Maurine and Other Poems Part 30

Whirling and whirling through moonlight and starlight, Rocking as lightly as boats on the wave, Down in your eyes shone a deep light--a far light, How could I know 'twas the light to your grave?

Day by day, day by day, nearing and nearing, Hid under greenness, and beauty and bloom, Cometh the shape and the shadow I'm fearing, "Over the May hill" is waiting your tomb.

The season of mirth and of music is over-- I have danced my last dance, I have sung my last song, Under the violets, under the clover, My heart and my love will be lying ere long.

A SONG.

Is any one sad in the world, I wonder?

Does any one weep on a day like this, With the sun above, and the green earth under?

Why, what is life but a dream of bliss?

With the sun, and the skies, and the birds above me, Birds that sing as they wheel and fly-- With the winds to follow and say they love me-- Who could be lonely? O ho, not I!

Somebody said, in the street this morning, As I opened my window to let in the light, That the darkest day of the world was dawning; But I looked, and the East was a gorgeous sight.

One who claims that he knows about it Tells me the Earth is a vale of sin; But I and the bees and the birds--we doubt it, And think it a world worth living in.

Some one says that hearts are fickle, That love is sorrow, that life is care, And the reaper Death, with his s.h.i.+ning sickle, Gathers whatever is bright and fair.

I told the thrush, and we laughed together, Laughed till the woods were all a-ring: And he said to me, as he plumed each feather, "Well, people must croak, if they cannot sing."

Up he flew, but his song, remaining, Rang like a bell in my heart all day, And silenced the voices of weak complaining, That pipe like insects along the way.

O world of light, and O world of beauty!

Where are there pleasures so sweet as thine?

Yes, life is love, and love is duty; And what heart sorrows? O no, not mine!

FOES.

Thank Fate for foes! I hold mine dear As valued friends. He cannot know The zest of life who runneth here His earthly race without a foe.

I saw a prize. "Run," cried my friend; "'Tis thine to claim without a doubt."

But ere I half-way reached the end, I felt my strength was giving out.

My foe looked on the while I ran; A scornful triumph lit his eyes.

With that perverseness born in man, I nerved myself, and won the prize.

All blinded by the crimson glow Of sin's disguise, I tempted Fate.

"I knew thy weakness!" sneered my foe, I saved myself, and balked his hate.

For half my blessings, half my gain, I needs must thank my trusty foe; Despite his envy and disdain, He serves me well where'er I go.

So may I keep him to the end, Nor may his enmity abate: More faithful than the fondest friend, He guards me ever with his hate.

FRIENDs.h.i.+P.

Dear friend, I pray thee, if thou wouldst be proving Thy strong regard for me, Make me no vows. Lip-service is not loving; Let thy faith speak for thee.

Swear not to me that nothing can divide us-- So little such oaths mean.

But when distrust and envy creep beside us Let them not come between.

Say not to me the depths of thy devotion Are deeper than the sea; But watch, lest doubt or some unkind emotion Embitter them for me.

Vow not to love me ever and forever, Words are such idle things; But when we differ in opinions, never Hurt me by little stings.

I'm sick of words: they are so lightly spoken, And spoken, are but air.

I'd rather feel thy trust in me unbroken Than list thy words so fair.

If all the little proofs of trust are heeded, If thou art always kind, No sacrifice, no promise will be needed To satisfy my mind.