 | The Baroness of New York |  |
V.
How beautiful she was! Why, she
Was inspiration. She was born
To walk God's summer-hills at morn
Nor waste her by a wood-dark sea.
What wonder, then, her soul's white wings
Beat at the bars, like living things?
Was inspiration. She was born
To walk God's summer-hills at morn
Nor waste her by a wood-dark sea.
What wonder, then, her soul's white wings
Beat at the bars, like living things?
She ofttime sighed, and wandered through
The sea-bound wood, then stopped and drew
Her hand above her head, and swept
The lonesome sea, and ever kept
Her face to sea, as if she knew
Some day, some near or distant day,
Her destiny should come that way.
The sea-bound wood, then stopped and drew
Her hand above her head, and swept
The lonesome sea, and ever kept
Her face to sea, as if she knew
Some day, some near or distant day,
Her destiny should come that way.
How proud she was! How purely fair!
How full of faith, of love and strength!
Her great, proud eyes! Her great hair's length—
Her long, strong, tumbled, careless hair,
Half curled and knotted anywhere,
From brow to breast, from cheek to chin,
For love to trip and tangle in.
How full of faith, of love and strength!
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Her long, strong, tumbled, careless hair,
Half curled and knotted anywhere,
From brow to breast, from cheek to chin,
For love to trip and tangle in.
At last a weary sail was seen.
It came so slow, so wearily,
Came creeping cautious up the sea,
As if it crept from out between
The half-closed sea and sky that lay
Tight wedged together, far away.
It came so slow, so wearily,
Came creeping cautious up the sea,
As if it crept from out between
The half-closed sea and sky that lay
Tight wedged together, far away.
She watched it, wooed it. She did pray
It might not pass her by, but bring
Some love, some hate, some anything,
To break the awful loneliness
That like a nightly nightmare lay,
Upon her proud and pent-up soul,
Until it hardly brooked control.
It might not pass her by, but bring
Some love, some hate, some anything,
To break the awful loneliness
That like a nightly nightmare lay,
Upon her proud and pent-up soul,
Until it hardly brooked control.
To think of it! This hairy priest:
Then men as rude as ruthless beast:
And that was all this great soul knew
Of empire she was born unto.
O, it was pitiful to see!
Here hung a ripe peach from the tree,
And not one man among them all
That stood up strong enough, or tall
Enough to pluck it ere it fall.
Then men as rude as ruthless beast:
And that was all this great soul knew
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O, it was pitiful to see!
Here hung a ripe peach from the tree,
And not one man among them all
That stood up strong enough, or tall
Enough to pluck it ere it fall.
The ship crept feebly up the sea,
And came—You cannot understand
How grand she was, how sudden she
Had sprung, full-grown, to womanhood:
How gracious, yet how tall and grand;
How glorified, yet fresh and free,
How human, yet how more than good.
And came—You cannot understand
How grand she was, how sudden she
Had sprung, full-grown, to womanhood:
How gracious, yet how tall and grand;
How glorified, yet fresh and free,
How human, yet how more than good.
The ship stole slowly, slowly on—
If you in Californian field
In ample flower time have seen
Her soft, south rose lift like a shield
Against the sudden sun, at dawn—
If you in far-famed flower-land,
In middle summer-time have seen
The China rose, like Orient Queen
In court extravagance, uphold
Her gorgeous self, all suddenly
A double handfull of heaped gold,
Why you, perhaps, may understand
How splendid and how sudden she
Shot up beside that South-west sea.
If you in Californian field
In ample flower time have seen
Her soft, south rose lift like a shield
Against the sudden sun, at dawn—
If you in far-famed flower-land,
In middle summer-time have seen
The China rose, like Orient Queen
In court extravagance, uphold
Her gorgeous self, all suddenly
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Why you, perhaps, may understand
How splendid and how sudden she
Shot up beside that South-west sea.
The storm-worn ship scarce seemed to creep
From wave to wave. It scarce could keep—
How grand my lady stood, how tall!
How proud her presence as she stood
Between the vast sea and west wood!
How large and liberal her soul,
How confident, how kind to all,
How trusting; how untried the whole
Great heart, grand faith, defying fall!
