Chapter III

Will the garden never forget
That it whispers over and over,
"Where is your lover, Nanette?
Where is your lover--your lover?"
Oh, roses I helped to grow,
Oh, lily and mignonette,
Must you always question me so,
"Where is your lover, Nanette?"
Since you looked on my joy one day,
Is my grief then a lesser thing?
Have you only this to say
When I pray you for comforting?
Now that I walk alone
Here where our hands were met,
Must you whisper me every one,
"Where is your lover, Nanette?"

I have mourned with you year and year,
When the Autumn has left you bare,
And now that my heart is sere
Does not one of your roses care?
Oh, help me forget--forget,
Nor question over and over,
"Where is your lover, Nanette?
Where is your lover--your lover?"

THE RETURN

I lost Young Love so long ago
I had forgot him quite,
Until a little lass and lad
Went by my door to-night.

Ah, hand in hand, but not alone,
They passed my open door,
For with them walked that other one
Who paused here Mays before.

And I, who had forgotten long,
Knew suddenly the grace
Of one who in an empty land
Beholds a kinsman's face.

Oh, Young Love, gone these many years,
'Twas you came back to-night,
And laid your hand on my two eyes
That they might see aright,

And took my listless hand in yours
(Your hands without a stain),
And touched me on my tired heart
That it might beat again.

BLACK SHEEP

_"Black Sheep, Black Sheep,_
_Have you any wool?"_
_"That I have, my Master,_
_Three bags full."_

One is for the mother who prays for me at night--
A gift of broken promises to count by candle-light.

One is for the tried friend who raised me when I fell--
A gift of weakling's tinsel oaths that strew the path to hell.

And one is for the true love--the heaviest of all--
That holds the pieces of a faith a careless hand let fall.

_Black Sheep, Black Sheep,_
_Have you ought to say?_
_A word to each, my Master,_
_Ere I go my way._

A word unto my mother to bid her think o' me
Only as a little lad playing at her knee.

A word unto my tried friend to bid him see again
Two laughing lads in Springtime a-racing down the glen.

A word unto my true love--a single word--to pray
If one day I cross her path to turn her eyes away.

MONSEIGNEUR PLAYS

Monseigneur plays his new gavotte--
Within her gilded chair the Queen
Listens, her rustling maids between;
A very tulip-garden stirred
To hear the fluting of a bird;
Faint sunlight through the casement falls
On cupids painted on the walls
At play with doves. Precisely set
Awaits the slender legged spinet
Expectant of its happy lot,
The while the player stays to twist
The cobweb ruffle from his wrist.
A pause, and then--(Ah, whisper not)
Monseigneur plays his new gavotte.

Monseigneur plays his new gavotte--
Hark, 'tis the faintest dawn of Spring,
So still the dew drops whispering
Is loud upon the violets;
Here in this garden of Pierrettes'
Where Pierrot waits, ah, hasten Sweet,
And hear; on dainty, tripping feet
She comes--the little, glad coquette.
"Ah thou, Pierrot?" "Ah thou, Pierrette?"
A kiss, nay, hear--a bird wakes, then
A silence--and they kiss again,
"Ah, Mesdames, have you quite forgot--"
(So laughs his music.) "Love's first kiss?
Let this note lead you then, and this
Back to that fragrant garden-spot."
Monseigneur plays his new gavotte.

Monseigneur plays his new gavotte--
Ah, hear--in that last note they go
The little lovers laughing so;
Kissing their finger-tips, they dance
From out this gilded room of France.
Adieu! Monseigneur rises now
Ready for compliment and bow,
Playing about his mouth the while
Its cynical, accustomed smile,
Protests and, hand on heart, avers
The patience of his listeners.
"A masterpiece? Ah, surely not."
A grey-eyed maid of honour slips
A long stemmed rose across her lips
And drops it; does he guess her thought?
Monseigneur plays his new gavotte.

