Part 2

If one should die of loving, Divinely wild, and brave, What matter with such dreams to dream Within the quiet grave.

UNTAMED

Ah, we weary so with kisses, Weary so with your caresses, As the hooded hawk returning To its tinkling bells and jesses, So we flutter to the prison Of your arms, in meek surrender, And we grieve when you are angry, And we smile when you are tender, But our souls, untamed, are soaring Where no blandishments can teach them, Free our hearts, and free our spirits, Where your hands can never reach them.

TO PERVANCHE

If you were mine--(for all the little flowers That see you, weary of their innocence)-- If prayers that have been pale with penitence Grew purple with our passion, all the hours From sun to sun would be unique with bliss, Little red mouth that is not mine to kiss!

You are not mine and you will never be, And so I am magnanimous, I give My love and you to Time, and you shall live Bride of his avid passion. I will see The moon of all this lure and beauty set, And I will turn from you and quite forget.

THE BELLE

She spread her atlas petticoat So rare, so fine to see. Her bonnet was of Tuscan straw, Her shawl was Turkey red. She peacocked gay before men's eyes, This lady of degree, On slippered tiny feet, and ah! She wished that she were dead.

At every ball, at every rout She was the toast of town; But no one knew who called her cold What cruel wound had she. The laughing gallant that she loved Had scorned her high renown, And now another bore his babe, And held it on her knee.

RELEASE

How may we be released from memories? One dreads each green renewal of the grain, Reviving ancient life. If but the brain Might be made clean of last year's withered lies, Blown like brown leaves across the April skies In hateful resurrection, and retain Only the springs of promise, fine and sane, And a kind, leading hand to make us wise.

If with the running sap a royal birth Each year might be accomplished, strong and free With the sweet prescience of virginity, Then were we true inheritors of earth, And the large lonely stars no more should see The age worn phoenix-lives that make our dearth.

THE THIEF

Did you see the rascal with the rain-grey eyes? He robbed me of my happiness before I knew its worth. He stole into my garden and took it by surprise, When midnight hid his wicked ways upon the sleeping earth.

How shall I arrest him, for he took away my Spring, Took away my April 'neath his cloak of steaming rain. Tho' he left his Summer and a choir of birds that sing, Nothing will content me for I want my Spring again.

I WILL WRITE LETTERS TO THE GRASS

I will write letters to my friend the grass, I will sing all my songs to lilac flowers Gather the spices in the airs that pass, And wrap my heart close shrouded in the hours.

I dread man's huge impertinence; he creeps Thro' the inviolate silences of Spring Like a marauder, waking that which sleeps To gather strength for lyric blossoming.

I will write all my letters to the grass. The world shall be resolved into a cry Faint as a little voice that cries Alas! And I will laugh alone beneath the sky.

ONLY THIS

We need demand no further gift from Heaven, We might dispense with documents and creeds, If but this one great grace to us were given-- The strength to follow where our reason leads.

THE SURVIVOR

Beauty will crumble with tasking, Love rarely lasts for a year, Virtue is sold for the asking, Bravery fades before fear.

Youth never lives till the morrow, One thing of all is alive, Joy cannot quench it, or sorrow, Folly alone shall survive.

Folly, from cradle to burning, Toys for the great and the small, None shall escape her by learning-- Folly has rattles for all!

MEGAERA

Always to suffer so, to want and weep With woe that groweth every day more deep; To don the green robe of tormented scorn, And ever curse the hour that love was born! Furies, my Sisters! have you no surcease For me to whom no death shall bring release?

They name me Jealous One. They hate my name, The ages hold me high to endless shame; How, if I suffer so, does no one care And pity, for the wrath that I must bear? Gods! let me go, your service wrecks and sears, The vase must break that holds so many tears.

THE SONG OF MOKAI

He's dead, I watched him die. He cast a spell on my mate, They loved, and the moon whirled 'round the sky, They mocked at my rage and hate.

Blood red from the burning sea The sun rose, and I knew! My soul whined wild little songs to me, I did what I had to do.

I have taken the bone of his thigh, I have fashioned it into a horn; And I sing my soul's song, shrill and high, And curse the day he was born.

TO THE GYPSY MAN

Is there no room in your gypsy heart Where a woman's love might lie Warm and sheltered, your prize and song, As you wander beneath the sky?

