The White Bees Part 4

LYRICS

DRAMATIC AND PERSONAL

LATE SPRING

I

Ah, who will tell me, in these leaden days, Why the sweet Spring delays, And where she hides,--the dear desire Of every heart that longs For bloom, and fragrance, and the ruby fire Of maple-buds along the misty hills, And that immortal call which fills The waiting wood with songs?

The snow-drops came so long ago, It seemed that Spring was near!

But then returned the snow With biting winds, and all the earth grew sere, And sullen clouds drooped low To veil the sadness of a hope deferred: Then rain, rain, rain, incessant rain Beat on the window-pane, Through which I watched the solitary bird That braved the tempest, buffeted and tossed, With rumpled feathers, down the wind again.

Oh, were the seeds all lost When winter laid the wild flowers in their tomb?

I searched their haunts in vain For blue hepaticas, and trilliums white, And trailing arbutus, the Spring's delight, Starring the withered leaves with rosy bloom.

The woods were bare: and every night the frost To all my longings spoke a silent nay, And told me Spring was far and far away.

Even the robins were too cold to sing, Except a broken and discouraged note,-- Only the tuneful sparrow, on whose throat Music has put her triple finger-print, Lifted his head and sang my heart a hint,-- "Wait, wait, wait! oh, wait a while for Spring!"

II

But now, Carina, what divine amends For all delay! What sweetness treasured up, What wine of joy that blends A hundred flavours in a single cup, Is poured into this perfect day!

For look, sweet heart, here are the early flowers, That lingered on their way, Thronging in haste to kiss the feet of May, And mingled with the bloom of later hours,-- Anemonies and cinque-foils, violets blue And white, and iris richly gleaming through The gra.s.ses of the meadow, and a blaze Of b.u.t.ter-cups and daisies in the field, Filling the air with praise, As if a silver chime of bells had pealed!

The frozen songs within the breast Of silent birds that hid in leafless woods, Melt into rippling floods Of gladness unrepressed.

Now oriole and blue-bird, thrush and lark, Warbler and wren and vireo, Confuse their music; for the living spark Of Love has touched the fuel of desire, And every heart leaps up in singing fire.

It seems as if the land Were breathing deep beneath the sun's caress, Trembling with tenderness, While all the woods expand, In shimmering clouds of rose and gold and green, To veil the joys too sacred to be seen.

III

Come, put your hand in mine, True love, long sought and found at last, And lead me deep into the Spring divine That makes amends for all the wintry past.

For all the flowers and songs I feared to miss Arrive with you; And in the lingering pressure of your kiss My dreams come true; And in the promise of your generous eyes I read the mystic sign Of joy more perfect made Because so long delayed, And bliss enhanced by rapture of surprise.

Ah, think not early love alone is strong; He loveth best whose heart has learned to wait Dear messenger of Spring that tarried long, You're doubly dear because you come so late.

NEPENTHE

Yes it was like you to forget, And cancel in the welcome of your smile My deep arrears of debt, And with the putting forth of both your hands To sweep away the bars my folly set Between us--bitter thoughts, and harsh de- mands, And reckless deeds that seemed untrue To love, when all the while My heart was aching through and through For you, sweet heart, and only you.

Yet, as I turned to come to you again, I thought there must be many a mile Of sorrowful reproach to cross, And many an hour of mutual pain To bear, until I could make plain That all my pride was but the fear of loss, And all my doubt the shadow of despair To win a heart so innocent and fair; And even that which looked most ill Was but the fever-fret and effort vain To dull the thirst which you alone could still.

But as I turned the desert miles were crossed, And when I came the weary hours were sped!

For there you stood beside the open door, Glad, gracious, smiling as before, And with bright eyes and tender hands outspread Restored me to the Eden I had lost.

Never a word of cold reproof, No sharp reproach, no glances that accuse The culprit whom they hold aloof,-- Ah, 't is not thus that other women use The power they have won!

For there is none like you, beloved,--none Secure enough to do what you have done.

Where did you learn this heavenly art,-- You sweetest and most wise of all that live,-- With silent welcome to impart a.s.surance of the royal heart That never questions where it would forgive?

None but a queen could pardon me like this!

