Chapter III

Why is it that my MARGERY
Hears nothing that these say to me?
She is so good, she is so true,
My heart it maketh such ado;
_Perdie!
So good is she, so true is she,
You see,
She can not hear the other two._

_Constance._

Beyond the orchard, in the lane,
The crested red-bird sings again--
O bird, whose song says, _Have no care._
Should I not care when CONSTANCE there,--
My CONSTANCE, with the bashful gaze,
Pink-gowned like some sweet hollyhock,--
If I declare my love, just says
Some careless thing as if in mock?
Like--_Past the orchard, in the lane,
How sweet the red-bird sings again_!

There, while the red-bird sings his best,
His listening mate sits on the nest--
O bird, whose patience says, _All's well_,
How can it be with me, now tell?
When CONSTANCE, with averted eyes,--
Soft-bonneted as some sweet-pea,--
If I speak marriage, just replies
With some such quaint irrelevancy,
As, _While the red-bird sings his best,
His loving mate sits on the nest_.

What shall I say? what can I do?
Would such replies mean aught to you,
O birds, whose gladness says, _Be glad_?
Have I not reason to be sad
When CONSTANCE, with demurest glance,
Her face a-poppy with distress,
If I reproach her, pouts, perchance,
And answers so in waywardness?--
_What shall I say? what can I do?
My meaning should be plain to you!_

_Gertrude._

When first I gazed on GERTRUDE'S face,
Beheld her loveliness and grace;
Her brave gray eyes, her raven hair,
Her ways, more winsome than the kiss
_Spring_ gives the flowers; her smile, that is
Brighter than all the summer air
Made sweet with birds:--I did declare,--
And still declare!--there is no one,
No girl beneath the moon or sun,
So beautiful to look upon!
And to my thoughts, that on her dwell,
Nothing seems more desirable--
Not OPHIR gold nor ORIENT pearls--
Than seems this jewel-girl of girls.

_Lydia._

When Autumn's here and days are short,
Let LYDIA laugh and, hey!
Straightway 't is _May-day_ in my heart,
And blossoms strew the way.

When _Summer's_ here and days are long,
Let LYDIA sigh and, ho!
_December's_ fields I walk among,
And shiver in the snow.

No matter what the Seasons are,
My LYDIA is so dear,
My soul admits no Calendar
Of earth when she is near.

A SOUTHERN GIRL.

Serious but smiling, stately and serene,
And dreamier than a flower;
A girl in whom all sympathies convene
As perfumes in a bower;
Through whom one feels what soul and heart may mean,
And their resistless power.

Eyes, that commune with the frank skies of truth,
Where thought like starlight curls;
Lips of immortal rose, where love and youth
Nestle like two sweet pearls;
Hair, that suggests the Bible braids of RUTH,
Deeper than any girl's.

When first I saw you, 't was as if within
My soul took shape some song--
Played by a master of the violin--
A music pure and strong,
That rapt my soul above all earthly sin
To heights that know no wrong.

A DAUGHTER OF THE STATES.

She has the eyes of some barbarian Queen
Leading her wild tribes into battle; eyes,
Wherein th' unconquerable soul defies,
And Love sits throned, imperious and serene.

And I have thought that Liberty, alone
Among the mountain stars, might look like her,
Kneeling to GOD, her only emperor,
Kindling her torch on FREEDOM'S altar-stone.

For in her self, regal with riches of
Beauty and youth, again those Queens seem born--
BOADICEA, meeting scorn with scorn,
And ERMENGARDE, returning love for love.

AN _Autumn_ NIGHT.

Some things are good on _Autumn_ nights,
When with the storm the forest fights,
And in the room the heaped hearth lights
Old-fashioned press and rafter:
Plump chestnuts hissing in the heat,
A mug of cider, sharp and sweet,
And at your side a face petite,
With lips of laughter.

Upon the roof the rolling rain,
And tapping at the window-pane,
The wind that seems a witch's cane
That summons spells together:
A hand within your own awhile;
A mouth reflecting back your smile;
And eyes, two stars, whose beams exile
All thoughts of weather.

And, while the wind lulls, still to sit
And watch her fire-lit needles flit
A-knitting, and to feel her knit
Your very heartstrings in it:
Then, when the old clock ticks _'tis late_,
To rise, and at the door to wait,
Two words, or at the garden gate,
A kissing minute.

