 | The poems of Madison Cawein |  |
78
WOMAN'S PORTION
I
The leaves are shivering on the thorn,
Drearily;
And sighing wakes the sad-eyed morn,
Wearily.
Drearily;
And sighing wakes the sad-eyed morn,
Wearily.
I press my thin face to the pane,
Drearily;
But never will he come again.
Wearily.
Drearily;
But never will he come again.
Wearily.
The rain hath sicklied day with haze,
Drearily;
My tears run downward as I gaze,
Wearily.
Drearily;
My tears run downward as I gaze,
Wearily.
The mist and morn spake unto me,
Drearily:—
“What is this thing God gives to thee,
Wearily?”
Drearily:—
“What is this thing God gives to thee,
Wearily?”
79
I said unto the morn and mist,
Drearily:—
“The babe unborn whom sin hath kissed,
Wearily.”
Drearily:—
“The babe unborn whom sin hath kissed,
Wearily.”
The morn and mist spake unto me,
Drearily:—
“What is this thing which thou dost see,
Wearily?”
Drearily:—
“What is this thing which thou dost see,
Wearily?”
I said unto the mist and morn,
Drearily:—
“The shame of man and woman's scorn,
Wearily.”
Drearily:—
“The shame of man and woman's scorn,
Wearily.”
“He loved thee not,” they made reply,
Drearily.—
I said, “Would God had let me die!”
Wearily.
Drearily.—
I said, “Would God had let me die!”
Wearily.
II
My hopes are as a closed-up book,
Drearily,
Upon whose clasp of love I look
Wearily.
Drearily,
Upon whose clasp of love I look
Wearily.
80
All night the rain raved overhead,
Drearily;
All night I wept, awake in bed,
Wearily.
Drearily;
All night I wept, awake in bed,
Wearily.
I heard the wind sweep wild and wide,
Drearily;
And turned upon my face and sighed
Wearily.
Drearily;
And turned upon my face and sighed
Wearily.
The wind and rain spake unto me,
Drearily:—
“What is this thing God takes from thee,
Wearily?”
Drearily:—
“What is this thing God takes from thee,
Wearily?”
I said unto the rain and wind,
Drearily:—
“The love, for which my body sinned,
Wearily.”
Drearily:—
“The love, for which my body sinned,
Wearily.”
The rain and wind spake unto me,
Drearily:—
“What are these things that burden thee,
Wearily?”
Drearily:—
“What are these things that burden thee,
Wearily?”
I said unto the wind and rain,
Drearily:—
“Past joys, and dreams whose ghosts remain,
Wearily.”
Drearily:—
“Past joys, and dreams whose ghosts remain,
Wearily.”
81
“Thou lov'st him still,” they made reply,
Drearily.—
I said, “Would God that I could die!”
Wearily.
Drearily.—
I said, “Would God that I could die!”
Wearily.
| The poems of Madison Cawein | |