with song, incessantly;—They felt alone, the world seemed far away.They two! they two! so seemed the night to say;A darkness and a stealing fragrance cameSpreading through all their souls, silent as flame....
O beauty of being a living thing, she thought,—Of drawing breath beneath these stars, this sky!—O beautiful fire that from his eyes she caught,That made her breath rise quick, her lips burn dry!What was this thing? Dread came, she scarce knew why,—Impulsively she went; yet she had givenHer word to dine with him, her earth was heaven.
He watched her go, and smiled,—her white dress blowing,Softly in dark,—so young, so sweet, so brave!She was so pure! by God, there was no knowing,—And he had half a mind, still, to behave....No, though: far better take what fortune gave,—Dance to the music that was played for him;Smiling he mused of her, his eyes grew dim,—
And he could feel her warmness by his side,And all his body flushed with sweet desireTo take her shining loveliness for bride,To kiss, to fuse with her in single fire....O youth, O young heart musical as a lyre!O covering darkness of mysterious night!He knew these things; his heart was filled with light....
What was one more? Pah, how he scorned this qualm!Innocent? Such girls seem—but never are.No, he was not her first.... And cold and calmHe turned and sought the brightly-lighted bar....The music rose, through shut doors, faint and far,Wailful.... Down in her stateroom mirror thereA young girl eyed herself, with frightened stare.
She eyed herself with quick breath, frightened stare,The fingers of one hand caught at her throat,And half unconsciously she smoothed her hair....The music called to her, bizarre, remote....On a vast hurrying tide she seemed afloat,Hurrying through a darkness downward ever,Starless, along some subterranean river....Where was she going? Where was the current taking?Vaguely she knew that it would lead to pain,To a dark endless pain her deep heart breaking,To a grey world forever dulled with rain....And yet she knew this would not come again,And all the sweet bliss came imploring, pleading,Melting her soul, bruising her heart to bleeding....O God, she did not know!—Yet future sorrowSeemed somehow paid for by this instant bliss,A brief to-day was worth a long to-morrow;O youth, O night,—this joy she dared not miss!Her whole soul yearned for this young lover’s kiss,Though it be paid for through eternity.O, had not God designed this thing to be?Was not her mouth for this young mouth intended,Since all her living body told her so?Was it not preordained that so be endedA girlhood colder than December snow?A starlight kiss—she need no further go—:His warm hands touching hers: O was this sin?Just this?—She shut her eyes to fires within....To those fierce central fires she closed her eyes,Yet dimly of their passion was aware,And felt their flames like drunkenness ariseWhirling her soul, making life strangely fair....She eyed herself with held breath, frightened stare....Alas, was it the alchemy of sinThat made her lovelier far than e’er she’d been?Plausibly sweet the music came to her,Through many doors, most plausible and sweet,Setting some subtle pulse in her astir,Smoothing in song her heart’s erratic beat.Dizziness came, unstrung her knees, her feet,And she sank down a space upon her bed,Shutting her eyes, mad reelings in her head.How would this end? And would her whole life change,Swayed by this mastering sun as sways the moon?Would all her way of life be new and strange,Her friends be lost, her kin desert her soon?Passion surged up in her, and in its swoonThese doubts were swept aside, obscure and fleeting;Somewhere she heard a beating ... beating ... beating....Was it her heart, the loud pulse in her ear,Or music, some recurring undertone?—The drums perhaps.... She raised her head to hear,The beating ceased.... Only the tireless droneOf toiling engines, and the sea’s hushed moanSoft through the fast-shut port ... and that was all.Steps passed and re-passed down the muffled hall.Steps passed and re-passed on the deck aboveRinging like iron.... The curtains by her bedQuivered forever to the engine’s move,And from the lamp a quivering light was shed.These senseless things, when all her life was dead,Would still go on: steps pass, the curtains quiver,These things or others,—they would last forever.Quickly she rose, and in the mirror’s shineLooked at herself a quiet moment’s space;It was as if the earth’s autumnal wineHad touched her soul,—her body had a graceThat passing life has, lovely was her faceWith a strange loveliness, and in her eyesWas the deep glory of October skies.She was alive! her blood flew warm and young;No more than this she knew, that she was fair;And happiness through her deep heart was sung;Passionate joy as light as flame in air;O youth! O love, oblivious of all care!O lithe swift-blooded youth, O rose of earth,O warm-eyed loveliness of fragrant mirth!