Chapter 4
Roses she wore on her breast that night. Oh, but their scent was sweet; Alone we sat on the balcony, and the fan-palms arched above; The witching strain of a waltz by Strauss came up to our cool retreat, And I prisoned her little hand in mine, and I whispered my plea of love.
Then sudden the laughter died on her lips, and lowly she bent her head; And oh, there came in the deep, dark eyes a look that was heaven to see And the moments went, and I waited there, and never a word was said, And she plucked from her bosom a rose of red, and shyly gave it to me.
Then the music swelled to a crash of joy, and the lights blazed up like day; And I held her fast to my throbbing heart, and I kissed her bonny brow; "She is mine, she is mine for evermore!" the violins seemed to say, And the bells were ringing the New Year in--O God! I can hear them now.
Don't you remember that long, last waltz, with its sobbing, sad refrain? Don't you remember that last goodbye, and the dear eyes dim with tears? Don't you remember that golden dream, with never a hint of pain, Of lives that would blend like an angel-song in the bliss of the coming year?
Oh, what have I lost! What have I lost! Ethel, forgive, forgive! The red, red rose is faded now, and it's fifty years ago. 'Twere better to die a thousand deaths than live each day as I live! I have sinned, I have sunk to the lowest depths--but oh, I have suffered so!
Hark! Oh hark! I can hear the bells!... Look! I can see her there, Fair as a dream ... but it fades ... And now--I can hear the dreadful hum Of the crowded court ... See! the Judge looks down ... NOT GUILTY, my Lord, I swear ... The bells, I can hear the bells again ... Ethel, I come, I come!...
* * * * *
"Rouse up, old man, it's twelve o'clock. You can't sleep here, you know. Say! ain't you got no sentiment? Lift up your muddled head; Have a drink to the glad New Year, a drop before you go-- You darned old dirty hobo ... My God! Here, boys! He's DEAD!"
COMFORT
Say! You've struck a heap of trouble-- Bust in business, lost your wife; No one cares a cent about you, You don't care a cent for life; Hard luck has of hope bereft you, Health is failing, wish you'd die-- Why, you've still the sunshine left you, And the big, blue sky.
Sky so blue it makes you wonder If it's heaven shining through; Earth so smiling 'way out yonder, Sun so bright it dazzles you; Birds a-singing, flowers a-flinging All their fragrance on the breeze; Dancing shadows, green, still meadows-- Don't you mope, you've still got these.
These, and none can take them from you; These, and none can weigh their worth. What! you're tired and broke and beaten?-- Why, you're rich--you've got the earth! Yes, if you're a tramp in tatters, While the blue sky bends above, You've got nearly all that matters, You've got God, and God is love.
PREMONITION
'Twas a year ago and the moon was bright (Oh, I remember so well, so well), I walked with my love in a sea of light, And the voice of my sweet was a silver bell.
And sudden the moon grew strangely dull, And sudden my love had taken wing; I looked on the face of a grinning skull, I strained to my heart a ghastly thing.
'Twas but fantasy, for my love lay still In my arms with her tender eyes aglow, And she wondered why my lips were chill, Why I was silent and kissed her so.
A year has gone and the moon is bright, A gibbous moon like a ghost of woe; I sit by a new-made grave to-night, And my heart is broken--it's strange, you know.
THE TRAMPS
Can you recall, dear comrade, when we tramped God's land together, And we sang the old, old Earth-song, for our youth was very sweet; When we drank and fought and lusted, as we mocked at tie and tether, Along the road to Anywhere, the wide world at our feet.
Along the road to Anywhere, when each day had its story; When time was yet our vassal, and life's jest was still unstale; When peace unfathomed filled our hearts as, bathed in amber glory, Along the road to Anywhere we watched the sunsets pale.
Alas! the road to Anywhere is pitfalled with disaster; There's hunger, want, and weariness, yet O we loved it so! As on we tramped exultantly, and no man was our master, And no man guessed what dreams were ours, as swinging heel and toe, We tramped the road to Anywhere, the magic road to Anywhere, The tragic road to Anywhere, such dear, dim years ago.
_L'ENVOI_
_You who have lived in the Land, You who have trusted the trail; You who are strong to withstand, You who are swift to assail; Songs have I sung to beguile, Vintage of desperate years Hard as a harlot's smile, Bitter as unshed tears._
_Little of joy or mirth, Little of ease I sing; Sagas of men of earth, Humanly suffering, Such as you all have done; Savagely faring forth, Sons of the midnight sun, Argonauts of the North._
_Far in the land God forgot Glimmers the lure of your trail; Still in your lust are you taught Even to win is to fail. Still must you follow and fight Under the vampire wing; There in the long, long night Hoping and vanquishing._
_Husbandmen of the Wild, Reaping a barren gain; Scourged by desire, reconciled Unto disaster and pain; These my songs are for you, You who are seared with the brand: God knows I have tried to be true; Please God you will understand._
_Printed in Great Britain by_ UNWIN BROTHERS, LIMITED WOKING AND LONDON.
Transcriber's Note:
Inconsistent hyphenation has been retained. Minor typographical errors have been corrected without note, whilst significant amendments have been listed below.
P. 22, 'greyling' amended to _grayling_. P. 58, 'trial' amended to _trail_. P. 93, 'sidways' amended to _sideways_.
End of Project Gutenberg's Songs of a Sourdough, by Robert W. Service