Many Voices | Page 5

at least could
neither be nor seem -
Oh, then, indeed, I knew it was a dream!
POEM: THE DECEMBER ROSE
Here's a rose that blows for Chloe,
Fair as ever a rose in June was,

Now the garden's silent, snowy,
Where the burning summer noon
was.
In your garden's summer glory
One poor corner, shelved and shady,

Told no rosy, radiant story,
Grew no rose to grace its lady.

What shuts sun out shuts out snow too;
From his nook your secret
lover
Shows what slighted roses grow to
When the rose you chose
is over.
POEM: THE FIRE
I was picking raspberries, my head was in the canes,
And he came
behind and kissed me, and I smacked him for his pains. Says he, "You
take it easy! That ain't the way to do!
I love you hot as fire, my girl,
and you know you know it too. So won't you name the day?"
But I
said, "That I will not."
And I pushed him away,
Out among the
raspberries all on a summer day.
And I says, "You ask in winter, if
your love's so hot,
For it's summer now, and sunny, and my hands is
full," says I, "With the fair by and by,
And the village dance and all;

And the turkey poults is small,
And so's the ducks and chicks,

And the hay not yet in ricks,
And the flower-show'll be presently and
hop-picking's to come, And the fruiting and the harvest home,
And
my new white gown to make, and the jam all to be done.
Can't you
leave a girl alone?
Your love's too hot for me!
Can't you leave a girl
be
Till the evenings do draw in,
Till the leaves be getting thin,

Till the fires be lighted early, and the curtains drawed for tea? That's
the time to do your courting, if you come a-courting me!"
0. * *
And he took it as I said it, an' not as it was meant.
And he went.
0. * *
The hay was stacked, the fruit was picked, the hops were dry and
brown,
And everything was garnered, and the year turned upside
down, And the winter it come on, and the fires were early lit,
And
he'd never come anigh again, and all my life was sick.
And I was cold
alone, with nought to do but sit
With my hands in my black lap, and
hear the clock tick.
For father, he lay dead
With the candles at his
head,
And his coffin was that black I could see it through the wall;
And I'd sent them all away,
Though they'd offered for to stay.
I

wanted to be cold alone, and learn to bear it all.
Then I heard him. I'd
a-known it for his footstep just as plain If he'd brought his regiment
with him up the rutty frozen lane. And I hadn't drawed the curtains, and
I see him through the pane; And I jumped up in my blacks and I threw
the door back wide. Says I, "You come inside;
For it's cold outside
for you,
And it's cold here too;
And I haven't no more pride -
It's
too cold for that," I cried.
0. * *
Then I saw in his face
The fear of death, and desire.
And oh, I took
and kissed him again and again,
And I clipped him close and all,
In
the winter, in the dusk, in the quiet house-place,
With the coffin lying
black and full the other side the wall; And "YOU warm my heart," I
told him, "if there's any fire in men!" And he got his two arms round
me, and I felt the fire then. And I warmed my heart at the fire.
POEM: SONG
Now the Spring is waking,
Very shy as yet,
Busy mending, making

Grass and violet.
Frowsy Winter's over:
See the budding lane!

Go and meet your lover:
Spring is here again!
Every day is longer
Than the day before;
Lambs are whiter,
stronger,
Birds sing more and more;
Woods are less than shady,

Griefs are more than vain -
Go and kiss your lady:
Spring is here
again!
POEM: A PARTING
So good-bye!
This is where we end it, you and I.
Life's to live, you
know, and death's to die;
So good-bye!
I was yours
For the love in life that loves while life endures,
For the
earth-path that the Heaven-flight ensures
I was yours.
You were mine
For the moment that a garland takes to twine,
For

the human hour that sorcery shews divine
You were mine.
All is over.
You and I no more are love and lover;
Nought's to seek
now, gain, attain, discover.
All is over.
POEM: THE GIFT OF LIFE
Life is a night all dark and wild,
Yet still stars shine:
This moment
is a star, my child -
Your star and mine.
Life is a desert dry and drear,
Undewed, unblest;
This hour is an
oasis, dear;
Here let us rest.
Life is a sea of windy spray,
Cold, fierce and free:
An isle
enchanted is to-day
For you and me.
Forget night, sea, and desert: take
The gift supreme,
And, of life's
brief relenting, make
A deathless dream.
POEM: INCOMPATIBILITIES
If you loved me I could trust