—Giddy, with whirling thoughts, she left her room;And down the corridor, with fainting feet,Lightly she went, caught onward to sweet doom,And only heard her heart’s loud tremulous beat;Through opening doors, most plausible, most sweet,The music rose to her; and he stood there,Smiling, in all that noise and whir and glare....Over the shining silver, sparkling glass,The smooth white table-cloth, he leaned and smiled;The whole world vanished, they were lad and lass,In love, and face to face, hearts running wild.Deep in her eyes he looked: O what a child!Her soft breast rose and fell, her throat’s pure whiteBeat with a little pulse of joy and fright.No need to talk.... For in their eyes they met,Treading an air so soft, so light, so fine,That they were speechless, words they could forget;They only smiled, and shyly sipped their wine,And smiled again, and felt their full hearts shine,Talked breathlessly a little, and longed to leanNearer, more near,—till no mote lay between,—Not light or darkness, world or heaven or star,Not wind, nor warm, nor cold ... but just they twoMeeting at last, two spirits come from far,Face raised to face, white flowers made sweet with dew,—Shining and passionate, and young and new,—Their two warm bodies singing each to each,Mingling at last in love’s harmonious speech....The lights, the noise, the tumult passed away;As in a dream without a sound they passed;She only knew that it was wildly gay,And shy, and bliss unbearable.... At lastUnder the high dark starward-gliding mastIn grateful night they sat; he brought her coatAnd trembling wrapped the scarf around her throat;Letting his fingers linger there a space,Longer than there was need, so sweet she smiled,So close they were to that soft wistful face....The stars looked down upon them, clear and mild....Woman and maiden, girl, and little child,—She was all these.... A moment, he was shaken,—Lest he do wrong, lest he might prove mistaken....Only a moment ... passion rose again,Quiet he took her hand and held it long,And all her virgin heart grew big with pain,And all her new-born body ached with song.Blindly she prayed to God to make her strong,—More blindly cried to earth to make her weak;And looked at him, near tears, and could not speak.He was a loveliness she could not bear....Like a fierce furnace seemed his beauty now....A fire that caught her throat, her lips, her hair,Her parching eyes, her pained and beating brow.Only to give herself,—she cared not how.—Into the flame, body and soul to fling;To have him hurt her,—ah, divinest thing!...Four bells were struck: ’twas ten o’clock he said;And still the sea rushed past, under the night.The engines toiled and the great steamer sped;And they could see the bow-wash, dimly white,Fall into darkness; the mast-head lightQuivered among the stars, and in its fireA span of fore-stay shone like golden wire....Little by little they were left alone,The decks were emptied; only, from the bar,Came shouts and laughter, and a drunkard’s groan,The glasses clinking, and a strummed guitar,The door shut, and the sounds grew faint and far,And all the deck was dark; only the seaLifted its great voice, like infinity.O youth, O music, O sweet wizardyOf young love sung like fire through beating veins!O covering darkness and persuasive sea!O night of stars, of blisses and of pains!But most, O youth that but an hour remains,—Be fierce, be sweet with us, before you go;For knowing you the best of life we know!Beneath his kiss her mouth rose soft and warm,And dewy soft as rose-leaves were her eyes,Under his hands, shaken as with a stormHe felt her soft breast fall and shudder and rise,Torn with impassioned breath, unuttered cries,Quivering, straining breast against his breast,She clung to him, her mouth on his mouth pressed....And only knew that this was life at last,Forgot all else in agony of bliss;Into this fire of love all earth was cast;The stars, the sea, were mingled in this kiss.And through her heart the blood, with sing and hiss,Poured a red madness, surged a riotous pain,—Unbearable music cried out in her brain....“O love,” he said, “O let me come with you!I love you so! This night,—O let me come!”Ah, God have pity! she knew not what to do,But sat all quiet,—frozen, shrinking, dumb;And only heard the toiling engines hum,The rush of sea, the swish of dropping spray,Her clamorous heart; and all that she could sayWas a quick “yes,” and then a broken breathThat quivered like a sob; and then she rose,Dizzy and weak and pale, like one near death,And now her heart was fire, and now it froze....Faint in her room she stood; the door to close,—She might still turn the key.... She cried a space,—Long in the glass stared at her pallid face....And heard a step tramp over the deck above,Ringing like iron.... The curtains by her bedQuivered forever to the engine’s move,And from the lamp a quivering light was shed....These things would all go on when she was dead....Trembling, with misty eyes, she loosed the pinUnder her throat ... mad fires whirled up within....Mad fires whirled up, ungulfing all her soul;Beyond the sun and stars, across all space,Power that earth nor heaven could now control,She heard her lover come, with quickening pace;Nowhere to hide! Alas, his shining face,Though she hid under seas would find her there,Though she hid under mountains lay her bare!Across the stars, nearer, more near it came,And now earth shook with it, and now the sea,And her white body, tremulous with shame,From its sheer anguish knew that it was he,—Yearned for this wonder that was soon to be;And all her heart made music for his feet,All of the world re-echoed to their beat....Marriage of youth! And quick a darkness fell,And time and space went down, consumed in fire;Through that dark space, only one breath, to tellThat here was youth, and love, and wild desire:One heart that to itself sang ever higher,Tremulous, passionate, despite all pain,—“How wonderful!—how wonderful!”—again.
