Part 1

HERBS AND APPLES

HERBS AND APPLES

BY

HELEN HAY WHITNEY

AUTHOR OF "SONGS AND SONNETS," "GYPSY VERSES," ETC.

NEW YORK: JOHN LANE COMPANY LONDON: JOHN LANE, THE BODLEY HEAD MCMX

Copyright, 1910 BY JOHN LANE COMPANY

THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A.

I give you this, the bitter and the sweet. It holds my heart, can you not hear it beat? So poor a gift to put within your hand-- Apples and Herbs!--but you will understand.

CONTENTS

PAGE

TO NEIGHBOR LIFE 1

THE UNBURIED 2

UP A LITTLE ROAD 3

ON CEDAR STREET, NEW YORK 4

CHE SARÀ SARÀ 5

THE DEAD WANTON 6

LEAVEN 7

QUAERITUR 8

LOVE LAND 9

BY THE WESTERN GATE 10

FOR MUSIC 11

THE LITTLE GHOST 12

MADONNA EVE 13

A CONVERSATION 14

BE BRAVE 15

FORFEITURE 16

THE SEARCH 17

DUST 18

NATURE'S CHILD 19

VERITATIS 20

THE PEACOCK 21

ANTICIPATION 22

THE WAYFARER 23

RENUNCIATION 24

ARABESQUE 25

THE ARCHITECTS 26

AMBUSH 27

THE SCALES 28

THE OLD TRAGEDY 29

TABOO 30

THE RIVALS 31

ALONE 32

BENEATH THE MASK 33

THOTH 34

LITTLE DANCER 35

SIC ITUR AD ASTRA 36

THE JUDGES 37

THE SPRING PLANTING 38

AN IMPRESSIONIST PICTURE 39

SUCH HELP FOR SINGING 40

TEMPUS EDAX RERUM 41

THE COWARD 42

THE LOST ROMANY 43

COMPENSATION 44

UNTAMED 45

TO PERVANCHE 46

THE BELLE 47

RELEASE 48

THE THIEF 49

I WILL WRITE LETTERS TO THE GRASS 50

ONLY THIS 51

THE SURVIVOR 52

MEGAERA 53

THE SONG OF MOKAI 54

TO THE GYPSY MAN 55

THERE IS NO DANGER IN DISDAIN 56

THE PLAYMATE 57

AFTERWARDS 58

THE OLD MAID 59

MADNESS? 60

THE SCHOLAR 61

WISDOM'S SECRET 62

CAGED 63

THE WIFE SPEAKS 64

THE ALTAR 65

_Acknowledgment is made to Messrs. Harper & Bros., the Century Company, The Metropolitan Magazine, and Collier's Weekly, for courteous permission to reproduce certain of the verses included in this volume._

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

PAGE

"TO BE ALONE, TO WATCH THE DUSK AND WEEP" 32 _Frontispiece_

"SMILING SHE FLOUTS DEMOSTHENES" 6

THE PEACOCK 21

LITTLE DANCER 35

THE ROMANY 43

PERVANCHE 46

"AND WRAP MY HEART CLOSE SHROUDED IN THE HOURS" 50

HERBS AND APPLES

TO NEIGHBOR LIFE

Neighbor Life, I love you well, Have you any goods to sell? Let me buy or let me borrow Joy, to tide me o'er the morrow; I will give you in exchange Baskets full of thoughts that range, Bright utensils of my brain; Coins of feeling you shall gain. All I ask in equal measure Is your store of joy and pleasure. Neighbor Life, I love you well, Have you any joy to sell?

THE UNBURIED

In the wood the dead trees stand, Dead and living, hand to hand, Being Winter, who can tell Which is sick and which is well? Standing upright, day by day Sullenly their hearts decay Till a wise wind lays them low, Prostrate, empty, then we know.

So thro' forests of the street, Men stand dead upon their feet, Corpses without epitaph; God withholds his wind of wrath, So we greet them, and they smile, Dead and doomed a weary while, Only sometimes thro' their eyes We can see the worm that plies.

UP A LITTLE ROAD

Up a little road with the morning in my arms, Drenched with dew and tipsy with the madness of the May, Leafy fingers on my face, I stop not for your charms! Love is waiting round the turn, to be my Love to-day.