LINES.

If GOD should say to me, _Behold!--
Yea, who shall doubt?--
They who love others more than me,
Shall I not turn, as oft of old,
My face from them and cast them out?
So let it be with thee, behold!_--
I should not care, for in your face
Is all GOD'S grace.

If GOD should say to me, _Behold!--
Is it not well?--
They who have other gods than me,
Shall I not bid them, as of old,
Depart into the outer_ HELL?
_So let it be with thee, behold!_--
I should not care, for in your eyes
Is PARADISE.

THE BLIND GOD.

I know not if she be unkind,
If she have faults I do not care;
Search through the world--where will you find
A face like hers, a form, a mind?
_I love her to despair._

If she be cruel, cruelty
Is a great virtue, I will swear;
If she be proud--then pride must be
Akin to Heaven's divinest three--
_I love her to despair._

Why speak to me of that and this?
All you may say weighs not a hair!
In her,--whose lips I may not kiss,--
To me naught but perfection is!--
_I love her to despair._

A VALENTINE.

My life is grown a witchcraft place
Through gazing on thy form and face.

Now 't is thy Smile's soft sorcery
That makes my soul a melody.

Now 't is thy Frown, that comes and goes,
That makes my heart a page of prose.

Some day, perhaps, a word of thine
Will change me to thy VALENTINE.

A CATCH.

When roads are mired with ice and snow,
And the air of morn is crisp with rime;
When the holly hangs by the mistletoe,
And bells ring in the CHRISTMAS time:--
It's--Saddle, my Heart, and ride away,
To the sweet-faced girl with the eyes of gray!
Who waits with a smile for the gifts you bring--
A man's strong love and a wedding-ring--
It's--Saddle, my Heart, and ride!

When vanes veer North and storm-winds blow,
And the sun of noon is a blur o'erhead;
When the holly hangs by the mistletoe,
And the CHRISTMAS service is sung and said:--
It's--Come, O my Heart, and wait awhile,
Where the organ peals, in the altar aisle,
For the gifts that the church now gives to you--
A woman's hand and a heart that's true.
It's--Come, O my Heart, and wait!

When rooms gleam warm with the fire's glow,
And the sleet raps sharp on the window-pane;
When the holly hangs by the mistletoe,
And CHRISTMAS revels begin again:--
It's--Home, O my Heart, and love, at last!
And her happy breast to your own held fast;
A song to sing and a tale to tell,
A good-night kiss, and all is well.
It's--Home, O my Heart, and love!

THE NEW YEAR.

Lift up thy torch, O Year, and let us see
What Destiny
Hath made thee heir to at nativity!

Doubt, some call Faith; and ancient Wrong and Might,
Whom some name Right;
And Darkness, that the purblind world calls Light.

Despair, with Hope's brave form; and Hate, who goes
In Friendship's clothes;
And Happiness, the mask of many woes.

Neglect, whom Merit serves; Lust, to whom, see,
Love bends the knee;
And Selfishness, who preacheth charity.

Vice, in whose dungeon Virtue lies in chains;
And Cares and Pains,
That on the throne of Pleasure hold their reigns.

Corruption, known as Honesty; and Fame
That's but a name;
And Innocence, the outward guise of Shame.

And Folly, men call Wisdom here, forsooth;
And, like a youth,
Fair Falsehood, whom some worship for the Truth.

Abundance, who hath Famine's house in lease;
And, high 'mid these,
War, blood-black, on the spotless shrine of Peace.

Lift up thy torch, O Year! assist our sight!
Deep lies the night
Around us, and GOD grants us little light!

THEN AND NOW.

When my old heart was young, my dear,
The Earth and Heaven were so near
That in my dreams I oft could hear
The steps of unseen races;
In woodlands, where bright waters ran,
On hills, GOD'S rainbows used to span,
I followed voices not of man,
And smiled in spirit faces.

Now my old heart is old, my sweet,
No longer Earth and Heaven meet;
All Life is grown to one long street
Where fact with fancy clashes;
The voices now that speak to me
Are prose instead of poetry:
And in the faces now I see
Is less of flame than ashes.