She eyed herself with quick breath, frightened stare,The fingers of one hand caught at her throat,And half unconsciously she smoothed her hair....The music called to her, bizarre, remote....On a vast hurrying tide she seemed afloat,Hurrying through a darkness downward ever,Starless, along some subterranean river....Where was she going? Where was the current taking?Vaguely she knew that it would lead to pain,To a dark endless pain her deep heart breaking,To a grey world forever dulled with rain....And yet she knew this would not come again,And all the sweet bliss came imploring, pleading,Melting her soul, bruising her heart to bleeding....O God, she did not know!—Yet future sorrowSeemed somehow paid for by this instant bliss,A brief to-day was worth a long to-morrow;O youth, O night,—this joy she dared not miss!Her whole soul yearned for this young lover’s kiss,Though it be paid for through eternity.O, had not God designed this thing to be?Was not her mouth for this young mouth intended,Since all her living body told her so?Was it not preordained that so be endedA girlhood colder than December snow?A starlight kiss—she need no further go—:His warm hands touching hers: O was this sin?Just this?—She shut her eyes to fires within....To those fierce central fires she closed her eyes,Yet dimly of their passion was aware,And felt their flames like drunkenness ariseWhirling her soul, making life strangely fair....She eyed herself with held breath, frightened stare....Alas, was it the alchemy of sinThat made her lovelier far than e’er she’d been?Plausibly sweet the music came to her,Through many doors, most plausible and sweet,Setting some subtle pulse in her astir,Smoothing in song her heart’s erratic beat.Dizziness came, unstrung her knees, her feet,And she sank down a space upon her bed,Shutting her eyes, mad reelings in her head.How would this end? And would her whole life change,Swayed by this mastering sun as sways the moon?Would all her way of life be new and strange,Her friends be lost, her kin desert her soon?Passion surged up in her, and in its swoonThese doubts were swept aside, obscure and fleeting;Somewhere she heard a beating ... beating ... beating....Was it her heart, the loud pulse in her ear,Or music, some recurring undertone?—The drums perhaps.... She raised her head to hear,The beating ceased.... Only the tireless droneOf toiling engines, and the sea’s hushed moanSoft through the fast-shut port ... and that was all.Steps passed and re-passed down the muffled hall.Steps passed and re-passed on the deck aboveRinging like iron.... The curtains by her bedQuivered forever to the engine’s move,And from the lamp a quivering light was shed.These senseless things, when all her life was dead,Would still go on: steps pass, the curtains quiver,These things or others,—they would last forever.Quickly she rose, and in the mirror’s shineLooked at herself a quiet moment’s space;It was as if the earth’s autumnal wineHad touched her soul,—her body had a graceThat passing life has, lovely was her faceWith a strange loveliness, and in her eyesWas the deep glory of October skies.She was alive! her blood flew warm and young;No more than this she knew, that she was fair;And happiness through her deep heart was sung;Passionate joy as light as flame in air;O youth! O love, oblivious of all care!O lithe swift-blooded youth, O rose of earth,O warm-eyed loveliness of fragrant mirth!—Giddy, with whirling thoughts, she left her room;And down the corridor, with fainting feet,Lightly she went, caught onward to sweet doom,And only heard her heart’s loud tremulous beat;Through opening doors, most plausible, most sweet,The music rose to her; and he stood there,Smiling, in all that noise and whir and glare....Over the shining silver, sparkling glass,The smooth white table-cloth, he leaned and smiled;The whole world vanished, they were lad and lass,In love, and face to face, hearts running wild.Deep in her eyes he looked: O what a child!Her soft breast rose and fell, her throat’s pure whiteBeat with a little pulse of joy and fright.No need to talk.... For in their eyes they met,Treading an air so soft, so light, so fine,That they were speechless, words they could forget;They only smiled, and shyly sipped their wine,And smiled again, and felt their full hearts shine,Talked breathlessly a little, and longed to leanNearer, more near,—till no mote lay between,—Not light or darkness, world or heaven or star,Not wind, nor warm, nor cold ... but just they twoMeeting at last, two spirits come from far,Face raised to face, white flowers made sweet with dew,—Shining and passionate, and young and new,—Their two warm bodies singing each to each,Mingling at last in love’s harmonious speech....The lights, the noise, the tumult passed away;As in a dream without a sound they passed;She only knew that it was wildly gay,And shy, and bliss unbearable.... At lastUnder the high dark starward-gliding mastIn grateful night they sat; he brought her coatAnd trembling wrapped the scarf around her throat;Letting his fingers linger there a space,Longer than there was need, so sweet she smiled,So close they were to that soft wistful face....The stars looked down upon them, clear and mild....Woman and maiden, girl, and little child,—She was all these.... A moment, he was shaken,—Lest he do wrong, lest he might prove mistaken....Only a moment ... passion rose again,Quiet he took her hand and held it long,And all her virgin heart grew big with pain,And all her new-born body ached with song.Blindly she prayed to God to make her strong,—More blindly cried to earth to make her weak;And looked at him, near tears, and could not speak.He was a loveliness she could not bear....Like a fierce furnace seemed his beauty now....A fire that caught her throat, her lips, her hair,Her parching eyes, her pained and beating brow.Only to give herself,—she cared not how.