The Mistress of the Manse Part 9

Turns with aversion from the breeze, And stretches all its stunted limbs Landward and heavenward, toward the trees That listen to a thousand hymns, And grow to grander destinies.

Man may not live on whitest loaves, With all of coa.r.s.er good dismissed; He pines and starves who never roves Beyond the holy eucharist, To gather of the fields and groves.

And he who seeks to fill his heart With solace of a single friend, Will find refreshment but in part, Or, sadder still, will find the end Of all his reach of thought and art.

They who love best need friends.h.i.+p most; Hearts only thrive on varied good; And he who gathers from a host Of friendly hearts his daily food, Is the best friend that we can boast.

She left her husband with his friends; She called them round him at her board; And found their culture made amends For all the time that, from her h.o.a.rd, She spared him for these n.o.bler ends.

He was her lover; that sufficed: His home was in the Holy Place With that of the Beloved Christ; And friends.h.i.+p had no subtle grace By which his love could be enticed.

Of all his friends, she was but one: She held with them a common field.

Exclusive right, with love begun, Ended with love, and stood repealed, Leaving his friends.h.i.+p free to run

Toward man or woman, all unmissed.

She knew she had no right to bind His friends.h.i.+p to her single wrist, So long as love was true and kind, And made her its monopolist,

No time was grudged with jealous greed Which either books or friends.h.i.+p claimed.

He was her friend, and she had need Of all--unhindered and unblamed That he could win, through word or deed.

Her friend waxed great as grew the man; Her temple swelled as rose her priest-- With power to bless and right to ban-- And all who served him, most or least,-- From chorister and sacristan

To those whose frankincense and myrrh Perfumed the sacred courts with alms,-- Were gracious ministers to her, Who found the largess in her palms, And him the friendly almoner.

LOVE'S CONSUMMATIONS.

The summer pa.s.sed, the autumn came; The world swung over toward the night; The forests robed themselves in flame, Then faded slowly into white; And set within a crystal frame

Of frozen streams, the s.h.a.ggy boles Of oak and elm, with leafless crowns, Were painted stark upon the knolls; And cots and villages and towns On virgin canvas glowed like coals

In tawny-red, or strove in vain To shame the white in which they stood.

The fairest tint was but a stain Upon the snow, that quenched the wood, And paved the street, and draped the plain!

II.

Oh! Southern cheeks are quick to feel The magic finger of the frost; And Mildred heard but one long peal From the fierce Arctic, which embossed Her window-panes, and set the seal

Of cold on all her eye beheld, When through her veins there swept new fire, And, in her answering bosom, swelled New purposes and new desire, And force to higher deeds impelled.

Ah! well for her the languor cast That followed from her Southern clime!

The time would come--was coming fast,-- Love's consummated, crowning time-- Of which her heart had antepast!

A strange new life was in her breast; Her eyes were full of wondrous dreams; She sailed all whiles from crest to crest Of a broad ocean, through whose gleams She saw an island wrapped in rest!

And as she drove across the sea, Toward the fair port that fixed her gaze, Her life was like a rosary, Whose slowly counted beads were days Of prayer for one that was to be!

III.

Oh roses, roses! Who shall sing The beauty of the flowers of G.o.d!

Or thank the angel from whose wing The seeds are scattered on the sod From which such bloom and perfume spring!

Sure they have heavenly genesis Which make a heaven of every place; Which company our bale and bliss, And never to our sinning race Speak aught unhallowed, or amiss!

When love is grieved, their buds atone; When love is wed, their forms are near; They blend their breathing with the moan Of love when dying, and the bier Is white with them in every zone.

No spot is mean that they begem; No nosegay fair that holds them not; They melt the pride and stir the phlegm Of lord and churl, in court and cot, And weave a common diadem

For human brows where'er they grow.

They write all languages of red, They speak all dialects of snow, And all the words of gold are said With fragrant meanings where they blow!

Oh sweetest flowers! Oh flowers divine!

In which G.o.d comes so closely down, We gather from his chosen sign The tints that cl.u.s.ter in his crown-- The perfume of his breath benign!

Oh sweetest flowers! Oh flowers that hold The fragrant life of Paradise For a brief day, shut told in fold, That we may drink it in a trice, And drop the empty pink and gold!

Oh sweetest flowers, that have a breath For every pa.s.sion that we feel!

That tell us what the Master saith Of blessing, in our woe and weal, And all events of life and death!

IV.

The time of roses came again; And one had bloomed within the manse, Bloomed in a burst of midnight pain, And plumed its life in fair expanse, Beneath love's nursing sun and rain.

In calyx fair of lilied lawn, Wrapped in the mosses of the lamb, Long days it lightened toward the dawn Of the bright-blus.h.i.+ng oriflamme, That on two happy faces shone.

Such tendance ne'er had flower before!

Such beauty ne'er had flower returned!

Found on that distant island-sh.o.r.e, Whose secret she at last had learned, And made her own for evermore,

Mildred consigned it to her breast; And though she knew it took its hue From her, it seemed the Lord's bequest,-- Still sparkling with the heavenly dew, And still with heavenly beauty dressed.

Oh roses! ye were wondrous fair That summer by the river side!

For hearts were blooming everywhere, In sympathy of love and pride, With that which came to Mildred's care.

And rose as red as rose could be Filled Philip's breast with largest bloom, And cast its fragrance far and free, And filled his lonely, silent room With rapture of paternity!

V.