 | 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition |  |
NEW LIFE.
My life was darkness, though the varied bloom
Of rank and riches and of art
Their dazzling lustre gave me, for the gloom
Was in my very heart;
And, though around we throbbed a thousand charms,
That wooed me sweetly on
With the white waving of voluptuous arms,
The light was gone;
And, though my fortune slaked each wanton whim
Of glorious sight
Or gracious sound, my soul was truly dim
As night.
Of rank and riches and of art
Their dazzling lustre gave me, for the gloom
Was in my very heart;
And, though around we throbbed a thousand charms,
That wooed me sweetly on
With the white waving of voluptuous arms,
The light was gone;
And, though my fortune slaked each wanton whim
Of glorious sight
Or gracious sound, my soul was truly dim
As night.
For I was old, and all my early grace
Had with my early comrades fled,
And time had stamped upon my furrowed face
The blight upon the dead;
I had outlived a hundred friends and faiths,
And found, though they did strike
Fair as the glimmer of mere corpses' wraiths,
Them false alike;
I had essayed to grasp the trick of Truth,
With mocking gleam,
And fancied it was with departed youth
A dream.
Had with my early comrades fled,
And time had stamped upon my furrowed face
The blight upon the dead;
I had outlived a hundred friends and faiths,
And found, though they did strike
Fair as the glimmer of mere corpses' wraiths,
Them false alike;
I had essayed to grasp the trick of Truth,
With mocking gleam,
And fancied it was with departed youth
A dream.
And all seemed hopeless, I went drifting down
From shadow to the darker shade,
That stared still at me like a murderer's frown,
And unto murder bade;
When from the midnight, and its framework wild
More dreadful yet to be,
Stept beautifully forth a maiden child,
And smiled on me;
And, lo, my golden path, that gave no rest—
That seemed but mire,
Grew soft and lovely, as I felt her breast
Of fire.
From shadow to the darker shade,
That stared still at me like a murderer's frown,
And unto murder bade;
When from the midnight, and its framework wild
More dreadful yet to be,
Stept beautifully forth a maiden child,
And smiled on me;
And, lo, my golden path, that gave no rest—
That seemed but mire,
Grew soft and lovely, as I felt her breast
Of fire.
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She breathed new hope in my cold withered heart,
With her young beauty glad and strange,
Which now became an undivided part
Of all my blesséd change;
Her touch of flame, in a caressing flood
Of laughter and of tears,
Poured through the summer of my quickened blood
Diviner fears;
And now I hold her, as a mailèd glove
Against the strife,
And drink in the deep passion of her love
New life.
With her young beauty glad and strange,
Which now became an undivided part
Of all my blesséd change;
Her touch of flame, in a caressing flood
Of laughter and of tears,
Poured through the summer of my quickened blood
Diviner fears;
And now I hold her, as a mailèd glove
Against the strife,
And drink in the deep passion of her love
New life.
| 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition | |