The Kingdom of Love | Page 8

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 you, from this scene of fashion;?To know you were mine, and to have you care,?And to lose myself in the crimson snare?Of your lips, in a kiss of passion."
He said--"You are going abroad, no doubt,?This land of Liberty coldly scorning.?I too shall journey a bit about,?From Wall Street up by the L. Road out?To Harlem, and down each morning."
He thought--"It must follow on land or sea,?This pent-up, passionate, dumb devotion,?Till the cry of a rapture that may not be?Shall reach your heart from the heart of me?And stir you with strange emotion."
WANTED--A LITTLE GIRL
Where have they gone to--the little girls?With natural manners and natural curls;?Who love their dollies and like their toys,?And talk of something besides the boys?
Little old women in plenty I find,?Mature in manners and old of mind;?Little old flirts who talk of their "beaux,"?And vie with each other in stylish clothes.
Little old belles who, at nine and ten,?Are sick of pleasure and tired of men;?Weary of travel, of balls, of fun,?And find no new thing under the sun.
Once, in the beautiful long ago,?Some dear little children I used to know;?Girls who were merry as lambs at play,?And laughed and rollicked the livelong day.
They thought not at all of the "style" of their clothes,?They never imagined that boys were "beaux" -?"Other girls' brothers" and "mates" were they,?Splendid fellows to help them play.
Where have they gone to? If you see?One of them anywhere send her to me.?I would give a medal of purest gold?To one of those dear little girls of old,?With an innocent heart and an open smile,?Who knows not the meaning of "flirt" or "style."
THE SUICIDE
Vast was the wealth I carried in life's pack -
Youth, health, ambition, hope and trust; but Time?And Fate, those robbers fit for any crime,?Stole all, and left me but the empty sack.?Before me lay a long and lonely track
Of darkling hills and barren steeps to climb;?Behind me lay in shadows the sublime?Lost lands of Love's delight. Alack! Alack!
Unwearied, and with springing steps elate,
I had conveyed my wealth along the road.?The empty sack proved now a heavier load:?I was borne down beneath its worthless weight.?I stumbled on, and knocked at Death's dark gate.
There was no answer. Stung by sorrow's goad?I FORCED my way into that grim abode,?And laughed, and flung Life's empty sack to Fate.
Unknown and uninvited I passed in
To that strange land that hangs between two goals,?Round which a dark and solemn river rolls -?More dread its silence than the