No, for you say, "I'll carry no weight, I must be free, be free; I'll carry no love in my gypsy heart To make a drag for me."

Little you know, then, love is the cloak That shelters you from the storm; Love makes the shoes for your gypsy feet, Love is your coat so warm.

Though you take no purse and you take no staff You cannot escape the load Of a woman's longing and woman's love That follows you down the road.

THERE IS NO DANGER IN DISDAIN

There is no danger in disdain, No grief in perfidy; The meek they are who taste of pain And matchless misery.

The hearts who give, and giving, die, Could they but learn the way To take, and laugh and then deny, They still might live their day.

THE PLAYMATE

Brown boy running on a wide wet beach, Free as the water and the wind are free; Eyes of an odalisque and skin of a peach, O for such a playmate to play with me!--

Drenched with the sunshine of the long brave hours, How we would tumble in the white wild spray; Then, drowsy children, fall asleep like the flowers, And wake keen and merry to a new clean day.

AFTERWARDS

You know how I came to you, World beaten, tossed aside; Ready for death at a hangman's hand, Stript of all hope or pride.

Leaning, you gathered me up Close to your great sweet heart, Lulled me and told me to be a man, Taught me your wonderful art.

Now I am very wise, Proud with your love's true vow; Glorious with power,--I am more than a man, What will you do with me now!

THE OLD MAID

Ah, Heaven! How soon my body will be old! I powder and I perfume and I tire With the long wasting of my one desire. I choose fair colors, furs, and antique gold To draw men's eyes and hands, and yet how cold, How careless are their eyes. I see the fire Flame from my neighbor, and I can aspire To only friendship. I have tried the bold, The luring attitude, the timid mien, The boyish, wise, or simple, all in vain. I know the women laugh at me, but oh, How can I let my dreamed perfection go? I am a woman, I must have a man Only to ratify my nature's plan.

MADNESS?

They say I'm mad because I stare And look as tho' they were not there, Because I only speak when aught Occurs to me by way of thought.

Instead of serving Fashion's creeds, I cut my coat to fit my needs. I laugh at grief and only weep When noisy life disturbs my sleep.

My dreams are delicate and wild; Was ever wise man so beguiled?-- Mad, am I mad!--then pray that you May some day hope for madness too!

THE SCHOLAR

From what sweet masters have I fathomed doubt, What love and laughter taught me to be blind; How patient did they point the letters out Latin and Greek to my bewildered mind.

Now I am very wise, I know the 'a' The little 'a' of doubt's first faint distress Then, letter perfect, I recall the way Thro' all the alphabet of bitterness.

WISDOM'S SECRET

Coerced by Furies who persuaded me That life was imminent with idleness, Their jibes made mad, their lashes aided me To grasp the accident of bitterness.

Come storm! I cried, come passion and despair, For calm inhibits growth!--I called on fire To sear my comfortable days, and wear The nights to wastes of torment and desire.

Then pausing breathless, in a little wood I met with Wisdom laughing in the sun; She said, "Lie still, for idleness is good, And grow in peace as I myself have done."

CAGED

Once I had wings--I had no heart to fly, They put me in a cage, I did not die. They tamed me, taught me tricks and bade me sing; I waited, bore it patiently; one thing I knew, that some day it might be The cage would open and I should be free. I waited endlessly,--at last the day! Faint with delight I thought to fly away, Ah, but the mockery of that open door!-- My wings were powerless, I could fly no more.

THE WIFE SPEAKS

Not all those women you have loved and left, O my Beloved, can stir my jealousy; Not the light loves which you forgot for me, For my heart's fingers made by life most deft Have mended all the rents their arrows cleft And from their old enchantments set you free. But one is my despair, and only she, The one who loved you, hopeless and bereft.

How can I give as much, who hold your heart As she, unloved who gave with scorn of gain? So do the angels; at her name I smart And feel a sordid bargainer who gives For fair exchange; I cannot heal the pain, I am defeated by her while she lives.

THE ALTAR

Some take comfort from a star, Thro' the slow grey surge of Time, Some take joy from ruddy war, Lust of conflict, heat of crime.

In these days of codes and creeds, Gods may wander newly born, Every day for each man's needs Bringing blessings thro' the morn.

I will take a happy word, Open heart and hand for play, And a song which none have heard For my altar of the day.

* * * * *

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