Part 16 (1/2)
Delsarte should be able to speak in the table-- 'Expression' may lie in a light loaf of bread.
Though hard be the labour, the end recompenses-- Though weary the journey, reward is the goal.
For the soul of a man must be reached through his senses, As the senses of woman are reached through her soul.
Speak first to his spirit, he never will hear it; Speak first to his body, his soul will reply; The mortal man fare for, his appet.i.tes care for, And lo! he will follow your footsteps on high.
Love born in the boudoir oft dies in the kitchen, The failure of marriage oft starts in the soup.
The stomach appeal to, and men's heart you steal to-- Would you reach to the last? To the first you must stoop.
I WONDER WHY
Do you remember that glorious June When we were lovers, you and I?
Something there was in the robin's tune, Something there was in earth and sky, That was never before, and never since then.
I wonder why.
Do you remember the bridge we crossed, And lingered to see the s.h.i.+ps go by, With snowy sails to the free winds tossed?
I never pa.s.s that bridge but I sigh With a sense at my heart as of something lost.
I wonder why.
Do you remember the song we sung, Under the beautiful starlit sky?
The world was bright, and our hearts were young-- I cannot forget though I try and try.
How you smiled in my eyes while the echoes rung.
I wonder why.
Do you remember how debonair The new moon shone when we said good-bye?
How it listened and smiled when we parted there?
I shall hate the new moon until I die-- Hate it for ever, nor think it fair.
I wonder why.
A WOMAN'S HAND
All day long there has haunted me A spectre out of my lost youth-land.
Because I happened last night to see A woman's beautiful snow-white hand.
Like part of a statue broken away, And carefully kept in a velvet case, On the crimson rim of her box it lay; The folds of the curtain hid her face.
Years had drifted between us two, In another clime, in another land, We had lived and parted, and yet I knew That cruelly beautiful perfect hand.