The Golden Treasury of the best songs and lyrical poems in the English Language |
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| CCC. |
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| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
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| CXC. |
 | The Golden Treasury |  |
But if sin be sin, not inherited fate, as many will say,
My sin to my desolate little one found me at sea on a day,
When her orphan wail came borne in the shriek of a growing wind,
And a voice rang out in the thunders of Ocean and Heaven ‘Thou hast sinn'd.’
And down in the cabin were we, for the towering crest of the tides
Plunged on the vessel and swept in a cataract off from her sides,
And ever the great storm grew with a howl and a hoot of the blast
In the rigging, voices of hell—then came the crash of the mast.
‘The wages of sin is death,’ and there I began to weep,
‘I am the Jonah, the crew should cast me into the deep,
For ah God, what a heart was mine to forsake her even for you.’
‘Never the heart among women,’ he said, ‘more tender and true.’
‘The heart! not a mother's heart, when I left my darling alone.’
‘Comfort yourself, for the heart of the father will care for his own.’
‘The heart of the father will spurn her,’ I cried, ‘for the sin of the wife,
The cloud of the mother's shame will enfold her and darken her life.’
Then his pale face twitch'd; ‘O Stephen, I love you, I love you, and yet’—
As I lean'd away from his arms—‘would God, we had never met!’
And he spoke not—only the storm; till after a little, I yearn'd
For his voice again, and he call'd to me ‘Kiss me!’ and there—as I turn'd—
‘The heart, the heart!’ I kiss'd him, I clung to the sinking form,
And the storm went roaring above us, and he—was out of the storm.
My sin to my desolate little one found me at sea on a day,
When her orphan wail came borne in the shriek of a growing wind,
And a voice rang out in the thunders of Ocean and Heaven ‘Thou hast sinn'd.’
And down in the cabin were we, for the towering crest of the tides
Plunged on the vessel and swept in a cataract off from her sides,
And ever the great storm grew with a howl and a hoot of the blast
In the rigging, voices of hell—then came the crash of the mast.
‘The wages of sin is death,’ and there I began to weep,
‘I am the Jonah, the crew should cast me into the deep,
For ah God, what a heart was mine to forsake her even for you.’
‘Never the heart among women,’ he said, ‘more tender and true.’
237
‘Comfort yourself, for the heart of the father will care for his own.’
‘The heart of the father will spurn her,’ I cried, ‘for the sin of the wife,
The cloud of the mother's shame will enfold her and darken her life.’
Then his pale face twitch'd; ‘O Stephen, I love you, I love you, and yet’—
As I lean'd away from his arms—‘would God, we had never met!’
And he spoke not—only the storm; till after a little, I yearn'd
For his voice again, and he call'd to me ‘Kiss me!’ and there—as I turn'd—
‘The heart, the heart!’ I kiss'd him, I clung to the sinking form,
And the storm went roaring above us, and he—was out of the storm.
| The Golden Treasury | |