 | Songs of Doubt and Dream (Poems) |  |
277
ILLEGITIMACY.
(Spoken in a Prison-Cell.)
I robbed you amid the crowd
While the play sent forth its throng.
Let the wrong be all avowed,
If it was indeed a wrong.
You came when you read my message? Well,
You are welcome here, in this dull cell.
While the play sent forth its throng.
Let the wrong be all avowed,
If it was indeed a wrong.
You came when you read my message? Well,
You are welcome here, in this dull cell.
With want (and with envy, too)
I was sick to the very bone;
And yet when I stole from you
'Twas because of yourself alone,
As you passed me in the crowds thick press.
With your handsome superciliousness!
I was sick to the very bone;
And yet when I stole from you
'Twas because of yourself alone,
As you passed me in the crowds thick press.
With your handsome superciliousness!
I had known you for years by sight...
Let the bitter truth be told...
My poor dead mother, one night,
First pointed you out of old.
Your lighted windows looked on the street
Where we two watched amid whistling sleet.
Let the bitter truth be told...
My poor dead mother, one night,
First pointed you out of old.
Your lighted windows looked on the street
Where we two watched amid whistling sleet.
The lacqueys, by some mischance,
Had left the curtains undrawn;
You romped in a wild glad dance,
Like a lovely and restless fawn.
You were six years old, all mirth and grace,
With no pride yet in your rosy face.
Had left the curtains undrawn;
You romped in a wild glad dance,
278
You were six years old, all mirth and grace,
With no pride yet in your rosy face.
Rich carpets and mirrors clear
Gleamed round you in lavish pomp;
Your stately father stood near
And smiled as he saw you romp,
And spoke now and then with loving air
To the wife at ease in her tufted chair.
Gleamed round you in lavish pomp;
Your stately father stood near
And smiled as he saw you romp,
And spoke now and then with loving air
To the wife at ease in her tufted chair.
My mother grew deathly white
While she watched the glowing room.
I can see her, on that drear night,
Through the sleety and windy gloom
Stretching out her wasted fingers, red
From toil with the needle, as she said:
While she watched the glowing room.
I can see her, on that drear night,
Through the sleety and windy gloom
Stretching out her wasted fingers, red
From toil with the needle, as she said:
“One reared amid splendors there;
One having not even a name!
One tended with dainty care;
One cursed with hunger and shame!”
What strange hard words for a child were those!
Yet I've understood them since, God knows!
One having not even a name!
One tended with dainty care;
One cursed with hunger and shame!”
What strange hard words for a child were those!
Yet I've understood them since, God knows!
| Songs of Doubt and Dream (Poems) | |