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 | The poems of Edmund Clarence Stedman |  |
THE TEST
Seven women loved him. When the wrinkled pall
Enwrapt him from their unfulfilled desire
(Death, pale, triumphant rival, conquering all,)
Enwrapt him from their unfulfilled desire
(Death, pale, triumphant rival, conquering all,)
They came, for that last look, around his pyre.
One strewed white roses, on whose leaves were hung
Her tears, like dew; and in discreet attire
One strewed white roses, on whose leaves were hung
Her tears, like dew; and in discreet attire
Warbled her tuneful sorrow. Next among
The group, a fair-haired virgin moved serenely,
Whose saintly heart no vain repinings wrung,
The group, a fair-haired virgin moved serenely,
Whose saintly heart no vain repinings wrung,
Reached the calm dust, and there, composed and queenly,
Gazed, but the missal trembled in her hand:
“That 's with the past,” she said, “nor may I meanly
Gazed, but the missal trembled in her hand:
“That 's with the past,” she said, “nor may I meanly
Give way to tears!” and passed into the land.
The third hung feebly on the portals, moaning,
With whitened lips, and feet that stood in sand,
The third hung feebly on the portals, moaning,
With whitened lips, and feet that stood in sand,
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So weak they seemed,—and all her passion owning.
The fourth, a ripe, luxurious maiden, came,
Half for such homage to the dead atoning
The fourth, a ripe, luxurious maiden, came,
Half for such homage to the dead atoning
By smiles on one who fanned a later flame
In her slight soul, her fickle steps attended.
The fifth and sixth were sisters; at the same
In her slight soul, her fickle steps attended.
The fifth and sixth were sisters; at the same
Wild moment both above the image bended,
And with immortal hatred each on each
Glared, and therewith her exultation blended,
And with immortal hatred each on each
Glared, and therewith her exultation blended,
To know the dead had 'scaped the other's reach!
Meanwhile, through all the words of anguish spoken,
One lowly form had given no sound of speech,
Meanwhile, through all the words of anguish spoken,
One lowly form had given no sound of speech,
Through all the signs of woe, no sign nor token;
But when they came to bear him to his rest,
They found her beauty paled,—her heart was broken:
But when they came to bear him to his rest,
They found her beauty paled,—her heart was broken:
And in the Silent Land his shade confest
That she, of all the seven, loved him best.
That she, of all the seven, loved him best.
| The poems of Edmund Clarence Stedman | |