Shouting as I ride on the springing ringing sod, Ah! my pony knows the goal to which his course is laid, Galloping thro' dawn he knows he bears a little god Bacchus-mad with happiness who burns to meet his maid.

ON CEDAR STREET, NEW YORK

I, whose totem was a tree In the days when earth was new, Joyous leafy ancestry Known of twilight and of dew, Now within this iron wall Slave of tasks that irk the soul, To my parents send one call-- That they give me of their dole.

Thro' the roar of alien sound Grimy noise of work-a-day, Secretly a voice, half drowned, Whispers thro' the evening's grey, "Child, we know the path you tread, Ghost and manes, we are true; Cedar spirits, long since dead, Calm and sweet abide with you."

CHE SARÀ SARÀ

Deep as the permanent earth is deep, Fierce as its central fire, Man is his own conclusion, Woman her great desire.

THE DEAD WANTON

She was so light, so frail a thing, She had no wisdom but her face, Which caught men's fancy like the Spring Yet held them but a moment's space.

She is the youngest of the dead, And so the great lean round her feet; They strive to learn from her fair head Why far-forgotten life was sweet.

For now she knows what Plato knows, And lapped in languor she agrees With Kant, and as her soft hair blows, Smiling, she flouts Demosthenes.

LEAVEN

Others furnish bread and meat, Busy hucksters on the street, They will give you what you need, All the facts your life to feed.

Mine are not these wares of earth, I can give my love but mirth; Let, oh let this part be mine, I would be your salt and wine.

QUAERITUR

What if to-day, when I have made so sure That love is utterly and wholly mine, What if I found that faith should not endure And all my trust in you I should resign;

That when I send my thoughts like homing birds To your dear heart they find no resting place, But all misunderstood, far, foreign words, They die away like strangers at your face.

Love, make me certain, make the circuit true, And when I wonder, give the faith I seek Perfectly trusting, let me end in you Heart against heart, and cheek upon your cheek.

LOVE LAND

Where is El Dorado? Where is bright Cathay? These are lands where we should go To live and love to-day.

Miles of glistening beaches Over all the sun, Tropic, spicy-laden breeze To lull when day is done.

Gypsy lass and lover With the tides we'd rove; We be natives of no land Save the land of love.

BY THE WESTERN GATE

You and you only!--By the Western gate That fronts the falling sun I shade my face And watch for you. As one who's lost the race Tries to demand no further gift from Fate Lest he be hurled more low, so I, who wait And want you, ask no pity of your grace On my defeat, I only long to trace My lost heart; come to me, my need is great.

I see the young men with their crystal eyes, They stand about my door, their hearts, I know Are breaking in the poppies that they bring. I cannot love them for I am not wise; Ah, come, or else forever let me go, I grow so tired with waiting in the Spring.

FOR MUSIC

The Indian Summer and Love have fled, Oh, red, red lips like a crimson rose, Oh, slender hands with the tips of red, You are lost in the land of Nobody-knows.

The sweet breeze blows but it comes not back, The water flows in a silver stream, But never returns on its moon-white track, They are gone, past recall, like a lovely dream.

Ah, crimson lips like a tilted flower, Where sweetest honey awaits the bee; Come back, come back for a single hour, Dear Love, my Summer, come back to me.

THE LITTLE GHOST

The little one who loved the sun Who only lived for play, Ah, why was she the one condemned To dark and dreams for aye!

The perfect perfume of her life Was as a rose's breath, And now she treads eternally The gusty walks of Death.

MADONNA EVE

From what far spicery derives your hair The sweet faint fragrance that enslaves my sense? What subtle love trick taught you to be fair With overt lure and covert reticence?

Madonna Eve, you bear upon your breast A hungry emerald like the desiring sea, But warm upon your heart lie pearls of rest What man could exorcise such witchery?

A CONVERSATION

"Laddy, leave your pedant's task, Rove the world with me. Fields and towns and pretty lands Together we would see. There be workers everywhere, You would not be missed. Come, ah come, and take for yours The mouth you never kissed!"

