Songs of Womanhood Part 8

V

I seek to call you near me in the dark And silent prison of my solitude, Where Memory with visions heaven-hued Now mocks the night, and Hope with timid spark Kindles vain torches. Lonely in my ark Of Faith, on battling waves I float, pursued By all those doubting monsters that delude Pain-sunken b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and bid the soul embark For perilous despair. I call you near That I may cheat the helmsman of his fear: And yet I know you far, I know you lost To me, on this same ocean tempest-tossed Alone--O you who should my pilot be!

You, whom my love could steer through any sea....

VI

When Spring awakens and no Spring is there, None for the heart, it is a joyless thing.

Yet Winter softens, and all breezes bring To the hard earth now tidings vague and fair.

The lilac buds are swelling, the mild air Tempts forth the green; at dusk the thrushes sing Out in the garden, and their raptures wring The heart whose joy is of the past. I bear Remembrance in me of dear foliage gone, Of wilted heather and of perished flowers.

For me not one of Spring's foreshadowed hours Is quick with presages of joy. Alone Who cares to creep? The solitary ways Are primrose-less, and vain the violet days.

VII

If I must live without you, I must learn To love the earth and all that grows once more, With the old good love that satisfied before I saw you smile. Now, let me turn and turn, Your memory covers earth and sky; I yearn For you, and not for Spring; my heart is sore With absence, not with Winter's length. Of yore, When climbing noons began to softly burn, There seemed a tender joy in every bud That swelled and burst, in every little spear That broke the clods; and Spring sang in my blood As in the sap; and all that lived was dear.

These treasures now are veiled and strange and far, Whilst I go wandering where your footprints are.

VIII

Beloved! are we not wanderers on a road Unknown, that grope their way among the rocks Together?--Yes, together; for these shocks Our hearts have borne and given, part not, goad Unto no hatred. Though I be your load Of care and you my anguish, something locks Our hands, my brother: Destiny, that mocks Man's thinkings, and here finds a new strange mode Of welding chance-divided loves, a link That's more than human, that is half divine, Since, beggared of you, still I hold you mine Above all bonds. So love me well. We'll drink Of all pure streams together, dear, and break These rocks to sand for one another's sake.

IX

Yes, love me, love me well. You need not fear To hurt me further. Like a careless knight That riding lonely, with averted sight, Has struck a pa.s.ser unawares, so here Have you struck me amid the branches sere Of this dark forest. If you now alight, Give water to my lips and through the night Keep peril from me, with the morning's clear New dawn I'll rise again, and both will reap The mercy of the wound you dealt. Asleep, Awake, I'll be your shield-bearer, and guard Your steps upon this road so long and hard.

Then help us both, for all the love you give But turns to strength whereby we both may live.

X

Dearest of all, and nearest though most far!

My spirit follows you across both sea And land; all bounds, all s.p.a.ces, are to me Erased; my heart upon its winged car Of thought outstrips you; nothing now shall mar My joy in you, O brother!--save that we Are of the earth and ask to touch and see The thing we love upon this yearning star.

O world of strange desires! Have not we two Lived to behold each other and to smile?

Have our two notes not mingled in one chord?

What ails us? Were we joined this earthly while, You would not love me better than you do, Nor in my heart be otherwise adored.

XI

Without, you seem forgotten. Am I sad Or happy? None can tell. The lonely days Recur, and draw me on the beaten ways Of all who strive and toil. The things I had Remain; all daily happenings, good or bad, Fall as they did: success and loss, delays That sweeten victory: the balance sways Unceasingly, makes heavy, or makes glad.

And this is life, such as the world demands.

Within, 'tis otherwise; for in the far Depths where my soul recoiled sits, there are No echoes of such wisdom; there my hands Are folded, and in yours: I seek your eyes, Your voice, your smile.... Within, 'tis otherwise.

THE OPEN AIR

Sunshine in February

O winter Sun!

How beautiful thy beams Upon the chained earth!

The snows are melting and the gale Is hushed; thou shinest, soft and pale, O Winter Sun!

Upon a world that dreams, And trembles with awakened hopes of birth.

O Joyful Green!

'Mid snowy patches gay Thou peerest, and the sky Shines blue through twigged boughs; each tree Is aching now with thoughts of thee, O Joyful Green!

Spring's heart is in the day Though Winter's hands upon night's bosom lie.

_Fairseat._

The Cuckoo

Sing, cuckoo, sing, Dear herald of the Spring!

Minstrels in all ages born, Hearing thee on such a morn-- When the cowslips all around Waft their fragrance from the ground, And the blossom of the pear Quivers white in bluest air-- Such as I, in all the ages Thus have covered rapturous pages With thy praise, O loveliest bird Ear of man has ever heard!