Part 12 (1/2)

Vain is the task; I strive no more To learn the secret of their fate; Till sounds for me the m.u.f.fled oar, I can but hope and wait.

But well I know they have gone from me Into the silent depths of s.p.a.ce, Across a vast, uncharted sea, Whose sh.o.r.es I cannot trace.

TO SLEEP AND TO FORGET

To sleep and to forget,--O blessed guerdon!

The day is waning, and the night draws near; My failing heart grows weary of its burden; Why should I therefore hesitate or fear To sleep and to forget?

Though bright my skies with transient gleams of gladness, And sweet the breath of many a summer sea, Yet, under all, a haunting note of sadness Forever lures me in its minor key To sleep and to forget.

Of petty souls whose joy is defamation, Of malice, envy, cruelty, and greed Each day supplies its sickening revelation, And makes imperative my spirit's need To sleep and to forget.

Let others bravely plan for death's to-morrow, And crave fresh progress toward a higher goal!

Appalled by Earth's long tragedy of sorrow, I humbly ask one favor for my soul, When this life's sun is set,-- To sleep and to forget.

IN SILENCE

She sees our faces bright and gay, Our moving lips, our laughing eyes, But scarce a word of what we say Can pa.s.s the zone that round her lies;--

A zone of stillness,--strange, profound, Invisible to mortal eye, Upon whose verge the waves of sound In m.u.f.fled murmurs break and die.

Across that silent void she strains To catch at least some winged word, And, though she fails, still smiles and feigns The poor pretence of having heard.

That smile! Its pathos wrings the heart Of many a friend, who yet conceals The tears that from his eyelids start, The grief and pity that he feels.

And she, aware of our distress, And sadly conscious of her own, Still bravely speaks, nor dares confess That our real meaning is unknown.

What rapture, when the closing door Shuts out the world and gives release, And on her quivering nerves once more Descends the benison of peace!

No longer forced to dimly read Men's meanings from their lips and looks, Her greatest joy, her only need The sweet companions.h.i.+p of books!

Do we thus ever fully know The boon of leaving far behind The world's dull tales of crime and woe, The gossip of its vacant mind?

What if her loss be really gain, That zone of silence a defence, A compensation for her pain, A quickening of her psychic sense?

Perhaps when fall at last away The chains which bind her spirit here, A voice divine will gently say In tones which reach alone her ear,--

”While others in that world of sin Heard evil things, to thee unknown, Apart from that defiling din Thy spirit grew, in strength, alone.

”They must through other lives return To slowly earn thy strength of soul; Through suffering only couldst thou learn The virtue that hath made thee whole.”

AT THE VILLA OF THE EMPEROR FREDERICK III AT SAN REMO

San Remo's palms in beauty stand Beside the storied sea, Where azure band and golden sand Are wedded ceaselessly; For from the deep, which seems to sleep, The slow waves, long and low, Their journeys done, break one by one In rhythmic ebb and flow.

Before me lies a fair retreat, Whose every breath brings balm From plants replete with odors sweet And many a fronded palm; Hence at its gate I, spellbound, wait To feast my gladdened eyes On buds that wake and flowers that make A perfumed paradise.