From wave to wave. It scarce could keep—
How grand my lady stood, how tall!
How proud her presence as she stood
Between the vast sea and west wood!
How large and liberal her soul,
How confident, how kind to all,
How trusting; how untried the whole
Great heart, grand faith, defying fall!
This child was as Madonna to
The tawny, brawny, lonely few
Who touched her hand and knew her soul.
She drew them, drew them as the pole
Points all things to itself. She drew
Men upward as a moon of spring,
High wheeling, vast and bosom full,
Half clad in clouds and white as wool,
Draws all the strong seas following.
The tawny, brawny, lonely few
Who touched her hand and knew her soul.
She drew them, drew them as the pole
Points all things to itself. She drew
Men upward as a moon of spring,
High wheeling, vast and bosom full,
Half clad in clouds and white as wool,
Draws all the strong seas following.
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And yet she was as sad, as lone
As that same moon that leans above
And seems to search all heaven through,
For one brave love to be her own—
For some strong, all-sufficient love
To lean upon, to love, to woo—
To walk her high, blue world, to seek
Some place to rest her pallid cheek.
As that same moon that leans above
And seems to search all heaven through,
For one brave love to be her own—
For some strong, all-sufficient love
To lean upon, to love, to woo—
To walk her high, blue world, to seek
Some place to rest her pallid cheek.
O! I did know a sad white dove
That died for some sufficient love—
Some high-born soul with wings to soar,
That stood up equal in his place,
That looked her level in the face,
Nor wearied her with leaning o'er,
To lift him where she lonely trod,
In sad delight the hills of God.
That died for some sufficient love—
Some high-born soul with wings to soar,
That stood up equal in his place,
That looked her level in the face,
Nor wearied her with leaning o'er,
To lift him where she lonely trod,
In sad delight the hills of God.
How slow before the sultry wind,
That lazy ship from isles or Ind.
How like to Dido by her sea,
When reaching arms imploringly,
Her large, round, rich, expressive arms,
Suggesting hoards of hidden charms,
This one fair lady leaning stood
Above the sea by belt of wood.
That lazy ship from isles or Ind.
How like to Dido by her sea,
When reaching arms imploringly,
Her large, round, rich, expressive arms,
Suggesting hoards of hidden charms,
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Above the sea by belt of wood.
The sea winds housed within her hair.
She wooed the brave ship to the shore
With thoughts she had not felt before.
The ship rolled o'er the lazy seas,
Her shrouds were shreds, her masts were trees.
The maiden held her blowing hair,
That bound her swelling neck about,
She let it go, it blew in rout
About her bosom full and bare.
Her round, full arms were free as air,
Her hands were clasped as clasped in prayer.
She wooed the brave ship to the shore
With thoughts she had not felt before.
The ship rolled o'er the lazy seas,
Her shrouds were shreds, her masts were trees.
The maiden held her blowing hair,
That bound her swelling neck about,
She let it go, it blew in rout
About her bosom full and bare.
Her round, full arms were free as air,
Her hands were clasped as clasped in prayer.
The breeze sprang up, the battered ship
Began to flap his weary wings;
The tall, torn masts began to dip
And walk the wave like living things.
She rounded in, she struck the stream,
She moved like tall ship in a dream.
Began to flap his weary wings;
The tall, torn masts began to dip
And walk the wave like living things.
She rounded in, she struck the stream,
She moved like tall ship in a dream.
A captain kept the deck. He stood
A Hercules among his men,
And now he watched the sea and then
He peered as if to pierce the wood.
And then he laughed in merry mood,
As mocking fate, half desperate,
And cheered his men with ready wit,
Of Irish sort, as counting it
A jolly jest to find, at last
The land, and all their perils past.
A Hercules among his men,
And now he watched the sea and then
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And then he laughed in merry mood,
As mocking fate, half desperate,
And cheered his men with ready wit,
Of Irish sort, as counting it
A jolly jest to find, at last
The land, and all their perils past.
He now looked back, as if pursued,
Then swept the shore with glass, as though
He fled or feared some mortal foe.
And yet he jested all the whiles
And wreathed his lifted lips in smiles.
Then swept the shore with glass, as though
He fled or feared some mortal foe.
