Victor Roy, A Masonic poem | Page 9

wave,?Father, hear and help and save."
Then came the tidings brought by Robert's hand,?Victor lay buried in a far off land;?Died, wafting my name up to Heaven in prayer,?Leaving his promised bride to Robert's care.?Oft it has puzzled me, until my brain?Has racked itself from thinking into pain,?Why Victor left me thus, for in the past?He surely loved not Robert, perhaps at last?He saw things differently and thought it best?And had his wishes writ, e're he could rest.?But oh, the agony of those past hours;?It seems on looking back, that all my flowers?Looked mournfully at me and drooped their heads,?And lay like dying children in their beds;?And the bright birds in the vine-covered wall?Sang the sad chords of "The Dead March in Saul;"?And I was living, but all else were dead,?The sunbeam shimmered sickly o'er my head,?As when a ray peers in a darkened room,?Where one beneath a pall awaits his tomb.?Robert was ever near when Victor died,?And soon he sought to win me for his bride;?He told me how he'd loved me many years,?Loved him I loved, kindly he dried my tears,?Pictured my desolate and lonely lot,?Urged me to go with him to some new spot?Where all the past should be but as a dream,?And our lives glide gently down life's stream.?I told him that my heart was far away,?Beneath the palm where Victor's body lay;?That nightly in my dreams I heard the splash?Upon the shores where Ganges' waters dash.?I told him all my hope now was to stand?Amid the quiet of God's summerland;?Beneath another palm tree's shade to be,?And list the murmurs of the crystal sea.?But Robert loved me; I became his wife;?Could I forsee the sunken rocks of life??And he was handsome then, and kind, and bright;?Could I foretell eclipses? then the night.?Oh, I have looked sometimes upon that face,?When robbed of every lineament of grace,?And I have cried unto the heavens above,?"It was not this, O God, I pledged to love;?Unsteady gait, wild brain and selfish heart--"?Flashed the red lights of danger "till death part."?Tell me, soul-searching ray, if erst I strove?To cherish, feed and guard where grew no love.?We sailed away to far Australia's shore,?Oh, the long days passed near the ocean's roar.?For him on whom I leaned in hope and trust,?Proved but coarse clay that crumbled soon to dust.?Drinking and gambling, sharks that swallow whole,?Homes, jewels, money, reason, body, soul.?Alone, for weeks to hear none call my name,?And happier alone; then baby came,?My firstborn, precious boy, I lived for him?For months; then his bright eyes grew dim,?And where the reeds and grass grew rank and wild,?We made a grave for Willie, darling child.?Ah, well I ween the night we laid him there,?I went to watch his grave; day had been fair,?But eve came up with thunder's muttered growl,?And ever and anon the lightning's scowl?Flashed angrily upon me as I viewed?The breakers dashing on the sea beach rude.?I grew passionate amid the whirlwind's sigh,?It had no word of comfort, loud was its cry,?And deep, dark was the struggle of my soul,?As I watched the billows onward roll.?There came no ray of hope across my breast,?As I turned toward my place of wild unrest;?I looked in vain for calmness, up on high,?It was not God's time for rainbows in the sky.?I went again next eve; there was no storm,?The full moon lighted up each darkening form;?'Twas the glory of a summer's bloom,?And I went onward to my baby's tomb.?I laid fresh flowers above the cold in death,?I felt upon my cheek warm zephyr's breath,?It seemed as if an angel had swept by?Across the grass where I too longed to lie;?And I saw the glorious sweep of moonbeams?Gilding the white rocks, circling all the streams?With rays of glory; I knelt on the bank,?Watching the picture, till my lone heart sank?Down to the depths; I could have slept to death,?My wounds seemed to defy the balmy breath?Of nature to restore my peace; my hands?I stretched out o'er the sea to northern lands,?I moved so swiftly o'er the moon gilt foam,?I stood once more within my father's home,?Could almost hear the village bells ring out,?Could almost hear the merry children's shout,?Could breathe the scent of violet and rose,?Walked down the dells where the pale primrose grows.?Ah, tell the truth, felt once again the bliss?Of Victor's loving clasp and burning kiss,?Felt his fond arms enfold me to his breast,?And I a bird safe in its shadowy nest,?And then the vision vanished; I was there,?A prey to sorrow, loneliness and care,?Like one who spends in a dark mine his life,?My baby dead, and I a drunkard's wife.?Then came a thought on Him of Mary born,?Who turned not back for spear or cross or thorn,?And through the murmurings of breeze and bay,?A voice seemed whispering to me, "Watch and pray."?I knelt as He