—Into the flame, body and soul to fling;To have him hurt her,—ah, divinest thing!...Four bells were struck: ’twas ten o’clock he said;And still the sea rushed past, under the night.The engines toiled and the great steamer sped;And they could see the bow-wash, dimly white,Fall into darkness; the mast-head lightQuivered among the stars, and in its fireA span of fore-stay shone like golden wire....Little by little they were left alone,The decks were emptied; only, from the bar,Came shouts and laughter, and a drunkard’s groan,The glasses clinking, and a strummed guitar,The door shut, and the sounds grew faint and far,And all the deck was dark; only the seaLifted its great voice, like infinity.O youth, O music, O sweet wizardyOf young love sung like fire through beating veins!O covering darkness and persuasive sea!O night of stars, of blisses and of pains!But most, O youth that but an hour remains,—Be fierce, be sweet with us, before you go;For knowing you the best of life we know!Beneath his kiss her mouth rose soft and warm,And dewy soft as rose-leaves were her eyes,Under his hands, shaken as with a stormHe felt her soft breast fall and shudder and rise,Torn with impassioned breath, unuttered cries,Quivering, straining breast against his breast,She clung to him, her mouth on his mouth pressed....And only knew that this was life at last,Forgot all else in agony of bliss;Into this fire of love all earth was cast;The stars, the sea, were mingled in this kiss.And through her heart the blood, with sing and hiss,Poured a red madness, surged a riotous pain,—Unbearable music cried out in her brain....“O love,” he said, “O let me come with you!I love you so! This night,—O let me come!”Ah, God have pity! she knew not what to do,But sat all quiet,—frozen, shrinking, dumb;And only heard the toiling engines hum,The rush of sea, the swish of dropping spray,Her clamorous heart; and all that she could sayWas a quick “yes,” and then a broken breathThat quivered like a sob; and then she rose,Dizzy and weak and pale, like one near death,And now her heart was fire, and now it froze....Faint in her room she stood; the door to close,—She might still turn the key.... She cried a space,—Long in the glass stared at her pallid face....And heard a step tramp over the deck above,Ringing like iron.... The curtains by her bedQuivered forever to the engine’s move,And from the lamp a quivering light was shed....These things would all go on when she was dead....Trembling, with misty eyes, she loosed the pinUnder her throat ... mad fires whirled up within....Mad fires whirled up, ungulfing all her soul;Beyond the sun and stars, across all space,Power that earth nor heaven could now control,She heard her lover come, with quickening pace;Nowhere to hide! Alas, his shining face,Though she hid under seas would find her there,Though she hid under mountains lay her bare!Across the stars, nearer, more near it came,And now earth shook with it, and now the sea,And her white body, tremulous with shame,From its sheer anguish knew that it was he,—Yearned for this wonder that was soon to be;And all her heart made music for his feet,All of the world re-echoed to their beat....Marriage of youth! And quick a darkness fell,And time and space went down, consumed in fire;Through that dark space, only one breath, to tellThat here was youth, and love, and wild desire:One heart that to itself sang ever higher,Tremulous, passionate, despite all pain,—“How wonderful!—how wonderful!”—again.
She eyed herself with quick breath, frightened stare,The fingers of one hand caught at her throat,And half unconsciously she smoothed her hair....The music called to her, bizarre, remote....On a vast hurrying tide she seemed afloat,Hurrying through a darkness downward ever,Starless, along some subterranean river....
Where was she going? Where was the current taking?Vaguely she knew that it would lead to pain,To a dark endless pain her deep heart breaking,To a grey world forever dulled with rain....And yet she knew this would not come again,And all the sweet bliss came imploring, pleading,Melting her soul, bruising her heart to bleeding....
O God, she did not know!—Yet future sorrowSeemed somehow paid for by this instant bliss,A brief to-day was worth a long to-morrow;O youth, O night,—this joy she dared not miss!Her whole soul yearned for this young lover’s kiss,Though it be paid for through eternity.O, had not God designed this thing to be?
Was not her mouth for this young mouth intended,Since all her living body told her so?Was it not preordained that so be endedA girlhood colder than December snow?A starlight kiss—she need no further go—:His warm hands touching hers: O was this sin?Just this?—She shut her eyes to fires within....
To those fierce central fires she closed her eyes,Yet dimly of their passion was aware,And felt their flames like drunkenness ariseWhirling her soul, making life strangely fair....She eyed herself with held breath, frightened stare....Alas, was it the alchemy of sinThat made her lovelier far than e’er she’d been?
Plausibly sweet the music came to her,Through many doors, most plausible and sweet,Setting some subtle pulse in her astir,Smoothing in song her heart’s erratic beat.Dizziness came, unstrung her knees, her feet,And she sank down a space upon her bed,Shutting her eyes, mad reelings in her head.
How would this end? And would her whole life change,Swayed by this mastering sun as sways the moon?Would all her way of life be new and strange,Her friends be lost, her kin desert her soon?Passion surged up in her, and in its swoonThese doubts were swept aside, obscure and fleeting;Somewhere she heard a beating ... beating ... beating....
Was it her heart, the loud pulse in her ear,Or music, some recurring undertone?—The drums perhaps.... She raised her head to hear,The beating ceased.... Only the tireless droneOf toiling engines, and the sea’s hushed moanSoft through the fast-shut port ... and that was all.Steps passed and re-passed down the muffled hall.
Steps passed and re-passed on the deck aboveRinging like iron.... The curtains by her bedQuivered forever to the engine’s move,And from the lamp a quivering light was shed.These senseless things, when all her life was dead,Would still go on: steps pass, the curtains quiver,These things or others,—they would last forever.
