Dreams and Days: Poems Part 10

Look on Helen not with hate, Therefore, but compa.s.sionate.

If she suffer not too much, Seldom does she feel the touch Of that fresh, auroral joy Lighter spirits may decoy To their pure and sunny lives.

Heavy honey 'tis she hives.

To her sweet but burdened soul All that here she may control-- What of bitter memories, What of coming fate's surmise, Paris' pa.s.sion, distant din Of the war now drifting in To her quiet--idle seems; Idle as the lazy gleams Of some stilly water's reach, Seen from where broad vine-leaves pleach A heavy arch; and, looking through, Far away the doubtful blue Glimmers, on a drowsy day, Crowded with the sun's rich gray;-- As she stands within her room, Weaving, weaving at the loom.

THE CASKET OF OPALS

I

Deep, smoldering colors of the land and sea Burn in these stones, that, by some mystery, Wrap fire in sleep and never are consumed.

Scarlet of daybreak, sunset gleams half spent In thick white cloud; pale moons that may have lent Light to love's grieving; rose-illumined snows, And veins of gold no mine depth ever gloomed; All these, and green of thin-edged waves, are there.

I think a tide of feeling through them flows With blush and pallor, as if some being of air,-- Some soul once human,--wandering, in the snare Of pa.s.sion had been caught, and henceforth doomed In misty crystal here to lie entombed.

And so it is, indeed. Here prisoned sleep The ardors and the moods and all the pain That once within a man's heart throbbed. He gave These opals to the woman whom he loved; And now, like glinting sunbeams through the rain, The rays of thought that through his spirit moved Leap out from these mysterious forms again.

The colors of the jewels laugh and weep As with his very voice. In them the wave Of sorrow and joy that, with a changing sweep, Bore him to misery or else made him blest Still surges in melodious, wild unrest.

So when each gem in place I touch and take, It murmurs what he thought or what he spake.

FIRST OPAL

My heart is like an opal Made to lie upon your breast In dreams of ardor, clouded o'er By endless joy's unrest.

And forever it shall haunt you With its mystic, changing ray: Its light shall live when we lie dead, With hearts at the heart of day!

SECOND OPAL

If, from a careless hold, One gem of these should fall, No power of art or gold Its wholeness could recall: The l.u.s.trous wonder dies In gleams of irised rain, As light fades out from the eyes When a soul is crushed by pain.

Take heed that from your hold My love you do not cast: Dim, shattered, vapor-cold-- That day would be its last.

II

THIRD OPAL

_He won her love; and so this opal sings With all its tints in maze, that seem to quake And leap in light, as if its heart would break:_

Gleam of the sea, Translucent air, Where every leaf alive with glee Glows in the sun without shadow of grief-- You speak of spring, When earth takes wing And sunlight, sunlight is everywhere!

Radiant life, Face so fair-- Crowned with the gracious glory of wife-- Your glance lights all this happy day, Your tender glow And murmurs low Make miracle, miracle, everywhere.

Earth takes wing With birds--do I care Whether of sorrow or joy they sing?

No; for they make not my life nor destroy!

My soul awakes At a smile that breaks In sun; and sunlight is everywhere!

III

_Then dawned a mood of musing thoughtfulness; As if he doubted whether he could bless Her wayward spirit, through each fickle hour, With love's serenity of flawless power, Or she remain a vision, as when first She came to soothe his fancy all athirst._

FOURTH OPAL

We were alone: the perfumed night, Moonlighted, like a flower Grew round us and exhaled delight To bless that one sweet hour.

You stood where, 'mid the white and gold, The rose-fire through the gloom Touched hair and cheek and garment's fold With soft, ethereal bloom.

And when the vision seemed to swerve, 'T was but the flickering shine That gave new grace, a lovelier curve, To every dream-like line.

O perfect vision! Form and face Of womanhood complete!

O rare ideal to embrace And hold, from head to feet!

Could I so hold you ever--could Your eye still catch the glow Of mine--it were an endless good: Together we should grow

One perfect picture of our love!...

Alas, the embers old Fell, and the moonlight fell, above-- Dim, shattered, vapor-cold.

IV

_What ill befell these lovers? Shall I say?

What tragedy of petty care and sorrow?

Ye all know, who have lived and loved: if nay, Then those will know who live and love tomorrow.

But here at least is what this opal said, The fifth in number: and the next two bore My fancy toward that dim world of the dead, Where waiting spirits muse the past life o'er_:

FIFTH OPAL

I dreamed my kisses on your hair Turned into roses. Circling bloom Crowned the loose-lifted tresses there.

"O Love," I cried, "forever Dwell wreathed, and perfume-haunted By my heart's deep honey-breath!"

But even as I bending looked, I saw The roses were not; and, instead, there lay Pale, feathered flakes and scentless Ashes upon your hair!

SIXTH OPAL

The love I gave, the love I gave, Wherewith I sought to win you-- Ah, long and close to you it clave With life and soul and sinew!

My gentleness with scorn you cursed: You knew not what I gave.

The strongest man may die of thirst: My love is in its grave!

SEVENTH OPAL

You say these jewels were accurst-- With evil omen fraught.