Poems of Passion | Page 6

wear
that face of sorrow?
The sunshine is to-day's, although it shone
On
yesterday, and may shine on to-morrow.

I love but thee, my Guilo! be content;
The greediest heart can claim
but present pleasure.
The future is thy God's. The past is spent.

To-day is thine; clasp close the precious treasure.
See how I love thee, Guilo! Lips and eyes
Could never under thy
fond gaze dissemble.
I could not feign these passion-laden sighs;

Deceiving thee, my pulses would not tremble.
"So I loved Romney." Hush, thou foolish one--
I should forget him
wholly wouldst thou let me;
Or but remember that his day was done

From that supremest hour when first I met thee.
"And Paul?" Well, what of Paul? Paul had blue eyes,
And Romney
gray, and thine are darkly tender!
One finds fresh feelings under
change of skies--
A new horizon brings a newer splendor.
As I love thee I never loved before;
Believe me, Guilo, for I speak
most truly.
What though to Romney and to Paul I swore
The
self-same words; my heart now worships newly.
We never feel the same emotion twice:
No two ships ever ploughed
the self-same billow;
The waters change with every fall and rise;
So,
Guilo, go contented to thy pillow.
THE DUET.
I was smoking a cigarette;
Maud, my wife, and the tenor, McKey,

Were singing together a blithe duet,
And days it were better I should
forget
Came suddenly back to me--
Days when life seemed a gay
masque ball,
And to love and be loved was the sum of it all.
As they sang together, the whole scene fled,
The room's rich hangings,
the sweet home air,
Stately Maud, with her proud blond head,
And I
seemed to see in her place instead
A wealth of blue-black hair,
And
a face, ah! your face--yours, Lisette;
A face it were wiser I should

forget.
We were back--well, no matter when or where;
But you remember, I
know, Lisette.
I saw you, dainty and debonair,
With the very same
look that you used to wear
In the days I should forget.
And your
lips, as red as the vintage we quaffed,
Were pearl-edged bumpers of
wine when you laughed.
Two small slippers with big rosettes
Peeped out under your kilt skirt
there,
While we sat smoking our cigarettes
(Oh, I shall be dust
when my heart forgets')
And singing that self-same an,
And
between the verses, for interlude,
I kissed your throat and your
shoulders nude.
You were so full of a subtle file,
You were so warm and so sweet,
Lisette;
You were everything men admire,
And there were no
fetters to make us tire,
For you were--a pretty grisette.
But you
loved, as only such natures can,
With a love that makes heaven or
hell for a man.

They have ceased singing that old duet,
Stately Maud and the tenor,
McKey.
"You are burning your coat with your cigarette,
And qu'
avez vous, dearest, your lids are wet,"
Maud says, as she leans o'er me.

And I smile, and lie to her, husband-wise,
"Oh, it is nothing but
smoke in my eyes."
[Illustration: "I LOVE THEE; THEE ALONE"]
[Illustration:]
LITTLE QUEEN.
Do you remember the name I wore--
The old pet-name of Little
Queen--
In the dear, dead days that are no more,
The happiest days

of our lives, I ween?
For we loved with that passionate love of youth

That blesses but once with its perfect bliss--
A love that, in spite of
its trust and truth,
Seems never to thrive in a world like this.
I lived for you, and you lived for me;
All was centered in "Little
Queen;"
And never a thought in our hearts had we
That strife or
trouble could come between.
What utter sinking of self it was!
How
little we cared for the world of men!
For love's fair kingdom and
love's sweet laws
Were all of the world and life to us then.
But a love like ours was a challenge to Fate;
She rang down the
curtain and shifted the scene;
Yet sometimes now, when the day
grows late,
I can hear you calling for Little Queen;
For a happy
home and a busy life
Can never wholly crowd out our past;
In the
twilight pauses that come from strife,
You will think of me while life
shall last.
And however sweet the voice of fame
May sing to me of a great
world's praise,
I shall long sometimes for the old pet-name
That you
gave to me in the dear, dead days;
And nothing the angel band can
say,
When I reach the shores of the great Unseen,
Can please me so
much as on that day
To hear your greeting of "Little Queen."
[Illustration: "THAT BLESSES BUT ONCE WITH ITS PERFECT
BLISS"]
WHEREFORE?
Wherefore in dreams are sorrows borne anew,
A healed wound
opened, or the past revived?
Last night in my deep sleep I dreamed of
you;
Again the old love woke in me, and thrived
On looks of fire,
and kisses, and sweet words
Like silver waters purling in a stream,

Or like the amorous melodies of birds:
A dream--a dream!

Again upon the glory of the scene
There settled that dread shadow of
the cross
That, when hearts love too well, falls in between;
That
warns them