"Lady, I am fain for play, So I may not go. Only those who hate to toil The true enjoyment know; But could you love a larrikin Whose task he'd so resign?" "Yes!--I'd love a larrikin If only he were mine."

BE BRAVE

Be brave about yourselves, you little ones, If in the crazy warp and woof you gleam With the insistence of determined suns, Shine, being true and modest in your dream.

If to the peace of nature you respond Draw from her breast your milk, nor weep the high Duties for lack of which you now despond, Made for historic planets thro' the sky.

Knowing yourself a gay and careless weed, Be you courageous in your light despair; Sure that you fill a space of unknown need, Idle and green in the bright coat you wear.

Strive to the uttermost to find your worth, Jester or Gypsy, Body, Brain or Soul, Filling with perfect cheer your place on earth, So shall the tapestry of Time be whole.

FORFEITURE

So I have lost you. When the utter ache Shall fade at length to mere despondency What will the answer to this problem be? They say that nothing dies, that all we stake Brings some unknown return; what then shall make An adequate exchange for love, to see Your hand held out in friendship?--as for me The episode is ended, for life's sake.

You want me still for that small joy I gave, But now it ends for you. I am not brave To love you seared; I have no happy days To brood upon at dusk, and so I claim, As all the wager that good fortune pays, Complete obliteration of your name.

THE SEARCH

I tire of the struggle, the search for the ultimate I, There hangs the chalice of sapphire, the infinite sky, Why thro' the space of despair should my spirit be hurled Seeking for truth, when beneath lies this pearl of a world?

Seers may direct us thro' pain to discover the soul, Comforting joy may not give us the absolute whole, But if the seers should be wrong, may the truth not be ours Thanking dear Life for its light and its beautiful hours?

DUST

Motes of the city dust, could this thing be That midst your myriad particles for me Might come one atom out of Ispahan, One spiced far memory of caravan.

Indrawn upon my breath I'd know an urge To dissipate monotony, and purge The spirit of its spleen; one with the man Who takes the sun blue air of Ispahan.

NATURE'S CHILD

I had a friend whose soul was very fair, His word was wisdom and his strength was sure; His courage in the ills he had to bear Made others strong and able to endure. I asked no love, no tribute of the sense For his companionship was recompense.

I thought I was beloved, but did not care, He smiled on me as he on others smiled, But one grey day a chill was in the air And then to prove that I was Nature's child, He spoke--"I do not love you very much--" And all my friendship shattered at the touch.

VERITATIS

Seated among the shards of Potiphar I pondered. Shall we still strive on? forsooth There is no better, that is good as Best, There is no truer that is true as Truth.

THE PEACOCK

She was more beautiful than tropic night, Luring, compelling as the smile of Fate; Like a poor wastrel, I for her delight Squandered my soul and gained her idle hate. Peacock and paroquet!--at last I know The sorriest songsters make the bravest show.

ANTICIPATION

The joy is in the making. While we sow Our dream is wonderful with flowers, we name The purlieus of our garden and the aim Is worth the effort, yet we cannot know The garden will be just a garden, so The dream is heaven. This way mothers frame The child's high dedication to its fame, Repaid for all reality may show.

God knows this, so He lets us have the best, The vast anticipation, rugged man Joys in the struggle, triumphs over throes, Vanquished a thousand times he still finds zest In hope and all his pleasure in a plan To be fulfilled at length in Heaven?--who knows.

THE WAYFARER

Half way to happiness, The whole way back again, Stumbling up the stubborn hill From the luring lane.

Little sunset House of Hearts Standing all alone, I could come and sweep the leaves From your stepping stone.

I, and he, could light your fires Laughing at the rain But O it's far to Happiness, A short way back again.

RENUNCIATION

Not what I ask, but what I do not ask, O my Beloved, proves my love for you. And love can set to love no harder task Than wistful silence, reticence to sue.

I lock my lips, I force a wise content With all my being wailing for a sign. Ah, if men knew what woman's smiling meant When fierce and hard the heart cries out "He's mine."

Mothers of men are we, we barren ones Who say "Be happy, dear, and play your part." What matter how we yearn, you are our sons Whose every footfall breaks a woman's heart.

