A Womans Love Letters | Page 4

when I sleep) with portals wide?And shining towers, gleams on the farther side.
Song.
"Tshirr!" scolds the oriole?Where the elms stir,?Flaunting her gourd-like nest?On the tree's swaying crest:?"May's here, I cannot rest,?Go away; tshirr!"
"Tshirr!" scolds the oriole?Where the leaves blur,?Giving her threads a jerk,?Spying where rivals lurk,?"May's here, and I'm at work.?Go away, tshirr!"
Misunderstanding.
Spring's face is wreathed in smiles. She had been driven Hither and thither at the surly will?Of treacherous winds till her sweet heart was chill.?Into her grasp the sceptre has been given?And now she touches with a proud young hand?The earth, and turns to blossoms all the land.
We catch the smile, the joyousness, the pride,?And share them with her. Surely winter gloom?Is for the old, and frost is for the tomb.?Youth must have pleasure, and the tremulous tide?Of sun-kissed waves, and all the golden fire?Of Summer's noontide splendor of desire.
I have forgotten,--for the breath of buds?Is on my temples, if in former days?I have known sorrow; I remember praise,?And calm content, and joy's great ocean-floods,?And many dreams so sweet that, in their place,?We would not welcome even Truth's fair face.
O Man to whom my heart hast leaned, dost know?Aught of my life? Sometimes a strong despair?Enters my soul and finds a lodging there;?Thou dost not know me, and the years will go?As these last months have gone, and I shall be?Still far, still a strange woman unto thee.
I do not blame thee. If there is a fault?Let it be mine, for surely had I tried?The door of my heart's home to open wide?No need had been for even Love's assault.?And yet, methinks, somewhere there is a key?Thou mightest have found, and entered happily.
I am no saint niched in a hallowed wall?For men to worship, but I would compel?A level gaze. You teachers who would tell?A woman's place I do defy you all!?While justice lives, and love with joy is crowned?Woman and man must meet on equal ground.
The deepest wrong is falsehood. She who sells?Her soul and body for a little gain?In ease, or the world's notice, has a stain?Upon her soul no lighter for the bells?Of marriage rites, and purer far is she?Who gives her all for love's sad ecstasy.
Canst thou not understand a nature strong?And passionate, with impulses that sway,?With yearning tenderness that must have way,?Yet knows no ill desire, no touch of wrong??If thou canst not then in God's name I pray?See me no more forever from this day.
Shadow Song.
The night is long?And there are no stars,--?Let me but dream?That the long fields gleam?With sunlight and song,?Then I shall not long?For the light of stars.
Let me but dream,--?For there are no stars,--?Dream that the ache?And the wild heart-break?Are but things that seem.?Ah! let me dream?For there are no stars.
Revulsion.
I see the starting buds, I catch the gleam?In the near distance of a sun-kissed pool,?The blessed April air blows soft and cool,?Small wonder if all sorrow grows a dream,?And we forget that close around us lie?A city's poor, a city's misery.
Of every outward vision there is some?Internal counterpart. To-day I know?The blessedness of living, and the glow?Of life's dear spring-tide. I can bid thee come?In thought and wander where the fields are fair?With bursting life, and I, rejoicing, there.
Yet have I passed, Beloved, through the vale?Of dark dismay, and felt the dews of death?Upon my brow, have measured out my breath?Counting my hours of joy, as misers quail?At every footfall in the quiet night?And clutch their gold and count it in affright.
I learned new lessons in that school of fear,?Life took a fresh perspective; sad and brave?The view is from the threshold of the grave.?In that long, backward glance I saw her clear?From fogs of gathering night, and all the show?Of small things that seemed great a while ago.
Our dreams of fame, the stubborn power we call?Our self-respect, our hopes of worldly good,?Our jealousies and fears, how in the flood?Of this new light they faded, poor and small;?Showing our pettiness beside God's truth,?Besides His age our poor, unlearned youth.
The earth yearns forth, impatient for the days?Of its maturity, the ample sweets?Of Summer's fulness; and its great heart beats?With a fierce restlessness, for Spring delays?Seeing her giddy reign end all too soon,?Her bud-crown ravished by the hand of June.
And I,--I shall be happy,--promise me?This one small thing, Beloved, for I long?For happiness as the caged bird for song.?Not where four walls close in the melody?I want the fresh, sweet air, the water's gush,?The strong, sane life with thee, the summer hush.
A Song of Dawn.
In the east a lightening;?Where the woods are chill?Moves an unseen finger,?Wakes a sudden thrill;
In my soul a glimmer,?Hush! no words are heard!?In heart-ambush hidden?Chirrup of a bird;
Tremble heart and forest?Like a frightened fawn,?Gleam the distant tree-tops,?Hither comes the dawn!
Weariness.
This April sun has wakened into cheer?The wintry paths of thought, and tinged with gold?These threadbare leaves