Quickly she rose, and in the mirror’s shineLooked at herself a quiet moment’s space;It was as if the earth’s autumnal wineHad touched her soul,—her body had a graceThat passing life has, lovely was her faceWith a strange loveliness, and in her eyesWas the deep glory of October skies.
She was alive! her blood flew warm and young;No more than this she knew, that she was fair;And happiness through her deep heart was sung;Passionate joy as light as flame in air;O youth! O love, oblivious of all care!O lithe swift-blooded youth, O rose of earth,O warm-eyed loveliness of fragrant mirth!—
Giddy, with whirling thoughts, she left her room;And down the corridor, with fainting feet,Lightly she went, caught onward to sweet doom,And only heard her heart’s loud tremulous beat;Through opening doors, most plausible, most sweet,The music rose to her; and he stood there,Smiling, in all that noise and whir and glare....
Over the shining silver, sparkling glass,The smooth white table-cloth, he leaned and smiled;The whole world vanished, they were lad and lass,In love, and face to face, hearts running wild.Deep in her eyes he looked: O what a child!Her soft breast rose and fell, her throat’s pure whiteBeat with a little pulse of joy and fright.
No need to talk.... For in their eyes they met,Treading an air so soft, so light, so fine,That they were speechless, words they could forget;They only smiled, and shyly sipped their wine,And smiled again, and felt their full hearts shine,Talked breathlessly a little, and longed to leanNearer, more near,—till no mote lay between,—
Not light or darkness, world or heaven or star,Not wind, nor warm, nor cold ... but just they twoMeeting at last, two spirits come from far,Face raised to face, white flowers made sweet with dew,—Shining and passionate, and young and new,—Their two warm bodies singing each to each,Mingling at last in love’s harmonious speech....
The lights, the noise, the tumult passed away;As in a dream without a sound they passed;She only knew that it was wildly gay,And shy, and bliss unbearable.... At lastUnder the high dark starward-gliding mastIn grateful night they sat; he brought her coatAnd trembling wrapped the scarf around her throat;
Letting his fingers linger there a space,Longer than there was need, so sweet she smiled,So close they were to that soft wistful face....The stars looked down upon them, clear and mild....Woman and maiden, girl, and little child,—She was all these.... A moment, he was shaken,—Lest he do wrong, lest he might prove mistaken....
Only a moment ... passion rose again,Quiet he took her hand and held it long,And all her virgin heart grew big with pain,And all her new-born body ached with song.Blindly she prayed to God to make her strong,—More blindly cried to earth to make her weak;And looked at him, near tears, and could not speak.
He was a loveliness she could not bear....Like a fierce furnace seemed his beauty now....A fire that caught her throat, her lips, her hair,Her parching eyes, her pained and beating brow.Only to give herself,—she cared not how.—Into the flame, body and soul to fling;To have him hurt her,—ah, divinest thing!...
Four bells were struck: ’twas ten o’clock he said;And still the sea rushed past, under the night.The engines toiled and the great steamer sped;And they could see the bow-wash, dimly white,Fall into darkness; the mast-head lightQuivered among the stars, and in its fireA span of fore-stay shone like golden wire....
Little by little they were left alone,The decks were emptied; only, from the bar,Came shouts and laughter, and a drunkard’s groan,The glasses clinking, and a strummed guitar,The door shut, and the sounds grew faint and far,And all the deck was dark; only the seaLifted its great voice, like infinity.
O youth, O music, O sweet wizardyOf young love sung like fire through beating veins!O covering darkness and persuasive sea!O night of stars, of blisses and of pains!But most, O youth that but an hour remains,—Be fierce, be sweet with us, before you go;For knowing you the best of life we know!
Beneath his kiss her mouth rose soft and warm,And dewy soft as rose-leaves were her eyes,Under his hands, shaken as with a stormHe felt her soft breast fall and shudder and rise,Torn with impassioned breath, unuttered cries,Quivering, straining breast against his breast,She clung to him, her mouth on his mouth pressed....
And only knew that this was life at last,Forgot all else in agony of bliss;Into this fire of love all earth was cast;The stars, the sea, were mingled in this kiss.And through her heart the blood, with sing and hiss,Poured a red madness, surged a riotous pain,—Unbearable music cried out in her brain....
“O love,” he said, “O let me come with you!I love you so! This night,—O let me come!”Ah, God have pity! she knew not what to do,But sat all quiet,—frozen, shrinking, dumb;And only heard the toiling engines hum,The rush of sea, the swish of dropping spray,Her clamorous heart; and all that she could say
Was a quick “yes,” and then a broken breathThat quivered like a sob; and then she rose,Dizzy and weak and pale, like one near death,And now her heart was fire, and now it froze....Faint in her room she stood; the door to close,—She might still turn the key.... She cried a space,—Long in the glass stared at her pallid face....
And heard a step tramp over the deck above,Ringing like iron.... The curtains by her bedQuivered forever to the engine’s move,And from the lamp a quivering light was shed....These things would all go on when she was dead....Trembling, with misty eyes, she loosed the pinUnder her throat ... mad fires whirled up within....