UNBELIEF

Your chosen grasp the torch of faith--the key
Of very certainty is theirs to hold.
They read Your word in messages of gold.
Lord, what of us who have no light to see
And in the darkness doubt, whose hands may be
Broken upon the door, who find but cold
Ashes of words where others see enscrolled,
The glorious promise of Life's victory.

Oh, well for those to whom You gave the light
(The light we may not see by) whose award
Is that sure key--that message luminous,
Yet we, your people stumbling in the night,
Doubting and dumb and disbelieving--Lord,
Is there no word for us--no word for us?

THE SILENT ONE

The moon to-night is like the sun
Through blossomed branches seen;
Come out with me, dear silent one,
And trip it on the green.

"Nay, Lad, go you within its light,
Nor stay to urge me so--
'Twas on another moonlit night
My heart broke long ago."

Oh loud and high the pipers play
To speed the dancers on;
Come out and be as glad as they,
Oh, little Silent one.

"Nay, Lad, where all your mates are met
Go you the selfsame way,
Another dance I would forget
Wherein I too was gay."

But here you sit long day by day
With those whose joys are done;
What mates these townfolk old and grey
For you dear Silent one.

"Nay, Lad, they're done with joys and fears.
Rare comrades should we prove,
For they are very old with years
And I am old with love."

THE ROSE

I took the love you gave, Ah, carelessly,
Counting it only as a rose to wear
A little moment on my heart no more,
So many roses had I worn before,
So lightly that I scarce believed them there.

But, Lo! this rose between the dusk and dawn
Hath turned to very flame upon my breast,
A flame that burns the day-long and the night,
A flame of very anguish and delight
That not for any moment yields me rest.

And I am troubled with a strange, new fear,
How would it be if even to your door
I came to cry your pitying one day,
And you should lightly laugh and lightly say,
"That was a rose I gave you--nothing more."

THE SONG OF THE YOUNG PAGE

All that I know of love I see
In eyes that never look at me;
All that I know of love I guess
But from another's happiness.

A beggar at the window I,
Who, famished, looks on revelry;
A slave who lifts his torch to guide
The happy bridegroom to his bride.

My granddam told me once of one
Whom all her village spat upon,
Seeing the church from out its breast
Had cast him cursed and unconfessed.

An outcast he who dared not take
The wafer that God's vicars break,
But dull-eyed watched his neighbours pass
With shining faces from the Mass.

Oh thou, my brother, take my hand,
More than one God hath blessed and banned
And hidden from man's anguished glance
The glory of his countenance.

All that I know of love I see
In eyes that never look at me;
All that I know of love I guess
But from another's happiness.

THE NEW SPRING

The long grief left her old--and then
Came love and made her young again
As though some newer, gentler Spring
Should start dead roses blossoming;
Old roses that have lain full long
In some forgotten book of song,
Brought from their darkness to be one
With lilting winds and rain and sun;
And as they too might bring away
From that dim volume where they lay
Some lyric hint, some song's perfume
To add its beauty to their bloom,
So love awakes her heart that lies
Shrouded in fragrant memories,
And bids it bloom again and wake
Sweeter for that old sorrow's sake.

THE BURDEN

The burden that I bear would be no less
Should I cry out against it; though I fill
The weary day with sound of my distress,
It were my burden still.

The burden that I bear may be no more
For all I bear it silently and stay
Sometimes to laugh and listen at a door
Where joy keeps holiday.

I ask no more save only this may be--
On life's long road, where many comrades fare,
One shall not guess, though he keep step with me,
The burden that I bear.

THE BRIDE

I

Though other eyes were turned to him,
He turned to look in mine;
Though others filled the cup abrim,
He might not taste the wine.

I am so glad my eyes were first
In which his own might sink;
I am so glad he went athirst
Until I bade him drink.

II

The Well-Belovèd took my hand
And led me to his fair abode,
The home that Love and he had planned.
(Strange that so well I knew the road.)

And through the open door we went,
And at our feet the hearth-light fell,
And I--I laughed in all content,
Seeing I knew the place so well.

Ah, to no stranger Love displayed
Its every nook, its every grace,
This was the House of Dreams I made
Long, long before I saw his face.