Satires of Circumstance Part 18

As wing-clipt sea-gull for the sea On Sunday night I longed for thee, Without whom life were waste to me!

HAD YOU WEPT

Had you wept; had you but neared me with a frail uncertain ray, Dewy as the face of the dawn, in your large and luminous eye, Then would have come back all the joys the tidings had slain that day, And a new beginning, a fresh fair heaven, have smoothed the things awry.

But you were less feebly human, and no pa.s.sionate need for clinging Possessed your soul to overthrow reserve when I came near; Ay, though you suffer as much as I from storms the hours are bringing Upon your heart and mine, I never see you shed a tear.

The deep strong woman is weakest, the weak one is the strong; The weapon of all weapons best for winning, you have not used; Have you never been able, or would you not, through the evil times and long?

Has not the gift been given you, or such gift have you refused?

When I bade me not absolve you on that evening or the morrow, Why did you not make war on me with those who weep like rain?

You felt too much, so gained no balm for all your torrid sorrow, And hence our deep division, and our dark undying pain.

BEREFT, SHE THINKS SHE DREAMS

I dream that the dearest I ever knew Has died and been entombed.

I am sure it's a dream that cannot be true, But I am so overgloomed By its persistence, that I would gladly Have quick death take me, Rather than longer think thus sadly; So wake me, wake me!

It has lasted days, but minute and hour I expect to get aroused And find him as usual in the bower Where we so happily housed.

Yet stays this nightmare too appalling, And like a web shakes me, And piteously I keep on calling, And no one wakes me!

IN THE BRITISH MUSEUM

"What do you see in that time-touched stone, When nothing is there But ashen blankness, although you give it A rigid stare?

"You look not quite as if you saw, But as if you heard, Parting your lips, and treading softly As mouse or bird.

"It is only the base of a pillar, they'll tell you, That came to us From a far old hill men used to name Areopagus."

- "I know no art, and I only view A stone from a wall, But I am thinking that stone has echoed The voice of Paul,

"Paul as he stood and preached beside it Facing the crowd, A small gaunt figure with wasted features, Calling out loud

"Words that in all their intimate accents Pattered upon That marble front, and were far reflected, And then were gone.

"I'm a labouring man, and know but little, Or nothing at all; But I can't help thinking that stone once echoed The voice of Paul."

IN THE SERVANTS' QUARTERS

"Man, you too, aren't you, one of these rough followers of the criminal?

All hanging hereabout to gather how he's going to bear Examination in the hall." She flung disdainful glances on The shabby figure standing at the fire with others there, Who warmed them by its flare.

"No indeed, my skipping maiden: I know nothing of the trial here, Or criminal, if so he be.--I chanced to come this way, And the fire shone out into the dawn, and morning airs are cold now; I, too, was drawn in part by charms I see before me play, That I see not every day."

"Ha, ha!" then laughed the constables who also stood to warm themselves, The while another maiden scrutinized his features hard, As the blaze threw into contrast every line and knot that wrinkled them, Exclaiming, "Why, last night when he was brought in by the guard, You were with him in the yard!"

"Nay, nay, you teasing wench, I say! You know you speak mistakenly.

Cannot a tired pedestrian who has footed it afar Here on his way from northern parts, engrossed in humble marketings, Come in and rest awhile, although judicial doings are Afoot by morning star?"

"O, come, come!" laughed the constables. "Why, man, you speak the dialect He uses in his answers; you can hear him up the stairs.

So own it. We sha'n't hurt ye. There he's speaking now! His syllables Are those you sound yourself when you are talking unawares, As this pretty girl declares."

"And you shudder when his chain clinks!" she rejoined. "O yes, I noticed it.

And you winced, too, when those cuffs they gave him echoed to us here.

They'll soon be coming down, and you may then have to defend yourself Unless you hold your tongue, or go away and keep you clear When he's led to judgment near!"

"No! I'll be d.a.m.ned in h.e.l.l if I know anything about the man!

No single thing about him more than everybody knows!

Must not I even warm my hands but I am charged with blasphemies?" .

- His face convulses as the morning c.o.c.k that moment crows, And he stops, and turns, and goes.

THE OBLITERATE TOMB

"More than half my life long Did they weigh me falsely, to my bitter wrong, But they all have shrunk away into the silence Like a lost song.

"And the day has dawned and come For forgiveness, when the past may hold it dumb On the once reverberate words of hatred uttered Half in delirium . . .

"With folded lips and hands They lie and wait what next the Will commands, And doubtless think, if think they can: 'Let discord Sink with Life's sands!'

"By these late years their names, Their virtues, their hereditary claims, May be as near defacement at their grave-place As are their fames."

--Such thoughts bechanced to seize A traveller's mind--a man of memories - As he set foot within the western city Where had died these

Who in their lifetime deemed Him their chief enemy--one whose brain had schemed To get their dingy greatness deeplier dingied And disesteemed.

So, sojourning in their town, He mused on them and on their once renown, And said, "I'll seek their resting-place to-morrow Ere I lie down,

"And end, lest I forget, Those ires of many years that I regret, Renew their names, that men may see some liegeness Is left them yet."