The Kingdom of Love | Page 8

gave us our boy.
Now you could not blot that beginning
So beautiful, pure and true,
With a record of wicked sinning
As a common woman might do.
Look up in your old frank fashion,
With your smile so free from art;
And say that no guilty passion
Has ever crept into your heart.
How pallid you are, and you tremble!
You are hiding your face from view!
"Tho' a sinner, you cannot
dissemble" -
My God! then the tale is true?
True, and the sun above us
Shines on in the summer skies?
And men say the angels love us,
And that God is good and wise.
Yet he lets a wanton thing like you
Ruin my home and my name!
Get out of my sight or I strike you
Dead in your shameless shame!
No, no, I was wild, I was brutal;
I would not take your life,
For the efforts of death would be futile
To wipe out the sin of a wife.
Wife--why, that word has seemed
sainted

I uttered it like a prayer;
And now to think it is tainted -
Christ! how much we can bear!
"Slay you!" my boy's stained mother -
Nay, that would not punish, or save;
A soul that has outraged another
Finds no sudden peace in the grave.
I will leave you here to
REMEMBER
The Eden that was your own,
While on toward my life's December
I walk in the dark alone.
TWO SINNERS
There was a man, it was said one time,
Who went astray in his
youthful prime.
Can the brain keep cool and the heart keep quiet

When the blood is a river that's running riot?
And boys will be boys,
the old folks say,
And a man is the better who's had his day
The sinner reformed; and the preacher told
Of the prodigal son who
came back to the fold.
And Christian people threw open the door,

With a warmer welcome than ever before.
Wealth and honour were
his to command,
And a spotless woman gave him her hand.
And the
world strewed their pathway with blossoms abloom,
Crying, "God
bless ladye, and God bless groom!"
There was a maiden who went astray,
In the golden dawn of her life's
young day.
She had more passion and heart than head,
And she
followed blindly where fond Love led.
And Love unchecked is a
dangerous guide
To wander at will by a fair girl's side.
The woman repented and turned from sin,
But no door opened to let
her in.
The preacher prayed that she might be forgiven,
But told her

to look for mercy--in heaven.
For this is the law of the earth, we
know:
That the woman is stoned, while the man may go.
A brave man wedded her after all,
But the world said, frowning, "We
shall not call."
THE PHANTOM BALL
You remember the hall on the corner?
To-night as I walked down street
I heard the sound of music,
And the rhythmic beat and beat,
In time to the pulsing measure
Of lightly tripping feet.
And I turned and entered the doorway -
It was years since I had been there -
Years, and life seemed altered:
Pleasure had changed to care.
But again I was hearing the music
And watching the dancers fair.
And then, as I stood and listened,
The music lost its glee;
And instead of the merry waltzers
There were ghosts of the Used-to-be -
Ghosts of the pleasure-seekers
Who once had danced with me.
Oh, 'twas a ghastly picture!
Oh, 'twas a gruesome crowd!
Each bearing a skull on his shoulder,
Each trailing a long white shroud,
As they whirled in the dance
together,

And the music shrieked aloud.
As they danced, their dry bones rattled
Like shutters in a blast;
And they stared from eyeless sockets
On me as they circled past;
And the music that kept them whirling
Was a funeral dirge played fast.
Some of them wore their face-cloths,
Others were rotted away.
Some had mould on their garments,
And some seemed dead but a day.
Corpses all, but I knew them
As friends, once blithe and gay.
Beauty and strength and manhood -
And this was the end of it all:
Nothing but phantoms whirling
In a ghastly skeleton ball.
But the music ceased--and they vanished,
And I came away from the hall.
WORDS AND THOUGHTS
He said as he sat in her theatre box
Between the acts, "What beastly
weather!
How like a parrot the lover talks -
And the lady is tame,
and the villain stalks -
I hope they finally die together."
He thought--"You are fair as the dawn's first ray;
I know the angels
keep guard above you.
And so I chatter of weather, and play,
While
all the time I am mad to say,
I love you, love you, love you."
He said--"The season is almost run;
How glad we are, when the whirl

is over!
For the toil of pleasure is more than its fun,
And what is it
all, when all is done,
But the stick of a rocket that has descended?"
He thought--"Oh God! to be off somewhere
Afar with