ARABESQUE

Gold fish, rose and red As lady Lillith's hair, Mauve and blue as curling smoke And water-sapphires there.

At the fountain's brim I built a little dream, As a goldsmith cunningly I made it flash and gleam.

I wrought a maiden shape, I colored it with love, Scarlet mouth and breast of pearl And eyes of turtle dove.

Thro' hours of moony dark, I woo'd her for my bride But ah! I could not build her soul, So with the dawn she died.

THE ARCHITECTS

How shall we build it curiously well, Our house to live and love in?--Shall it be Only significant to you and me, Or shall it be a palace where may dwell Those whom our spirits notice? May we tell An architect to loose his fancy free To toss up towers in soaring ecstasy With Doric dignity or temple bell? Or shall we build it with our hands, alone, Working together over wood and stone To learn an art we never knew, and strive, Patient, to raise with faith and trust and love, Fashioned so cunningly it must survive, A secret cottage in a silent grove?

AMBUSH

Crafty Chieftain, where you lie You can see the clouds drift by, Waiting in the dusky fern For your enemy's return.

Does the beauty of that place Never tell you of my face, I, you left, to plot and plan For the ending of a man?--

You had better sought my aid, I have met him unafraid, We have wandered all alone Underneath a yellow moon.

We have found the end of strife Is the waking up to life-- Therefore you, who forced my vow, Take my all of wisdom now.

Love has taught me but one truth-- Love is merry, love is youth, We be children, he and I. Where is your sagacity?

THE SCALES

I wonder if the store of joy And love is limited, And if because my heart is glad Some other heart has bled.

Believing this, a balance just Of recompense, I pray That my beloved gained the joy I did not have to-day.

THE OLD TRAGEDY

Did I allure you?--I only meant to love you, I only meant to be so dear you could not let me go. I held you close against my heart, bending down above you, As mothers brood above their babes, I loved you, loved you so.

'T was passion that moved you, called to you and caught you; You never felt my tenderness full launched on your desire. You never knew the friendship and sympathy I brought you. Ah, Mary pity women when their veins are filled with fire.

And so I have lost you, I who never won you; You thought me but a siren by your crafty arts beguiled. I hate myself and scorn you for the honor I have done you. I leave you, bitter woman, and I came to you a child.

TABOO

Now am I sacred, for that holy thing, Your touch, has made me as a god; to-day I am magnificent, I am a king To whom my fellow men must cringe and pray.

Such is taboo; but when to-morrow comes I may look once upon the sun and you; Then, thro' the dawn, with wailing and sad drums I pay the utter price.--Such is taboo!

THE RIVALS

Seated in my ingle nook With Duty by my side, How I strove to see her charms And take her for my bride!

"Sweet," I said, "I love you so"-- And suddenly I heard The laughing call of Beauty's voice And all my soul was stirred.

Once again she cried my name And gone was every doubt, For who could stay at Duty's side When Beauty calls without?

ALONE

I only wanted room to be alone. I saw the days like little silver moons Cool and restrained shine forth; there were no noons To make me glad with glory, to atone. I dreamed of solitude. When one has known Ardent and eager verity, the tunes Of semi-truths are sweet, as subtle runes Attest the bud more dear than flower full blown.

To be alone, to watch the dusk and weep For beauty's face that is so veiled, to know How exquisite the earth breaths come and go, To feel my life a silent, empty room Where lovely thoughts might take new shape and bloom,-- This is the dream that is more dear than sleep.

BENEATH THE MASK

I said that men were cowards, I thought that men were brave, I said that women gained no faith For all the love they gave.

Beneath a mask of scorning I wore a heart of trust, But laughed in all my lovers' eyes And vowed their vows were dust.

Time showed my words were true ones, My thoughts have proved no test, But still beneath my mask, I say I know my dreams were best.

THOTH

Hewn from basalt, black as sin, Blind eyes staring, hands on knees,-- This is Thoth, who shall survive All your fair divinities.

Mars and Venus, piping Pan, White Diana, Cupid sweet,-- All their beauty, all their pride, Lie like ashes round his feet.

