Part 28 (1/2)

IS IT DONE?

It is done! in the fire's fitful flashes, The last line has withered and curled.

In a tiny white heap of dead ashes Lie buried the hopes of your world.

There were mad foolish vows in each letter, It is well they have shriveled and burned, And the ring! oh, the ring was a fetter, It was better removed and returned.

But ah, is it done? in the embers Where letters and tokens were cast, Have you burned up the heart that remembers, And treasures its beautiful past?

Do you think in this swift reckless fas.h.i.+on To ruthlessly burn and destroy The months that were freighted with pa.s.sion, The dreams that were drunken with joy?

Can you burn up the rapture of kisses That flashed from the lips to the soul?

Or the heart that grows sick for lost blisses In spite of its strength of control?

Have you burned up the touch of warm fingers That thrilled through each pulse and each vein, Or the sound of a voice that still lingers And hurts with a haunting refrain?

Is it done? is the life drama ended?

You have put all the lights out, and yet, Though the curtain, rung down, has descended, Can the actors go home and forget?

Ah, no! they will turn in their sleeping With a strange restless pain in their hearts, And in darkness, and anguish and weeping, Will dream they are playing their parts.

A LEAF.

Somebody said, in the crowd, last eve, That you were married, or soon to be.

I have not thought of you, I believe, Since last we parted. Let me see: Five long Summers have pa.s.sed since then-- Each has been pleasant in its own way-- And you are but one of a dozen men Who have played the suitor a Summer day.

But, nevertheless, when I heard your name, Coupled with some one's, not my own, There burned in my bosom a sudden flame, That carried me back to the day that is flown.

I was sitting again by the laughing brook, With you at my feet, and the sky above, And my heart was fluttering under your look-- The unmistakable look of Love.

Again your breath, like a South wind, fanned My cheek, where the blushes came and went; And the tender clasp of your strong, warm hand Sudden thrills through my pulses sent.

Again you were mine by Love's own right-- Mine forever by Love's decree: So for a moment it seemed last night, When somebody mentioned your name to me.

Just for the moment I thought you mine-- Loving me, wooing me, as of old.

The tale remembered seemed half divine-- Though I held it lightly enough when told.

The past seemed fairer than when it was near, As ”Blessings brighten when taking flight;”

And just for the moment I held you dear-- When somebody mentioned your name last night.

AESTHETIC.

In a garb that was guiltless of colors She stood, with a dull, listless air-- A creature of dumps and of dolors, But most undeniably fair.

The folds of her garment fell round her, Revealing the curve of each limb; Well proportioned and graceful I found her, Although quite alarmingly slim.

From the hem of her robe peeped one sandal-- ”High art” was she down to her feet; And though I could not understand all She said, I could see she was sweet.

Impressed by her limpness and languor, I proffered a chair near at hand; She looked back a mild sort of anger-- Posed anew, and continued to stand.