Fly Leaves | Page 8

of sixty too.?Still I love thee dearly!
Thou hast lands and pelf:?But I love thee merely
Merely for thyself.
Wilt thou love me, fairest?
Though thou art not fair;?And I think thou wearest
Someone-else's hair.?Thou could'st love, though, dearly:
And, as I am told,?Thou art very nearly
Worth thy weight, in gold.
Dost thou love me, sweet one?
Tell me that thou dost!?Women fairly beat one,
But I think thou must.?Thou art loved so dearly:
I am plain, but then?Thou (to speak sincerely)
Art as plain again.
Love me, bashful fairy!
I've an empty purse:?And I've "moods," which vary;
Mostly for the worse.?Still, I love thee dearly:
Though I make (I feel)?Love a little queerly,
I'm as true as steel.
Love me, swear to love me
(As, you know, they do)?By yon heaven above me
And its changeless blue.?Love me, lady, dearly,
If you'll be so good;?Though I don't see clearly
On what ground you should.
Love me--ah or love me
Not, but be my bride!?Do not simply shove me
(So to speak) aside!?P'raps it would be dearly
Purchased at the price;?But a hundred yearly
Would be very nice.
THOUGHTS AT A RAILWAY STATION.
'Tis but a box, of modest deal;
Directed to no matter where:?Yet down my cheek the teardrops steal -?Yes, I am blubbering like a seal;?For on it is this mute appeal,
"With care."
I am a stern cold man, and range
Apart: but those vague words "With care"?Wake yearnings in me sweet as strange:?Drawn from my moral Moated Grange,?I feel I rather like the change
Of air.
Hast thou ne'er seen rough pointsmen spy
Some simple English phrase--"With care"?Or "This side uppermost"--and cry?Like children? No? No more have I.?Yet deem not him whose eyes are dry
A bear.
But ah! what treasure hides beneath
That lid so much the worse for wear??A ring perhaps--a rosy wreath -?A photograph by Vernon Heath -?Some matron's temporary teeth
Or hair!
Perhaps some seaman, in Peru
Or Ind, hath stow'd herein a rare?Cargo of birds' eggs for his Sue;?With many a vow that he'll be true,?And many a hint that she is too,
Too fair.
Perhaps--but wherefore vainly pry
Into the page that's folded there??I shall be better by and by:?The porters, as I sit and sigh,?Pass and repass--I wonder why
They stare!
ON THE BRINK.
I watch'd her as she stoop'd to pluck
A wildflower in her hair to twine;?And wish'd that it had been my luck
To call her mine.
Anon I heard her rate with mad
Mad words her babe within its cot;?And felt particularly glad
That it had not.
I knew (such subtle brains have men)
That she was uttering what she shouldn't;?And thought that I would chide, and then
I thought I wouldn't:
Who could have gazed upon that face,
Those pouting coral lips, and chided??A Rhadamanthus, in my place,
Had done as I did:
For ire wherewith our bosoms glow
Is chain'd there oft by Beauty's spell;?And, more than that, I did not know
The widow well.
So the harsh phrase pass'd unreproved.
Still mute--(O brothers, was it sin?) -?I drank, unutterably moved,
Her beauty in:
And to myself I murmur'd low,
As on her upturn'd face and dress?The moonlight fell, "Would she say No,
By chance, or Yes?"
She stood so calm, so like a ghost
Betwixt me and that magic moon,?That I already was almost
A finish'd coon.
But when she caught adroitly up
And soothed with smiles her little daughter;?And gave it, if I'm right, a sup
Of barley-water;
And, crooning still the strange sweet lore
Which only mothers' tongues can utter,?Snow'd with deft hand the sugar o'er
Its bread and butter;
And kiss'd it clingingly--(Ah, why
Don't women do these things in private?) -?I felt that if I lost her, I
Should not survive it:
And from my mouth the words nigh flew -
The past, the future, I forgat 'em:?"Oh! if you'd kiss me as you do
That thankless atom!"
But this thought came ere yet I spake,
And froze the sentence on my lips:?"They err, who marry wives that make
Those little slips."
It came like some familiar rhyme,
Some copy to my boyhood set;?And that's perhaps the reason I'm
Unmarried yet.
Would she have own'd how pleased she was,
And told her love with widow's pride??I never found out that, because
I never tried.
Be kind to babes and beasts and birds:
Hearts may be hard, though lips are coral;?And angry words are angry words:
And that's the moral.
"FOREVER."
Forever; 'tis a single word!
Our rude forefathers deem'd it two:?Can you imagine so absurd
A view?
Forever! What abysms of woe
The word reveals, what frenzy, what?Despair! For ever (printed so)
Did not.
It looks, ah me! how trite and tame!
It fails to sadden or appal?Or solace--it is not the same
At all.
O thou to whom it first occurr'd
To solder the disjoin'd, and dower?Thy native language with a word
Of power:
We bless thee! Whether far or near
Thy dwelling, whether dark or fair?Thy kingly brow, is neither here
Nor there.
But in men's hearts shall be thy throne,
While the great pulse of England beats:?Thou coiner of a word unknown
To Keats!
And nevermore must printer do
As men did long ago; but run?"For" into "ever," bidding two
Be one.
Forever! passion-fraught, it throws
O'er the dim page a gloom, a glamour:?It's sweet, it's strange; and I suppose
It's grammar.
Forever! 'Tis a single word!
And yet our fathers deem'd it two:?Nor am I