Vast and calm and ultimate Ere this orb dissolves in space Life's last glimpse to man shall be Thoth, with his impassive face.

LITTLE DANCER

O little dancer, slim as a new moon, A candle flame blown by the wind--how soon Will all this be forgotten! Do you care The pagan poppies dying in your hair; Do you despair to think that even as they Your lovely life will tarnish in a day? How can we keep you, butterfly!--O must Such lovely grace resolve itself in dust? We must believe that some day when you lie Hid from the lights, beneath the open sky The trees will bend more perfectly above you, The flowers dance gayer for they'll know and love you, And we will mind a little less the cold, Remembering your grace when we are old.

SIC ITUR AD ASTRA

If it be educational to breast Salt lipped the wave that is the woe of Earth, Who could be called a fool? There is no rest From sorrow in this island of re-birth.

And yet, ringed 'round with shadow as we are, In the penumbra we may all discern Glowing and gay the promise of a star For the adventurer with faith to yearn.

THE JUDGES

Watch me, eyes of the wind and rain, See if I come to the dusk with stain, Search me, eyes of the soaring sun, See what mischief my hands have done.

If there be beauty of word or deed, If there be truth or a scorn of greed, Give me the peace of your dark, sweet hours, Let me be still as your moon and flowers.

If there be harm to a heart that trusts, If there be pander to sordid lusts, Curse and condemn me to wide-eyed pain, Judge, and pay me, eyes of the rain.

THE SPRING PLANTING

"What shall we plant for our Summer, my boy,-- Seeds of enchantment and seedlings of joy? Brave little cuttings of laughter and light? Then shall our Summer be flowery and bright."

"Nay!--You are wrong in your planting," said he, "Have we not grass and the weeds and a tree? Why should we water and weary away For sake of a flower that lives but a day!"

So she made gardens which he would not dig, Tended her apricot, apple and fig. Then, when one morning he chanced to appear, Sadly he noticed--"No trespassing here."

AN IMPRESSIONIST PICTURE

"How do you do," I said; the yellow coat She wore was like a golden serpent's skin. I took her white gloved hand, my voice grew thin As tho' her hand were tight about my throat. The air was green with heat, a flaccid note I did not fail to see, for heat might win My cause; her weary soul looked from within And saw the white sails flapping on my boat.

"Coolness and rest" my eyes were whispering, In Isles where morn grows never afternoon, Where Passion buds forever with the Spring, Nor wanes with shifting tides of sea and moon, But--"How are you?" she said, and that was all, And tho' she smiled, she passed beyond recall.

SUCH HELP FOR SINGING

Such help I have for singing! The little winds a-stir Touch gently on the lisping leaves Like dainty dulcimer.

The sights and scents of April-- What dreams, what themes they bring-- While gaunt crows cry their gasconade Down all the ways of Spring.

Such happy help for singing! And round, below, above The air is thrilling with my joy Of love, love, love.

TEMPUS EDAX RERUM

Upon the silence of my unconcern The little noise that was your name falls dead. I can remember how your mouth was red, In the lost years, but tho' the senses yearn For some unguessed desire, they never turn To that vitality, your face!--We sped So swiftly thro' our burning hour. We said Drink deep, 't will never end; too late we learn That lovely passion's face so soon is grey, That notes too often pressed upon grow dumb, That after the high climax crowns a day The dusk seems long and empty. We who come To taste again Life's feast, why must it be We meet such ghosts to chill our revelry?

THE COWARD

Wishful of many honors, He was too lame to climb, And so he sat to wait for Death, Forgetting to be brave.

He never saw the windfalls, From off the trees of Time, Drop down in mellow chance to him The while he digged his grave.

THE LOST ROMANY

The Romany has gone, he has taken all my kisses, I knew I could not keep him, so I laughed and let him go. I do not know the road where his freedom and his bliss is, So take my sober spinning where no gypsy winds can blow.

I will find my life serene, I will wed a pleasant lover, I may think no more of perfume and the lingering in the lane; I will rear me sturdy children, and my soul I will discover, For I will not love a Romany in all this world again.

COMPENSATION

If one grew blind thro' gazing Wide-eyed upon the sun, What matter when such memoried light Would last till life were done.