Mad fires whirled up, ungulfing all her soul;Beyond the sun and stars, across all space,Power that earth nor heaven could now control,She heard her lover come, with quickening pace;Nowhere to hide! Alas, his shining face,Though she hid under seas would find her there,Though she hid under mountains lay her bare!
Across the stars, nearer, more near it came,And now earth shook with it, and now the sea,And her white body, tremulous with shame,From its sheer anguish knew that it was he,—Yearned for this wonder that was soon to be;And all her heart made music for his feet,All of the world re-echoed to their beat....
Marriage of youth! And quick a darkness fell,And time and space went down, consumed in fire;Through that dark space, only one breath, to tellThat here was youth, and love, and wild desire:One heart that to itself sang ever higher,Tremulous, passionate, despite all pain,—“How wonderful!—how wonderful!”—again.
October earth, with scarlet maple-leaf,With oak-leaves brown, with flaming leaves and pale;Mysterious autumn, symbol of all grief,Symbol of lives that die and hopes that fail:Now on the threshing-floor has fallen the flail,The hands are elsewhere that have stored the grain;Now comes the season of snows and bitter rain.Weeks passed.... And then one day there came a noteTo New York for this youth ... he tore and read.It was that girl he played with on the boat....Scarcely three shaky lines ... in which she said,That she was sick with typhoid, nearly dead,—Wanted to say she loved him; then she cried,O God, if he would come before she died!—Loved him!... a blackness fell; and in his eyes,So long unused, and even now ashamed,He felt the warm tears quickening to rise....Loved him!—he had not known.... Could he be blamed?—Then a great light of sorrow in him flamed,—And bitterness, his sight swam quickly dim,—Thinking how little it had meant to him!Scarce knowing why, he packed his things and went....He was surprised, on seeing her, to find how lovelyshe had been, though pale and spent....He sat beside her, striving to be kind,Stroking her forehead.... Yet, she had divined,And known too bitterly, before she died,This man had never loved her, but had lied....And he knew this: he knew that she had known;In her dark eyes he saw the mastered yearning,All the unspoken love that died in moan,Shrunk on itself, through all her body burning....And many days the memory came returningOf her last kiss,—quivering, wet with tears,—Her clinging hands, her brimmed eyes dark with fears....Until at times a sudden terror cameLest, through great pity, he should love one dead,—So burning sweet recurred in him this shame,So haunted him those eyes, that fallen head;The lips that pleaded so, the words she said,—Pathetic words!—these haunted him a space;Then, in the dark of time he lost her face....O Autumn! bringing to old adventures death,Sadness at all things past, things passing still,—You touched this love with strange and dreadful breath;Easy as leaf is human love to chill,—Easy as leaf is human to kill;Yet beautiful is that death with sudden flame,Ere it goes down to darkness, whence it came!...
October earth, with scarlet maple-leaf,With oak-leaves brown, with flaming leaves and pale;Mysterious autumn, symbol of all grief,Symbol of lives that die and hopes that fail:Now on the threshing-floor has fallen the flail,The hands are elsewhere that have stored the grain;Now comes the season of snows and bitter rain.Weeks passed.... And then one day there came a noteTo New York for this youth ... he tore and read.It was that girl he played with on the boat....Scarcely three shaky lines ... in which she said,That she was sick with typhoid, nearly dead,—Wanted to say she loved him; then she cried,O God, if he would come before she died!—Loved him!... a blackness fell; and in his eyes,So long unused, and even now ashamed,He felt the warm tears quickening to rise....Loved him!—he had not known.... Could he be blamed?—Then a great light of sorrow in him flamed,—And bitterness, his sight swam quickly dim,—Thinking how little it had meant to him!Scarce knowing why, he packed his things and went....He was surprised, on seeing her, to find how lovelyshe had been, though pale and spent....He sat beside her, striving to be kind,Stroking her forehead.... Yet, she had divined,And known too bitterly, before she died,This man had never loved her, but had lied....And he knew this: he knew that she had known;In her dark eyes he saw the mastered yearning,All the unspoken love that died in moan,Shrunk on itself, through all her body burning....And many days the memory came returningOf her last kiss,—quivering, wet with tears,—Her clinging hands, her brimmed eyes dark with fears....Until at times a sudden terror cameLest, through great pity, he should love one dead,—So burning sweet recurred in him this shame,So haunted him those eyes, that fallen head;The lips that pleaded so, the words she said,—Pathetic words!—these haunted him a space;Then, in the dark of time he lost her face....O Autumn! bringing to old adventures death,Sadness at all things past, things passing still,—You touched this love with strange and dreadful breath;Easy as leaf is human love to chill,—Easy as leaf is human to kill;Yet beautiful is that death with sudden flame,Ere it goes down to darkness, whence it came!...
October earth, with scarlet maple-leaf,With oak-leaves brown, with flaming leaves and pale;Mysterious autumn, symbol of all grief,Symbol of lives that die and hopes that fail:Now on the threshing-floor has fallen the flail,The hands are elsewhere that have stored the grain;Now comes the season of snows and bitter rain.
