Poems of Passion Part 3

As I came through the valley desolate, As I came through the valley, like a beam Of lurid lightning I beheld a gleam Of Love's great eyes that now were full of hate.

Dear G.o.d! Dear G.o.d! I could bear all but that; But I fell down soul-stricken, dead, thereat, As I came through the valley.

BUT ONE.

The year has but one June, dear friend; The year has but one June; And when that perfect month doth end, The robin's song, though loud, though long, Seems never quite in tune.

The rose, though still its blushing face By bee and bird is seen, May yet have lost that subtle grace-- That nameless spell the winds know Which makes it garden's queen.

Life's perfect June, love's red, red rose, Have burned and bloomed for me.

Though still youth's summer sunlight glows; Though thou art kind, dear friend, I find I have no heart for thee.

[Ill.u.s.tration:]

[Ill.u.s.tration: A JUNE ROSE]

GUILO.

Yes, yes! I love thee, Guilo; thee alone.

Why dost thou sigh, and wear that face of sorrow?

The sunshine is to-day's, although it shone On yesterday, and may shine on to-morrow.

I love but thee, my Guilo! be content; The greediest heart can claim but present pleasure.

The future is thy G.o.d's. The past is spent.

To-day is thine; clasp close the precious treasure.

See how I love thee, Guilo! Lips and eyes Could never under thy fond gaze dissemble.

I could not feign these pa.s.sion-laden sighs; Deceiving thee, my pulses would not tremble.

"So I loved Romney." Hush, thou foolish one-- I should forget him wholly wouldst thou let me; Or but remember that his day was done From that supremest hour when first I met thee.

"And Paul?" Well, what of Paul? Paul had blue eyes, And Romney gray, and thine are darkly tender!

One finds fresh feelings under change of skies-- A new horizon brings a newer splendor.

_As I love thee_ I never loved before; Believe me, Guilo, for I speak most truly.

What though to Romney and to Paul I swore The self-same words; my heart now worships newly.

We never feel the same emotion twice: No two ships ever ploughed the self-same billow; The waters change with every fall and rise; So, Guilo, go contented to thy pillow.

THE DUET.

I was smoking a cigarette; Maud, my wife, and the tenor, McKey, Were singing together a blithe duet, And days it were better I should forget Came suddenly back to me-- Days when life seemed a gay masque ball, And to love and be loved was the sum of it all.

As they sang together, the whole scene fled, The room's rich hangings, the sweet home air, Stately Maud, with her proud blond head, And I seemed to see in her place instead A wealth of blue-black hair, And a face, ah! your face--yours, Lisette; A face it were wiser I should forget.

We were back--well, no matter when or where; But you remember, I know, Lisette.

I saw you, dainty and debonair, With the very same look that you used to wear In the days I should forget.

And your lips, as red as the vintage we quaffed, Were pearl-edged b.u.mpers of wine when you laughed.

Two small slippers with big rosettes Peeped out under your kilt skirt there, While we sat smoking our cigarettes (Oh, I shall be dust when my heart forgets') And singing that self-same an, And between the verses, for interlude, I kissed your throat and your shoulders nude.

You were so full of a subtle file, You were so warm and so sweet, Lisette; You were everything men admire, And there were no fetters to make us tire, For you were--a pretty grisette.

But you loved, as only such natures can, With a love that makes heaven or h.e.l.l for a man.

They have ceased singing that old duet, Stately Maud and the tenor, McKey.

"You are burning your coat with your cigarette, And _qu' avez vous_, dearest, your lids are wet,"

Maud says, as she leans o'er me.

And I smile, and lie to her, husband-wise, "Oh, it is nothing but smoke in my eyes."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "I LOVE THEE; THEE ALONE"]

[Ill.u.s.tration:]

LITTLE QUEEN.

Do you remember the name I wore-- The old pet-name of Little Queen-- In the dear, dead days that are no more, The happiest days of our lives, I ween?

For we loved with that pa.s.sionate love of youth That blesses but once with its perfect bliss-- A love that, in spite of its trust and truth, Seems never to thrive in a world like this.

I lived for you, and you lived for me; All was centered in "Little Queen;"

And never a thought in our hearts had we That strife or trouble could come between.

What utter sinking of self it was!

How little we cared for the world of men!

For love's fair kingdom and love's sweet laws Were all of the world and life to us then.

But a love like ours was a challenge to Fate; She rang down the curtain and shifted the scene; Yet sometimes now, when the day grows late, I can hear you calling for Little Queen; For a happy home and a busy life Can never wholly crowd out our past; In the twilight pauses that come from strife, You will think of me while life shall last.

And however sweet the voice of fame May sing to me of a great world's praise, I shall long sometimes for the old pet-name That you gave to me in the dear, dead days; And nothing the angel band can say, When I reach the sh.o.r.es of the great Unseen, Can please me so much as on that day To hear your greeting of "Little Queen."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "THAT BLESSES BUT ONCE WITH ITS PERFECT BLISS"]

WHEREFORE?