 | Songs of Doubt and Dream (Poems) |  |
183
THE DYING ACTOR.
What time is it? Seven o'clock, you say? Why, then, I should be at the theatre soon.
Ah, no. .. Lying here, day after day, has set my intellect out of tune.
I remember, now. .. It was weeks ago .. thank God I have savings left me still;
We actors were always given, you know, to die without paying the doctor's bill!
Ah, no. .. Lying here, day after day, has set my intellect out of tune.
I remember, now. .. It was weeks ago .. thank God I have savings left me still;
We actors were always given, you know, to die without paying the doctor's bill!
Nay, life has not blended, at the last, that bitter torment with wasted health;
And yet, as I search the perished past, how I seem to have flung away my wealth!
'Twas easily gained, 'twas rashly spent, in times when my looks were a thing to laud,
When a bevy of fragrant notes were sent on the mornings after I played in Claude!
And yet, as I search the perished past, how I seem to have flung away my wealth!
'Twas easily gained, 'twas rashly spent, in times when my looks were a thing to laud,
When a bevy of fragrant notes were sent on the mornings after I played in Claude!
How the stubborn critics would wage their fight as to what had made me the people's choice!
Some swore it was merely my stately height, and a tricksy throb in my mellow voice.
Yet I thrilled my hearers and moved to tears, and I charmed them, whether they would or no;
There were nights in those distant youthful years when the whole house rang to my Romeo.
Some swore it was merely my stately height, and a tricksy throb in my mellow voice.
184
There were nights in those distant youthful years when the whole house rang to my Romeo.
But none could chide me for being proud while the fame I won was most broadly spread;
Though the women's praises were always loud, it is certain they never turned my head.
I was stanch to my friends through worst and best; that truth is my life's one spotless page;
They have played their parts and gone home to rest; I am talking here on an empty stage.
Though the women's praises were always loud, it is certain they never turned my head.
I was stanch to my friends through worst and best; that truth is my life's one spotless page;
They have played their parts and gone home to rest; I am talking here on an empty stage.
'Tis a sombre end for so bright a piece, this dull fifth act of the parting soul,
Ere the last sad exit has brought release, and the great green curtain begins to roll!
Yet though they left me, those trusted friends, I cannot but fancy their absence means
That they wait outside till my own part ends, and will join me somewhere behind the scenes.
Ere the last sad exit has brought release, and the great green curtain begins to roll!
Yet though they left me, those trusted friends, I cannot but fancy their absence means
That they wait outside till my own part ends, and will join me somewhere behind the scenes.
I see them here while I dream and doze .. There was Ralph, too reckless and wild by half,
With his ludicrous Punchinello nose and his full superb low-comedy laugh.
There was chubby Larry, with flaxen hair, who secretly longed to be dark and slight,
And believed his Hamlet a great affair, but was better in Falstaff any night.
185
There was chubby Larry, with flaxen hair, who secretly longed to be dark and slight,
And believed his Hamlet a great affair, but was better in Falstaff any night.
There was lean grim Peter, so much in vogue, who could govern an audience by his wink;
There was brilliant Hugh, with his witty brogue, his leaky purse and his love for drink;
And then there was rosy old Robert, too, with whom bitter fortunes were hard at strife,
Who felt himself born a Macready, and who had been handing in letters all his life.
There was brilliant Hugh, with his witty brogue, his leaky purse and his love for drink;
And then there was rosy old Robert, too, with whom bitter fortunes were hard at strife,
Who felt himself born a Macready, and who had been handing in letters all his life.
But more than these, there was brown-eyed Kate, true, generous, brave, and her own worst foe,
With a love no insults could alienate from the bad little husband who wronged her so.
Poor Kate! She would call to her lovely face that radiant smile, in the nights long-fled,
And act Lady Teazle with dazzling grace while the heart in her bosom ached and bled!
With a love no insults could alienate from the bad little husband who wronged her so.
Poor Kate! She would call to her lovely face that radiant smile, in the nights long-fled,
And act Lady Teazle with dazzling grace while the heart in her bosom ached and bled!
186
There was ancient Clarissa, feeble, gray, who had kept to the last her queenly ease,
And held herself still in so grand a way as an English duchess or French marquise.
There was plump little Emily, hailed with roars, at the best in manners not over-nice,
But who counted her loyal slaves by scores, upstairs in the gloom of the paradise.
And held herself still in so grand a way as an English duchess or French marquise.
There was plump little Emily, hailed with roars, at the best in manners not over-nice,
But who counted her loyal slaves by scores, upstairs in the gloom of the paradise.
And one ... Oh, Amy, I dare not own your love as a friend's love, weak of worth,
Though we swore the most sacred promise known, and were bound by the strongest bond on earth!
Ah me! at the summons of death's weird spell, I can see you, while pangs of memory start,
In the waiting-maid rôles you did so well, pirouetting with sweet unconscious art!
Though we swore the most sacred promise known, and were bound by the strongest bond on earth!
Ah me! at the summons of death's weird spell, I can see you, while pangs of memory start,
In the waiting-maid rôles you did so well, pirouetting with sweet unconscious art!
I remember the play when first we met—how your glad eyes haunted me from afar,
As you tripped and prattled, a pert soubrette, while I was a grave majestic “star.”
I remember when wedded joys were new .. the dawn of the troubles, the scandals coarse..
The last mad passionate interview .. the wrangle of lawyers; the stern divorce!
As you tripped and prattled, a pert soubrette, while I was a grave majestic “star.”
I remember when wedded joys were new .. the dawn of the troubles, the scandals coarse..
The last mad passionate interview .. the wrangle of lawyers; the stern divorce!
187
With wrathful scorn I have cursed your name; yet if truth be said, as I here avow,
We were both to blame, we were both to blame; in my soul I know it and feel it now!
A new strange light seems to break and shine on that dreary story of woful shame;
If the sin was yours it was also mine; we were both to blame—we were both to blame!
We were both to blame, we were both to blame; in my soul I know it and feel it now!
A new strange light seems to break and shine on that dreary story of woful shame;
If the sin was yours it was also mine; we were both to blame—we were both to blame!
Those dear lost friends, they have grouped afresh in the green room, quite as they used to do;
And Ralph has been laughing at Larry's flesh, and Peter is growling a joke to Hugh,
And Robert complains of his lowly lot, and Emily gossips with Kate. .. Ah, well,
You may all be shadows, but I am not, while I listen here for the Prompter's bell!
And Ralph has been laughing at Larry's flesh, and Peter is growling a joke to Hugh,
And Robert complains of his lowly lot, and Emily gossips with Kate. .. Ah, well,
You may all be shadows, but I am not, while I listen here for the Prompter's bell!
| Songs of Doubt and Dream (Poems) | |