My sovereign lady, let me lay Within each rosy palm a loyal kiss Of penitence, then close the fingers up, Thus--thus! Now give the cup Of full nepenthe in your crimson mouth, And come--the garden blooms with bliss, The wind is in the south, The rose of love with dew is wet-- Dear, it was like you to forget!

HESPER

Her eyes are like the evening air, Her voice is like a rose, Her lips are like a lovely song, That ripples as it flows, And she herself is sweeter than The sweetest thing she knows.

A slender, haunting, twilight form Of wonder and surprise, She seemed a fairy or a child, Till, deep within her eyes, I saw the homeward-leading star Of womanhood arise.

ARRIVAL

Across a thousand miles of sea, a hundred leagues of land, Along a path I had not traced and could not understand, I travelled fast and far for this,--to take thee by the hand.

A pilgrim knowing not the shrine where he would bend his knee, A mariner without a dream of what his port would be, So fared I with a seeking heart until I came to thee.

O cooler than a grove of palm in some heat-weary place, O fairer than an isle of calm after the wild sea race, The quiet room adorned with flowers where first I saw thy face!

Then furl the sail, let fall the oar, forget the paths of foam!

The Power that made me wander far at last has brought me home To thee, dear haven of my heart, and I no more will roam.

DEPARTURE

Oh, why are you shining so bright, big Sun, And why is the garden so gay?

Do you know that my days of delight are done, Do you know I am going away?

If you covered your face with a cloud, I'd dream You were sorry for me in my pain, And the heads of the flowers all bowed would seem To be weeping with me in the rain.

But why is your head so low, sweet heart, And why are your eyes overcast?

Are they clouded because you know we must part, Do you think this embrace is our last?

Then kiss me again, and again, and again, Look up as you bid me good-bye!

For your face is too dear for the stain of a tear, And your smile is the sun in my sky.

THE BLACK BIRDS

I

Once, only once, I saw it clear,-- That Eden every human heart has dreamed A hundred times, but always far away!

Ah, well do I remember how it seemed, Through the still atmosphere Of that enchanted day, To lie wide open to my weary feet: A little land of love and joy and rest, With meadows of soft green, Rosy with cyclamen, and sweet With delicate breath of violets unseen,-- And, tranquil 'mid the bloom As if it waited for a coming guest, A little house of peace and joy and love Was nested like a snow-white dove

From the rough mountain where I stood, Homesick for happiness, Only a narrow valley and a darkling wood To cross, and then the long distress Of solitude would be forever past,-- I should be home at last.

But not too soon! oh, let me linger here And feed my eyes, hungry with sorrow, On all this loveliness, so near, And mine to-morrow!

Then, from the wood, across the silvery blue, A dark bird flew, Silent, with sable wings.

Close in his wake another came,-- Fragments of midnight floating through The sunset flame,-- Another and another, weaving rings Of blackness on the primrose sky,-- Another, and another, look, a score, A hundred, yes, a thousand rising heavily From that accursed, dumb, and ancient wood,-- They boiled into the lucid air Like smoke from some deep caldron of despair!

And more, and more, and ever more, The numberless, ill-omened brood, Flapping their ragged plumes, Possessed the landscape and the evening light With menaces and glooms.

Oh, dark, dark, dark they hovered o'er the place Where once I saw the little house so white Amid the flowers, covering every trace Of beauty from my troubled sight,-- And suddenly it was night!

II

At break of day I crossed the wooded vale; And while the morning made A trembling light among the tree-tops pale, I saw the sable birds on every limb, Clinging together closely in the shade, And croaking placidly their surly hymn.

But, oh, the little land of peace and love That those night-loving wings had poised above,-- Where was it gone?

Lost, lost forevermore!

Only a cottage, dull and gray, In the cold light of dawn, With iron bars across the door: Only a garden where the withering heads Of flowers, presaging decay, Hung over barren beds: Only a desolate field that lay Untilled beneath the desolate day,-- Where Eden seemed to bloom I found but these!

So, wondering, I pa.s.sed along my way, With anger in my heart, too deep for words, Against that grove of evil-sheltering trees, And the black magic of the croaking birds.

WITHOUT DISGUISE

If I have erred in showing all my heart, And lost your favour by a lack of pride; If standing like a beggar at your side With naked feet, I have forgot the art Of those who bargain well in pa.s.sion's mart, And win the thing they want by what they hide; Be mine the fault as mine the hope denied, Be mine the lover's and the loser's part.