And yet he jested all the whiles
And wreathed his lifted lips in smiles.
Slow sailing up the river's mouth,
Slow tacking north and tacking south,
He touched the steep shore where she stood;
He touched the overhanging wood;
He tacked his ship, his tall, black mast
Touched tree-top mosses as he passed.
Slow tacking north and tacking south,
He touched the steep shore where she stood;
He touched the overhanging wood;
He tacked his ship, his tall, black mast
Touched tree-top mosses as he passed.
Her hands still clasped as if in prayer;
Sweet prayer set to silentness;
Her great, white throat uplifted, bare
And beautiful. Her eager face
Illum'd with love and tenderness,
And all her presence gave a grace
Dark shadowed in her cloud of hair.
Sweet prayer set to silentness;
Her great, white throat uplifted, bare
And beautiful. Her eager face
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And all her presence gave a grace
Dark shadowed in her cloud of hair.
He saw. He could not speak. No more
With lifted glass he sought the sea.
No more he laughed all carelessly;
No more he watched the wild, new shore.
Now foes may come or friends may flee,
He will not speak, he would not stir,
He sees but her, he fears but her.
With lifted glass he sought the sea.
No more he laughed all carelessly;
No more he watched the wild, new shore.
Now foes may come or friends may flee,
He will not speak, he would not stir,
He sees but her, he fears but her.
The black ship rounded to the shore,
She ground against the bank as one
With long and weary journey done,
That would not rise to journey more.
Yet still the tall, proud captain stood
And gazed against that wall of wood.
She ground against the bank as one
With long and weary journey done,
That would not rise to journey more.
Yet still the tall, proud captain stood
And gazed against that wall of wood.
At last he roused and stepped to land,
Like some Columbus.
They laid hand
On land and fruit, and rested there.
And who was he? And who were they,
The few he found that landing day?
We do not know. They did not care.
Like some Columbus.
They laid hand
On land and fruit, and rested there.
And who was he? And who were they,
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We do not know. They did not care.
Convenient custom. No man knew
His neighbor's creed. Each man began
A fair race with his fellow man,
As Christian-like as ancient Jew;
As if 'twere some earth-fashioned heaven
Where all who came had been forgiven.
Where each man's oak-ancestral stood
Above his head, the native wood.
His neighbor's creed. Each man began
A fair race with his fellow man,
As Christian-like as ancient Jew;
As if 'twere some earth-fashioned heaven
Where all who came had been forgiven.
Where each man's oak-ancestral stood
Above his head, the native wood.
They met, this maiden and this man:
He, laughing in the face of fate,
Yet proud and resolute and bold.
She, coy at first, and mute and cold,
Held back and seemed to hesitate—
Half frightened at this love that ran
Hard gallop till her hot heart beat
Like sounding of swift courser's feet.
He, laughing in the face of fate,
Yet proud and resolute and bold.
She, coy at first, and mute and cold,
Held back and seemed to hesitate—
Half frightened at this love that ran
Hard gallop till her hot heart beat
Like sounding of swift courser's feet.
Two strong streams of a land must run
Together surely as the sun
Succeeds the moon. Who shall gainsay
The gods that reign? That wisely reign.
Love is, love was, shall be again.
Like death, inevitable it is—
Perchance like death, the dawn of bliss.
Let us then love the perfect day,
The twelve o'clock of life, and stop
The two hands pointing to the top,
And hold them tightly while we may.
Together surely as the sun
Succeeds the moon. Who shall gainsay
The gods that reign? That wisely reign.
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Like death, inevitable it is—
Perchance like death, the dawn of bliss.
Let us then love the perfect day,
The twelve o'clock of life, and stop
The two hands pointing to the top,
And hold them tightly while we may.
How beautiful she was! The walks
By wooded ways; the silent talks
Beneath the broad and fragrant bough,
The dark, deep wood, the dense, black dell,
Where scarce a single gold beam fell
From out the sun. They rested now
On mossy trunk. They wandered then
By paths of beasts, through tall fern fen
Where never fell the foot of men.
And yet she was as pure and white
As angel, and as fearless quite.
