Yesterdays Part 5

There is no Fate, no Providence, no Chance, The will is all. So be it thou art pure, And strong of purpose, thy success is sure; But fools and sluggards prate of circ.u.mstance.

SIMPLE CREEDS

If this were our creed it were creed enough To keep us thoughtful and make us brave; On this sad journey o'er pathways rough That lead us steadily on to the grave.

_Speak no evil_, _and cause no ache_, _Utter no jest that can pain awake_; _Guard your actions and bridle your tongue_, _Words are adders when hearts are stung_.

If this were our aim, it were all, in sooth, That any soul needs, to climb to heaven, And we would not c.u.mber the way of truth With dreary dogmas, or rites priest given.

_Help whoever_, _whenever you can_, _Man for ever needs aid from man_.

_Let never a day die in the West_, _That you have not comforted some sad heart_.

Were this our belief we need not brood O'er intricate _isms_ and modes of faith-- For this embodies the highest goal For the life we are living, or after death.

_We meet no trials we do not need_; _Well borne sorrow is holy seed_; _It shall rise in a harvest of golden grain_, _And a wise soul ever thanks G.o.d for pain_.

THE BRIDAL EVE

I stand in the blaze of the candle rays, While my merry maidens three Arrange each tress, and loop my dress, And render me fair to see.

But oh! for the eyes that never again Will smile like the stars on me.

I sweep down the stair, a bride most fair, And some one takes my hand.

I am numb and cold, but the lie is told, I smile and my lord is bland.

But oh! for a sight of my rover wild, Who wanders abroad in the land.

I am queen of the ball and the festal hall; I have beauty and youth and gold, Men bow at the shrine of this lord of mine-- Lord of his sums untold.

But oh! to be off in the wilds to-night With my lover brave and bold.

I dream a dream while the candles gleam, While the dancers merrily glide.

Neath the evening star I am speeding far, Oh! a good steed do I ride; And my heart beats high with hope and cheer, For my love is at my side.

We ride and sing, and the echoes ring With our voices blithe and free, We have no wealth but our love and health, And our cot on the wide green lea; But I love my love with a mighty love, And I know that he loves me.

We ride away in the dying day, We ride till we reach the spot Where all alone in the wilds unknown We find our lonely cot.

And I have no wish in the whole wide world, And I know that my love has not.

With a dreary moan the viols groan, And the dancers pause for breath, And my lord says, 'Dear, you are ill, I fear, You are paler than your wreath.'

O G.o.d! O G.o.d! to be out in the night, Riding with love or death.

GOOD NIGHT

The day is at its golden height, No shadow falls on sea or land; And yet to thee I say Good night, As we stand here hand clasped in hand, Good night--Good night.

The laughing waves are summer blue, The bees hum in the sun's warm light; But frosts of winter chill me through, I shiver as I say Good night.

Good night--Good night.

How often at the close of day With smiling lips we've said those words: And listened as we turned away To hear them echoed by the birds, Good night--Good night.

We did not dream then of this hour, This sad, sad hour for you and me; We did not dream there was a power Could force us for eternity To say Good night.

Good night--nay, turn your eyes away; I cannot bear their tender light.

Now evermore to golden day, To golden hope, a last Good night, Good night--Good night.

NO PLACE

When days grow long, and brain and hands grow weary, And hot the city street, Forth to the haunts, by cooling winds made cheery We fly with willing feet.

We leave our cares and labours all behind us, The city's noise and din, And, hid securely where they cannot find us, We drink the sunshine in.

But when the days grow long with bitter sorrow, And hearts grow sick with woe, Where are the haunts that we may seek to-morrow?

Where can we hide or go?

Holds earth no nook, where hearts with sorrow breaking, May find a summer's rest?

A season's respite from the weary aching That gnaws within the breast?

O G.o.d! if we could fly and leave behind us Our crosses and our grief, Could hide a season where they could not find us, What infinite relief.

FOUND

Found--as I rushed through the great world's mart, In a race for gold and a pleasure quest, A pa.s.sionate, throbbing human heart Suddenly found in my breast.

I had always laughed at the foolish word; I had said aloud in my boasting glee, That never a heart in my bosom stirred, That my _brain_ governed me.

I was proud with the sense of my might and power 'It is will, not heart that wins,' I said.

But I suddenly found one sad, strange hour That the strength of my will had fled.

For up in my breast there rose supreme A strong man's heart, and all on fire: Drunk with the wine of a wild, sweet dream, And tortured with desire.

It is tossed with hope, and fear, and doubt, It is mad with the fever of love's unrest, I wish to G.o.d I could pluck it out-- This heart I found in my breast.