Weeks passed.... And then one day there came a noteTo New York for this youth ... he tore and read.It was that girl he played with on the boat....Scarcely three shaky lines ... in which she said,That she was sick with typhoid, nearly dead,—Wanted to say she loved him; then she cried,O God, if he would come before she died!—
Loved him!... a blackness fell; and in his eyes,So long unused, and even now ashamed,He felt the warm tears quickening to rise....Loved him!—he had not known.... Could he be blamed?—Then a great light of sorrow in him flamed,—And bitterness, his sight swam quickly dim,—Thinking how little it had meant to him!
Scarce knowing why, he packed his things and went....He was surprised, on seeing her, to find how lovelyshe had been, though pale and spent....He sat beside her, striving to be kind,Stroking her forehead.... Yet, she had divined,And known too bitterly, before she died,This man had never loved her, but had lied....
And he knew this: he knew that she had known;In her dark eyes he saw the mastered yearning,All the unspoken love that died in moan,Shrunk on itself, through all her body burning....And many days the memory came returningOf her last kiss,—quivering, wet with tears,—Her clinging hands, her brimmed eyes dark with fears....
Until at times a sudden terror cameLest, through great pity, he should love one dead,—So burning sweet recurred in him this shame,So haunted him those eyes, that fallen head;The lips that pleaded so, the words she said,—Pathetic words!—these haunted him a space;Then, in the dark of time he lost her face....
O Autumn! bringing to old adventures death,Sadness at all things past, things passing still,—You touched this love with strange and dreadful breath;Easy as leaf is human love to chill,—Easy as leaf is human to kill;Yet beautiful is that death with sudden flame,Ere it goes down to darkness, whence it came!...
The Poetry JournalConrad Aiken
If you should cease to love me, tell me so!I could not bear to feel your ardent handThat waked the chords of life to understand,Hold mine less closely; no, belovèd, no;If you should cease to love me, tell me so!If you should cease to love me, do not dareTo meet me with a masque of tenderness;I could not stoop to suffer one caressThat any other had the right to share,—If you should cease to love me, do not dare!If you should cease to love me, do not fear—I would not have you think I made one claim.If your great love should pass, there is no blame;For love grown cold, I would not shed a tear;—If you should cease to love me, do not fear!If you should cease to love me, let us part,As friends who part for all eternity;Let us make grave the reverent obsequyFor what was once our very soul and heart—If you should cease to love me, let us part!But while you love me, keep our hearts’ deep faithAs some High Priest would guard the holy place;Let me not see the shame upon your faceOf one unworthy of Love’s vital breath,So while you love me, keep our hearts’ high faith!Thus, if you cease to love me, save my soulBy having kept our love so pure and highThat if the time must come when it shall die,I may retain my treasure fair and whole,—If you should cease to love me,—save my soul!
If you should cease to love me, tell me so!I could not bear to feel your ardent handThat waked the chords of life to understand,Hold mine less closely; no, belovèd, no;If you should cease to love me, tell me so!If you should cease to love me, do not dareTo meet me with a masque of tenderness;I could not stoop to suffer one caressThat any other had the right to share,—If you should cease to love me, do not dare!If you should cease to love me, do not fear—I would not have you think I made one claim.If your great love should pass, there is no blame;For love grown cold, I would not shed a tear;—If you should cease to love me, do not fear!If you should cease to love me, let us part,As friends who part for all eternity;Let us make grave the reverent obsequyFor what was once our very soul and heart—If you should cease to love me, let us part!But while you love me, keep our hearts’ deep faithAs some High Priest would guard the holy place;Let me not see the shame upon your faceOf one unworthy of Love’s vital breath,So while you love me, keep our hearts’ high faith!Thus, if you cease to love me, save my soulBy having kept our love so pure and highThat if the time must come when it shall die,I may retain my treasure fair and whole,—If you should cease to love me,—save my soul!
If you should cease to love me, tell me so!I could not bear to feel your ardent handThat waked the chords of life to understand,Hold mine less closely; no, belovèd, no;If you should cease to love me, tell me so!
If you should cease to love me, do not dareTo meet me with a masque of tenderness;I could not stoop to suffer one caressThat any other had the right to share,—If you should cease to love me, do not dare!
If you should cease to love me, do not fear—I would not have you think I made one claim.If your great love should pass, there is no blame;For love grown cold, I would not shed a tear;—If you should cease to love me, do not fear!
If you should cease to love me, let us part,As friends who part for all eternity;Let us make grave the reverent obsequyFor what was once our very soul and heart—If you should cease to love me, let us part!
But while you love me, keep our hearts’ deep faithAs some High Priest would guard the holy place;Let me not see the shame upon your faceOf one unworthy of Love’s vital breath,So while you love me, keep our hearts’ high faith!
Thus, if you cease to love me, save my soulBy having kept our love so pure and highThat if the time must come when it shall die,I may retain my treasure fair and whole,—If you should cease to love me,—save my soul!
