Chapter XXI
So it ends--the path that crept
Through a land all slumber-whist;
Where the faded moonlight slept
Like a pale antagonist.
Now the star that led me onward,--
Reassuring with its light,--
Fails and falters; dipping downward
Leaves me wandering in night,
With old doubts, like hounds unchained,
Baying at my back, in flight....
So it ends. The woods attained--
Where our hearts' Desire builded
A fair temple, fire-gilded,
With Hope's marble shrine within,
(Where the lineaments of our love
Shone, with lilies clad and crowned,
Under marble reared above
Sorrow and her sister, Sin,
Columned, wreathed and ribbon-wound,)--
In the forest I have found
But a ruin! All around
Lie the shattered capitals,
And vast fragments of the walls ...
Like a climbing cloud,--that plies,
Wind-wrecked, o'er the moon that lies
'Neath its blackness,--taking on
Gradual certainties of wan,
Soft assaults of easy white,
(Till its huge cocoon, that holds
Like a moth the moon, unfolds,
And it passes) and the skies'
Emptiness and hungry night
Claim its bulk again, while she
Rides in lonely purity:--
So I found our temple broken;
And a musing moment's space
Love, whose latest word was spoken,
Seemed to meet me face to face,
Making bright that ruined place
With a white effulgence--then
Passed, and all was dark again.
WOMAN'S PORTION
I
The leaves are shivering on the thorn,
Drearily;
And sighing wakes the sad-eyed morn,
Wearily.
I press my thin face to the pane,
Drearily;
But never will he come again.
Wearily.
The rain hath sicklied day with haze,
Drearily;
My tears run downward as I gaze,
Wearily.
The mist and morn spake unto me,
Drearily:--
"What is this thing God gives to thee,
Wearily?"
I said unto the morn and mist,
Drearily:--
"The babe unborn whom sin hath kissed,
Wearily."
The morn and mist spake unto me,
Drearily:--
"What is this thing which thou dost see,
Wearily?"
I said unto the mist and morn,
Drearily:--
"The shame of man and woman's scorn,
Wearily."
"He loved thee not," they made reply,
Drearily.--
I said, "Would God had let me die!"
Wearily.
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The Poems of Madison Cawein, Volume 4 (of 5)Chapter XXI
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