English

Come, with thine old-time witcheries of life,
Oh, thou full-breasted mother, hasten thee,
Lest on some winter-weary sense there fall
Too late thy rose, and humming of thy bee!

So late thou art! through many pulsing days
We heard thy tread in heart of earth and tree,
And felt thy breath until each leafing vine
Yearned for thy sensuous touch to make it free.

Through barren months, all bleak and cold and gray,
We watched, like children through the muffled pane,
A tender signal from a beckoning hand,

You came,
The tapestries of love
Were shining in the sun,
My wishes settled down content
About you as you stood.
I looked into your cryptic eyes
And thought I understood;
But no, —
The splendor of your gaudy robe
Grew dimmer day by day,
I wondered,
Searched within my soul to seize the mystery.
The answer staggered me,
Aghast,
Like one at bay,
I gazed with open eyes of thought upon you,
God! 'twas true —
A mockery, a parody,
Had come to me — in you!

I fear my power impotent
To hold you leal and full content,
Some hapless look or word perchance
Dispels the glamour of romance;
I tremble lest some stranger fair
Arrest you, — cause you to compare
The meagre charms which I possess
With some resplendent loveliness.

How far removed from Youth's command
The trembling sceptre in my hand,
As miserly within the glass
I mark Love's fleeting hours pass.

I

PLANTING

Wild plum blossoms on the roadside,
Peach blows on the waking boughs;
Daring whistlers trying pipe notes
Far above the resting plows.

Partridge calling in the woodland,
Budding willow, whispering reed,
Bordering the fallow furrow,
Waiting for the cotton seed.

Strong and black the droning negroes,
Following the even drills,
Flinging out the seed of promise
To the idle, sleepy mills.

Love a-bud with other flowers,

I have come back, oh! first love, love to thee,
Behind thy trellised vine thy lute's soft tone
Speaks to my soul, — my fingers seek thine own, —
Oh! golden hearted, love-kissed Poesy.

I have come back, thy lowly one to be, —
Lend thou thine ear to hear my fretful moan;
I asked for bread, the hard world gave a stone, —
Cold was the pulse of life by land and sea.

I have come back, — breathe on my taper, love, —
The spark died not, it only smouldered low;
I could not keep the white flame free from doubt,

Day by day the threads of white
Multiply, Oh! hour-glass!
How passing swift your bright sands pass,
Fain would I hold you,
Linger, bide
Until these surges shall subside,
That sweep me forward unto bliss,
Oh! charging sun, I bid you rest,
Break not your arrow in my breast!

I heard the song of the mermaid pause,
And sigh on the golden strand,
Then I rolled from the edge of the rocky ledge —
A hard, white grain of sand.

I danced on the comb of the salty spray,
And gleamed in the sun like a star,
Then I dropped in the mystical caves of the deep,
When the tide crept out from the bar.

And I sighed for the happy day that was dead,
On the leaf of the seaweed's bloom,
And I hardened my heart and ground my spear
In the woe of my watery gloom.

( " Si vous continuez toute pâle. " )

If you continue thus so wan and white;
If I, one day, behold
You pass from out our dull air to the light,
You, infant — I, so old:
If I the thread of our two lives must see
Thus blent to human view,
I who would fain know death was near to me,
And far away for you;
If your small hands remain such fragile things;
If, in your cradle stirred,

The days lie dark between our jeweled meetings
Like wintry burials.

My heart bows low before the cheerless hearth
Until your voice rings through the gloom
And bids me
Wake!

Where'er thou art, my heart shall know thy tone,
As silent string will feel the tensioned bow;
Whether in sunshine or in shade, alone,
Thy soul shall speak mine, and my soul will know.

For we have plucked the golden Eden tree,
Where tempter never breathed, nor woman fell;
Together joy has come to you and me, —
Together we have drained the lees of hell.

Where'er thou art, thy string the chord must give
Unto the bow, that is my quivering soul;
Dark comes, life fades, but Love, ah! God! shall live,