Part 2 (1/2)
XV
_Love and Death_
I can believe that my Beloved dies, That all her virtue, all her youth shall fail, And life, her rosy life, grow cold and pale, To bloom again in braver Paradise.
I must believe that death shall close her eyes, And hold her heart beyond a heavy veil, Where silences surround her spirit frail And waste the form where all my loving lies.
Ah, G.o.d! but no. And is my love so weak?
Her heart may pause, may falter and grow still, But not her laugh, the color in her cheek-- That may not fade; the catch that lifts her breath, Sobbing against my heart. Essay your will-- These are too dear to fill _your_ grave, O Death!
XVI
_The Message_
When one has heard the message of the Rose, For what faint other calling shall he care?
Dark broodings turn to find their lonely lair; The vain world keeps her posturing and pose.
He, with his crimson secret, which bestows Heaven on his heart, to Heaven lifts his prayer, And knows all glory trembling through the air As on triumphal journeying he goes.
So through green woodlands in the twilight dim, Led by the faint, pale argent of a star, What though to others it is weary night, Nature holds out her wide, sweet heart to him; And, leaning o'er the world's mysterious bar, His soul is great with everlasting light.
XVII
_Tempest and Calm_
First came the tempest, and the world was torn Upon its mighty pa.s.sion--all the deep Trembled before it. From the haggard steep To the sweet valley with its brooding corn, Its foaming lips in expletives of scorn Lashed into life the world's eternal sleep; Then, caught with madness, in gigantic leap Expired upon the heights where it was born.
And then a hush--the dripping, tender rain Falls in warm tears. The thunder could not wake The grief that silence in her soul has furled.
Soft sighs the wind, the sea is gray with pain-- The fulness of a heart too tense to break-- And deep, unuttered sadness in the world.
XVIII
_After Rain_
The country road at lonely close of day Rests for a while from the long stress of rain; Dripping and bowed, the green walls of the lane Reflect no glistening light, no colors gay Has dying Summer left. The sky is gray, As though the weeping had not eased the pain.
The Autumn is not yet, and all in vain Seems Summer's life--a blossom cast away.