 | Poems |  |
TWO LOVES.
Love beckoned me to come more near,
And wait, two women's songs to hear:
The songs ran sweet, the songs ran clear;
It seemed they never could be done.
One woman sat and sang in shade,
Her still hands on her bosom laid;
The other sat and sang in sun.
And wait, two women's songs to hear:
The songs ran sweet, the songs ran clear;
It seemed they never could be done.
One woman sat and sang in shade,
Her still hands on her bosom laid;
The other sat and sang in sun.
“I love my love,” the one song said,
“Because he lifts such kingly head,
And walks with such a kingly tread,
That men kneel down, and men confess;
And women, in soft, sad surprise,
Acknowledge, by their longing eyes,
His beauty and his goodliness.
“Because he lifts such kingly head,
And walks with such a kingly tread,
That men kneel down, and men confess;
And women, in soft, sad surprise,
Acknowledge, by their longing eyes,
His beauty and his goodliness.
103
“His glory is my soul's estate;
Breathless with love I watch and wait
The hours of his triumphant fate,
Knowing that far the greater part
Of all his joy in all his fame
Surrenders to my whispered name
In secret places of his heart.
Breathless with love I watch and wait
The hours of his triumphant fate,
Knowing that far the greater part
Of all his joy in all his fame
Surrenders to my whispered name
In secret places of his heart.
“And oh! I love my love again
With love incredulous of pain,
Because I know my beauty's chain
Binds him so sure, binds him so fast.
I know there is not one swift bliss
Which men may know, that he can miss,
Or say of it that it is past.”
With love incredulous of pain,
Because I know my beauty's chain
Binds him so sure, binds him so fast.
I know there is not one swift bliss
Which men may know, that he can miss,
Or say of it that it is past.”
This was her song, who sat in sun;
It seemed it never would be done,
Unless its joy should all outrun
Slow speech, and fall of its own weight;
As fountains their sweet source recall,
And, pausing sudden, break and fall,
In murmur inarticulate.
It seemed it never would be done,
Unless its joy should all outrun
Slow speech, and fall of its own weight;
As fountains their sweet source recall,
And, pausing sudden, break and fall,
In murmur inarticulate.
The other song, more soft, more low,
Out of the shade came floating slow,
As autumn leaves swim to and fro
In golden seas of sunny air.
Her meek hands on her bosom laid,
Sign of the cross unwitting made;
The woman was not young not fair.
Out of the shade came floating slow,
As autumn leaves swim to and fro
In golden seas of sunny air.
Her meek hands on her bosom laid,
Sign of the cross unwitting made;
The woman was not young not fair.
104
“I love my love,” the low song said,
Because his noble, kingly head
Is bowed, while, with most patient tread,
He walks hard paths he did not choose,
Smiling where other men would grieve,
Heart-glad if other men receive
Their fill of joys which he must lose.
Because his noble, kingly head
Is bowed, while, with most patient tread,
He walks hard paths he did not choose,
Smiling where other men would grieve,
Heart-glad if other men receive
Their fill of joys which he must lose.
“I see each failure he must make,
Each step he cannot but mistake;
And, weeping for his soul's dear sake,
I set my faith with love's own seal,—
Token of all which he might be,
Token of all he is to me,
As God and my own heart reveal.
Each step he cannot but mistake;
And, weeping for his soul's dear sake,
I set my faith with love's own seal,—
Token of all which he might be,
Token of all he is to me,
As God and my own heart reveal.
“And oh! I love my love again,
With love which is as strong as pain,
Because I know that by the chain
Of beauty's bond I cannot bind;
The sweetest things which make men's bliss,
In loving me, my love must miss,
In loving me, he cannot find.
With love which is as strong as pain,
Because I know that by the chain
Of beauty's bond I cannot bind;
The sweetest things which make men's bliss,
In loving me, my love must miss,
In loving me, he cannot find.
“So, fearing lest I may not feed
Always his utmost want and need,
In trust for her who can succeed
Where I must fail, his love's estate
I solemn hold. Its rightful heir,
A woman younger and more fair,
Loving my love, I bide and wait.”
Always his utmost want and need,
In trust for her who can succeed
Where I must fail, his love's estate
I solemn hold. Its rightful heir,
A woman younger and more fair,
Loving my love, I bide and wait.”
105
This was her song, who sat in shade,
Her meek hands on her bosom laid,
Sign of the cross unwitting made;
She was not young, she was not fair:
The sad notes floated sweet and slow,
As autumn leaves swim to and fro
On golden seas of sunny air.
Her meek hands on her bosom laid,
Sign of the cross unwitting made;
She was not young, she was not fair:
The sad notes floated sweet and slow,
As autumn leaves swim to and fro
On golden seas of sunny air.
“O Love!” I said, “which loveth best?
O Love, dear Love! which wins thy rest?”
But Love was gone; and, in the west,
The sun, which gave one woman sun,
And gave the other woman shade,
Sank down; on each the cold night laid
Its silence, and each song was done.
O Love, dear Love! which wins thy rest?”
But Love was gone; and, in the west,
The sun, which gave one woman sun,
And gave the other woman shade,
Sank down; on each the cold night laid
Its silence, and each song was done.
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