 | The poems and sonnets of Louise Chandler Moulton |  |
221
His Second Wife Speaks.
If two lives join there is oft a scar,
They are one and one with a shadowy third.
Browning.
They are one and one with a shadowy third.
Browning.
223
I.
A PARABLE.
I longed for rest, and some one spoke me fair,
And proffered goodly rooms wherein to dwell,
Hung round with tapestries, and garnished well,
That I might take mine ease and pleasure there;
And there I sought a refuge from despair,
A joy that should my life's long gloom dispel;
But ominously through those halls there fell
Strange sounds, as of old music in the air.
And proffered goodly rooms wherein to dwell,
Hung round with tapestries, and garnished well,
That I might take mine ease and pleasure there;
And there I sought a refuge from despair,
A joy that should my life's long gloom dispel;
But ominously through those halls there fell
Strange sounds, as of old music in the air.
As day went down, the music grew apace,
And in the moonlight saw I, white and cold,
A presence radiant in the radiant space,
With smiling lips that never had grown old;
And then I knew the secret none had told,
And shivered there, an alien in that place.
And in the moonlight saw I, white and cold,
A presence radiant in the radiant space,
With smiling lips that never had grown old;
And then I knew the secret none had told,
And shivered there, an alien in that place.
224
II.
SILENT.
I will not speak. For ever from old days
Another voice assails him; shall mine come
To break that perfect music? Make me dumb,
God, who art merciful! and of thy grace
Keep my lips silent. I have heard him praise
Her speech, as sweet as late bird singing home,
And soft as on far shore breaks the pale foam,
Tender as twilight's peace on woodland ways.
Another voice assails him; shall mine come
To break that perfect music? Make me dumb,
God, who art merciful! and of thy grace
Keep my lips silent. I have heard him praise
Her speech, as sweet as late bird singing home,
And soft as on far shore breaks the pale foam,
Tender as twilight's peace on woodland ways.
I serve his pleasure, wait with ears attent;
Indeed, it well befits me to be meek:
His joy is passed, his fortune has been spent,
And I—he found me when he turned to seek,
In place of bliss, some pale and dull content—
I will be faithful, but I will not speak.
Indeed, it well befits me to be meek:
His joy is passed, his fortune has been spent,
And I—he found me when he turned to seek,
In place of bliss, some pale and dull content—
I will be faithful, but I will not speak.
225
III.
A SECOND PLACE.
I would, indeed, that Heaven had made me meek,
Content to hold and fill a second place,
Take lesser love as undeservèd grace,
And bow my thankful head when one should speak
Me gently, touch with careless hand my cheek,
Or bend sometimes and kiss my unpraised face,
Since she, forsooth, is in her far-off place
For whom his highest homage seemed too weak.
Content to hold and fill a second place,
Take lesser love as undeservèd grace,
And bow my thankful head when one should speak
Me gently, touch with careless hand my cheek,
Or bend sometimes and kiss my unpraised face,
Since she, forsooth, is in her far-off place
For whom his highest homage seemed too weak.
But I was made with passionate, strong soul,
And what I would, I would have wholly mine;
And if I bow my head to Love's control,
And to his keeping all myself consign,
It must be Love that answers to my need,
That loves me wholly, and is Love indeed.
And what I would, I would have wholly mine;
And if I bow my head to Love's control,
And to his keeping all myself consign,
It must be Love that answers to my need,
That loves me wholly, and is Love indeed.
226
IV.
ALONE IN DEATH.
Alone in Death I think my heart will be;
I have no dead to wait me in that land,
And if with thee I entered, hand in hand,
When her voice called wouldst thou not turn from me,
And leave me lonely by that jasper sea—
Lonely, forever, on that silent strand,
When with entreaty stronger than command
Her languorous, low tones invited thee?
I have no dead to wait me in that land,
And if with thee I entered, hand in hand,
When her voice called wouldst thou not turn from me,
And leave me lonely by that jasper sea—
Lonely, forever, on that silent strand,
When with entreaty stronger than command
Her languorous, low tones invited thee?
And she would find my kisses on thy mouth,
And yet forgive thee with a royal grace,
Because, when she had gone, too long the drouth,
The uncheered waiting her divine embrace—
And I, O God! should long to die again,
Yet face my immortality of pain.
And yet forgive thee with a royal grace,
Because, when she had gone, too long the drouth,
The uncheered waiting her divine embrace—
And I, O God! should long to die again,
Yet face my immortality of pain.
227
V.
FACE TO FACE.
Thou gazest in mine eyes and thine are wet;
Thy hand seeks mine, and clings, and holds me fast;
“The present,” dost thou say, “and not the past
Means light and joy and hope. I am beset
With idle fears. Thy heart in my heart met
Its all of love and faith—the spell I cast
Will bind thee, while the soul in thee shall last,
And the next life shall pay this life's dear debt.”
Thy hand seeks mine, and clings, and holds me fast;
“The present,” dost thou say, “and not the past
Means light and joy and hope. I am beset
With idle fears. Thy heart in my heart met
Its all of love and faith—the spell I cast
Will bind thee, while the soul in thee shall last,
And the next life shall pay this life's dear debt.”
Thine eyes seem true! Thy words! Ah she can hear!
From her high place I think she sees thee now;
Draw back thine hand, if but one shade of fear
Of her reproach assail thee. I will bow
To Fate's decree—from blame thou shalt be clear—
Thou wilt not? ... We will face her,—I and thou!
From her high place I think she sees thee now;
Draw back thine hand, if but one shade of fear
Of her reproach assail thee. I will bow
To Fate's decree—from blame thou shalt be clear—
Thou wilt not? ... We will face her,—I and thou!
| The poems and sonnets of Louise Chandler Moulton | |