A Cluster of Grapes Part 4

Me has love molten for thee to mould.

Ah, shape me fair As the crown of thy life, as a crown of gold In thy flame-like hair Worn for a sign!

Nay, rather my life be a wind-flower Slow kissed to death, Petal by petal, on lips that stir With love's own breath.

Dear life, take mine!

BEFORE THE FATES

I cannot sing, So weary of life my heart is and so sore Afraid. What harp-playing Back from the land whose name is Never More My lost desire will bring?

These words she said Before the Pheidian Fates. "There comes an end Of love, and mine is fled: But, if you let me, I will be your friend, A better friend, instead."

Was it her own, The voice I heard, marmoreal, strange, remote, As though from yonder throne Clotho had spoken, and the headless throat Had uttered words of stone?

I sought her face; It was a mask inscrutable, a screen Baffling all hope to trace The woman whose pa.s.sionate loveliness had been Mine for a little s.p.a.ce.

Thereat I rose, Smiling, and said--"The dream is past and gone.

Surely Love comes and goes Even as he will. And who shall thwart him? None.

Only, while water flows

And night and day Chase one another round the rolling sphere, Henceforth our destined way Divides. Fare onward, then, and leave me, dear.

There is no more to say."

Harsh songs and sweet Come to me still, but as a tale twice told.

The throb, the quivering beat Harry my blood no longer as of old, Nor stir my wayworn feet.

Yet for a threne Once more I wear the purple robe and make Sad music and serene For pity's sake, ah me, and the old time's sake, And all that might have been.

For Love lies dead.

Love, the immortal, the victorious, Is fallen and vanquished.

What charm can raise, what incantation rouse That lowly, piteous head?

Why should I weep My triumph? 'Twas my life or his. Behold The wound, how wide and deep Which in my side the arrow tipped with gold Smote as I lay asleep!

Across thy way I came not, Love, nor ever sought thy face; But me, who dreaming lay Peaceful within my quiet lurking-place, Thy shaft was sped to slay.

When hadst thou ruth, That I should sorrow o'er thee and forgive?

Why should I grieve, forsooth?

Art thou not dead for ever, and I live?

And yet--and yet, in truth

Almost I would That I had perished, and beside my bier Thou and thy mother stood, And from relenting eyes let fall a tear Upon me, and my blood

Changed to a flower Imperishable, a hyacinthine bloom, In memory of an hour Splendidly lived between Delight and Doom Once when I wandered from my ivory tower.

THOMAS HARDY

A TRAMPWOMAN'S TRAGEDY (182-)

I

From Wynyard's Gap the livelong day, The livelong day, We beat afoot the northward way We had travelled times before.

The sun-blaze burning on our backs, Our shoulders sticking to our packs, By fosseway, fields, and turnpike tracks We skirted sad Sedge Moor.

II

Full twenty miles we jaunted on, We jaunted on-- My fancy-man, and jeering John, And Mother Lee, and I.

And, as the sun drew down to west, We climbed the toilsome Poldon crest, And saw, of landskip sights the best, The inn that beamed thereby.

III

For months we had padded side by side, Ay, side by side Through the Great Forest, Blackmoor wide, And where the Parret ran.

We'd faced the gusts on Mendip ridge, Had crossed the Yeo unhelped by bridge, Been stung by every Marshwood midge, I and my fancy man.

IV

Lone inns we loved, my man and I, My man and I; "King's Stag," "Windwhistle" high and dry, "The Horse" on Hintock Green, The cosy house at Wynyard's Gap, "The Hut" renowned on Bredy Knap, And many another wayside tap Where folk might sit unseen.

V

Now as we trudged--O deadly day, O deadly day!-- I teased my fancy-man in play And wanton idleness.

I walked alongside jeering John, I laid his hand my waist upon; I would not bend my glances on My lover's dark distress.

VI

Thus Poldon top at last we won, At last we won, And gained the inn at sink of sun Far famed as "Marshall's Elm."

Beneath us figured tor and lea, From Mendip to the western sea-- I doubt if finer sight there be Within this royal realm.

VII

Inside the settle all a-row-- All four a-row We sat, I next to John, to show That he had wooed and won.

And then he took me on his knee, And swore it was his turn to be My favoured mate, and Mother Lee Pa.s.sed to my former one.

VIII

Then in a voice I had never heard, I had never heard, My only Love to me: "One word, My lady, if you please!

Whose is the child you are like to bear?-- _His?_ After all my months of care?"

G.o.d knows 'twas not! But, O despair!

I nodded--still to tease.