Scribner’sCorinne Roosevelt Robinson
Be patient, Life, when Love is at the gate,And when he enters let him be at home.Think of the roads that he has had to roam,Think of the years that he has had to wait.But if I let Love in I shall be late.Another has come first, there is no room;And I am busy at the thoughtful loom;Let Love be patient, the importunate.O Life, be idle, and let Love come in,And give thy dreamy hair that Love may spin.But Love himself is idle with his song.Let Love come last, and then may Love last long.Be patient, Life, for Love is not the last;Be patient now with Death, for Love has passed.
Be patient, Life, when Love is at the gate,And when he enters let him be at home.Think of the roads that he has had to roam,Think of the years that he has had to wait.But if I let Love in I shall be late.Another has come first, there is no room;And I am busy at the thoughtful loom;Let Love be patient, the importunate.O Life, be idle, and let Love come in,And give thy dreamy hair that Love may spin.But Love himself is idle with his song.Let Love come last, and then may Love last long.Be patient, Life, for Love is not the last;Be patient now with Death, for Love has passed.
Be patient, Life, when Love is at the gate,And when he enters let him be at home.Think of the roads that he has had to roam,Think of the years that he has had to wait.
But if I let Love in I shall be late.Another has come first, there is no room;And I am busy at the thoughtful loom;Let Love be patient, the importunate.
O Life, be idle, and let Love come in,And give thy dreamy hair that Love may spin.
But Love himself is idle with his song.Let Love come last, and then may Love last long.
Be patient, Life, for Love is not the last;Be patient now with Death, for Love has passed.
The TrendWalter Conrad Arensberg
You mean, my friend, you do not greatly careFor these harsh portraits I have lately done?You like my old style better,—like the rareEnamelled softness of that princess-one?True, this old woman, with the sunken throatPainted like cordage, is not sweet to view.Perhaps the blear whites of her eyes connoteNo element of loveliness to you.Ah yes, we all must love the sapphire lake,The rainbow, and the rose,—but these alone?Or is there some slight wonder where pines shakeOn bare-ribbed mountain-peaks of shattered stone?So these disturb? I fear this is the endOf days when I shall please your taste, my friend.
You mean, my friend, you do not greatly careFor these harsh portraits I have lately done?You like my old style better,—like the rareEnamelled softness of that princess-one?True, this old woman, with the sunken throatPainted like cordage, is not sweet to view.Perhaps the blear whites of her eyes connoteNo element of loveliness to you.Ah yes, we all must love the sapphire lake,The rainbow, and the rose,—but these alone?Or is there some slight wonder where pines shakeOn bare-ribbed mountain-peaks of shattered stone?So these disturb? I fear this is the endOf days when I shall please your taste, my friend.
You mean, my friend, you do not greatly careFor these harsh portraits I have lately done?You like my old style better,—like the rareEnamelled softness of that princess-one?True, this old woman, with the sunken throatPainted like cordage, is not sweet to view.Perhaps the blear whites of her eyes connoteNo element of loveliness to you.Ah yes, we all must love the sapphire lake,The rainbow, and the rose,—but these alone?Or is there some slight wonder where pines shakeOn bare-ribbed mountain-peaks of shattered stone?So these disturb? I fear this is the endOf days when I shall please your taste, my friend.
The ForumArthur Davison Ficke
You know deep in your heart, it could not last—And, when a wind, newborn on some hillside—(Some fair tall hill the other side of Crete)Came laden with the dear and odorous past—(Laden with scents of gardens that have died,Buried in dust, not any longer sweet.)Then, realized, all the unlovely yearsLay on your heart, like those old gardens’ dust;You had forgotten how your life was fair,For all the memories were dulled with tearsSince shed, and unsuspected moth and rustAte deep, and naught remembered was but care.So is your treasure lost, vanished away—Nothing but wind and half-shut eyes and grass—Nothing of now but strivings after then.And naught heard in the clear air of to-dayBut dusty wings that crumble as they pass—You have not strength to make them live again.
You know deep in your heart, it could not last—And, when a wind, newborn on some hillside—(Some fair tall hill the other side of Crete)Came laden with the dear and odorous past—(Laden with scents of gardens that have died,Buried in dust, not any longer sweet.)Then, realized, all the unlovely yearsLay on your heart, like those old gardens’ dust;You had forgotten how your life was fair,For all the memories were dulled with tearsSince shed, and unsuspected moth and rustAte deep, and naught remembered was but care.So is your treasure lost, vanished away—Nothing but wind and half-shut eyes and grass—Nothing of now but strivings after then.And naught heard in the clear air of to-dayBut dusty wings that crumble as they pass—You have not strength to make them live again.
You know deep in your heart, it could not last—And, when a wind, newborn on some hillside—(Some fair tall hill the other side of Crete)Came laden with the dear and odorous past—(Laden with scents of gardens that have died,Buried in dust, not any longer sweet.)
Then, realized, all the unlovely yearsLay on your heart, like those old gardens’ dust;You had forgotten how your life was fair,For all the memories were dulled with tearsSince shed, and unsuspected moth and rustAte deep, and naught remembered was but care.
So is your treasure lost, vanished away—Nothing but wind and half-shut eyes and grass—Nothing of now but strivings after then.And naught heard in the clear air of to-dayBut dusty wings that crumble as they pass—You have not strength to make them live again.
The MassesLydia Gibson