University of Virginia Library

MAETERLINCK.

(After a Matinée of ‘Pelléas and Melisande.’)

Why art thou dead, John Keats, not listening here
To this faint melody from Shadowland? . . .
The world dissolves, the Elfin groves appear,
And naked in their midst young Love doth stand!
Naked and wan, and, like a rose leaf, thin,
With strange sad silver on his golden hair,
He creeps o'er shadowy dew-soak'd lawns, to win
Some fairy casement glimmering ghost-like there!
The lights sink low, while sitting with no sound,
Sunk in our shadowy stalls, we two recline—
Frock-coated men and silk-clad ladies round,
And thou beside me, Demi-vierge divine!
The world dissolves, the garish streets are gone,
Fled is the City's strident harsh unrest—
Silent we watch the blind sad Love creep on
With wet weak wings and piteous wounded breast!
I cannot see thee, but my hand seeks thine,—
And following Love's faint feet we steal away,—
How shall I name thee, Demi-vierge divine,
Morgan le Faye, or Blanche la Desirée?
Ay me, the spell enwoven of woman's tears!
The sound of kisses and soft madrigals!
The forest path is haunted,—on our ears
The warm melodious rain of Dreamland falls!
And thin and pale and naked, side by side,
We follow naked Love through woodlands wan;
By all the wondering eyes of Elfland spied,
We cling and kiss as ghostly lovers can!
How shall I count our kisses in the dark?
How shall I count our feverish words and sighs?
Birds in a rain-wash'd nest, we cling and mark
Love stealing sadly on with blind red eyes! . . .
The music fades, the lights go up once more,
Silk dresses rustle, murmuring voices sound,
The spell of that lost Fairyland is o'er,
But dreaming still we rise and look around!
Then following with the crowd that seeks the light,
Out to the garish street we pass again,
And lo, thy face is glad and warm and bright,
Redeem'd from Fairyland and all its pain!

355

‘How quaint! how odd! why, one would almost think
We'd spent a chilly hour in some old tomb!
No wonder people say that Maeterlinck
Is Shakespeare's wraith, all creepiness and gloom!’
Sighing I stand and watch thee drive away,
Smiling and nodding gaily as we part,—
Morgan le Faye, or Blanche la Desirée,
Changed to a modern maid without a heart!