Emblems Of Love Part 17

Sylvan, I have been So wrencht and fearfully used. It was as if This being that I live in had become A savage endless water, wild with purpose To tire me out and drown me.

_Sylvan_.

Yes, I know: Like swimming against a mighty will, that wears The cruelty, the race and scolding spray Of monstrous pa.s.sionate water.

_Katrina_.

Hold me, Sylvan I'm bruised with my sore wrestling.

_Sylvan_.

Ah, but now We are not swimmers in this dangerous life.

It cannot beat upon our limbs with surf Of water clencht against us, nor can waves Now wrangle with our breath. Out of it we Are lifted; and henceforward now we are Sailors travelling in a lovely ship, The shining sails of it holding a wind Immortally pleasant, and the malicious sea Smoothed by a keel that cannot come to wreck.

_Katrina_.

Alas, we must not stay together here.

Grannam will come upon us.

_Sylvan_.

Where is she?

_Katrina_.

Yonder, gathering driftwood for her fire.

There is a little bay not far from here, The shingle of it a thronging city of flies, Feeding on the dead weed that mounds the beach; And the sea h.o.a.rds there its vain avarice,-- Old flotsam, and decaying trash of ships.

An arm of reef half locks it in, and holds The bottom of the bay deep strewn with seaweed, A barn full of the harvesting of storms; And at full tide, the little hampered waves Lift up the litter, so that, against the light, The yellow kelp and bracken of the sea, Held up in ridges of green water, show Like moss in agates. And there is no place In all the coast for wreckage like this bay; There often will my grannam be, a sack Over her shoulders, turning up the crust Of sun-dried weed to find her winter's warmth.

_Sylvan_.

Is that she coming?

_Katrina_.

O Sylvan, has she seen us?

_Sylvan_.

What matter if she has?

_Katrina_.

But it would matter!

_Sylvan_.

Katrina, come with me now! We'll go together Back to my house.

_Katrina_.

No, no, not now! I must Carry my grannam's load for her: 'tis heavy.

_Sylvan_.

We must not part again.

_Katrina_.

No, not for long; For if we do, there will be storms again, I know; and a fierce reluctance--O, a mad Tormenting thing!--will shake me.

_Sylvan_.

Then come now!

_Katrina_.

Not now, not now! Look how my poor grannam Shuffles under the weight; she's old for burdens.

I must carry her sack for her.

_Sylvan_.

Well, to-night!

_Katrina_.

To-night?--O Sylvan! dare I?

_Sylvan_.

Yes, you dare!

You will be knowing I'm outside in the darkness, And you will come down here and give me yourself Wholly and forever.

_Katrina_.

O not to-night!

_Sylvan_.

I shall be here, Katrina, waiting for you.

[_He goes_.

_The old woman comes in burdened with her sack_.

_Grandmother_.

Katrina, that was a young man with you.

_Katrina_.

O grannam, you've had luck to-day; but now It's I must be the porter.

_Grandmother (giving up the sack)_.

Ay, you take it.

It's sore upon my back. You should have care Of these young fellows; there's a devil in them.

Never you talk with a man on the seash.o.r.e Or on hill-tops or in woods and suchlike places, Especially if he's one you think of marrying.

_Katrina_.

Marrying? I shall never be married!

_Grandmother_.

Pooh!

That's nonsense.

_Katrina_.

I should think 'twas horrible Even to be in love and wanting to give Yourself to another; but to be married too, A man holding the very heart of you,--

_Grandmother_.

He never does, honey, he never does.-- We're late; come along home.

II