By wooded ways; the silent talks
Beneath the broad and fragrant bough,
The dark, deep wood, the dense, black dell,
Where scarce a single gold beam fell
From out the sun. They rested now
On mossy trunk. They wandered then
By paths of beasts, through tall fern fen
Where never fell the foot of men.
And yet she was as pure and white
As angel, and as fearless quite.
Of fear, of falsehood, or of shame—
She did not even know the name
Of doubt, of falsehood or deceit.
How firmly set her honest feet
By square and compass and the rule
Of truth that needs nor creed or school.
She did not even know the name
Of doubt, of falsehood or deceit.
How firmly set her honest feet
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Of truth that needs nor creed or school.
And looking in this strangers eyes,
This man that overtopped all men,
She heard him tell, in hushed surprise
And pity, of his battles, when
He bled for freedom, how he fell
A prisoner—the prison cell—
The banishment from holy home,
Green Erin, in her girt of foam,
To far Australian fetters, and
His flight in perils from the land
In stolen ship. Then at his feet
She sat, all tenderness and tears;
She bade him rest, put by his fears
And rest forever. This retreat
Were surely safe and sweet with peace.
Then springing up she raised her hand,
“Behold, behold, this boundless land!
Here God has built high freedom's wall,
And drawn a line that tyranny
Shall not invade. Here fat increase
Awaits the gathering. Why strive
And stir the thickly-peopled hive
While here all lone the honey tree
Droops fragrant and forever free?”
This man that overtopped all men,
She heard him tell, in hushed surprise
And pity, of his battles, when
He bled for freedom, how he fell
A prisoner—the prison cell—
The banishment from holy home,
Green Erin, in her girt of foam,
To far Australian fetters, and
His flight in perils from the land
In stolen ship. Then at his feet
She sat, all tenderness and tears;
She bade him rest, put by his fears
And rest forever. This retreat
Were surely safe and sweet with peace.
Then springing up she raised her hand,
“Behold, behold, this boundless land!
Here God has built high freedom's wall,
And drawn a line that tyranny
Shall not invade. Here fat increase
Awaits the gathering. Why strive
And stir the thickly-peopled hive
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Droops fragrant and forever free?”
And as she spake, her great arms bare
Save when the folds and flow of hair
Blew down about them, and her face
Upheld to heaven with a grace
That shamed man's eloquence, this man
Believed he loved her, and the zest
Of enterprise and battle's plan
He thought to put aside and rest,
Forever rest and deem it best.
Save when the folds and flow of hair
Blew down about them, and her face
Upheld to heaven with a grace
That shamed man's eloquence, this man
Believed he loved her, and the zest
Of enterprise and battle's plan
He thought to put aside and rest,
Forever rest and deem it best.
How beautiful! How proud and free!
How more than Greek or Tuscan she
In full development. Her mouth
Was majesty itself. Give me
A mouth as warm as summer south—
A great, Greek mouth, for through this gate
Man first must pass to love's estate.
How more than Greek or Tuscan she
In full development. Her mouth
Was majesty itself. Give me
A mouth as warm as summer south—
A great, Greek mouth, for through this gate
Man first must pass to love's estate.
Her mouth was inspiration. Pride
And pity blessed it side by side.
'Twas large and generous, arched out
By dimples and a tempting pout;
Playful, proud; lips ne'er the same,
Yet ever warm as weded flame.
And pity blessed it side by side.
'Twas large and generous, arched out
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Playful, proud; lips ne'er the same,
Yet ever warm as weded flame.
She scarcely spoke. All seemed a dream,
She would not waken from. She lay
All night but waiting for the day
When she might see his face and deem
This man, with all his perils passed,
Had found his Lotus-land at last.
She would not waken from. She lay
All night but waiting for the day
When she might see his face and deem
This man, with all his perils passed,
Had found his Lotus-land at last.
Then longer walks, then deeper woods,
Then tender words, sufficient sweet,
In denser, greener solitudes—
Sweet, careless ways for careless feet,
Sweet talks of paradise for two,
And only two, to watch or woo.
Then tender words, sufficient sweet,
In denser, greener solitudes—
Sweet, careless ways for careless feet,
Sweet talks of paradise for two,
And only two, to watch or woo.
Betime upon the ancient moss
With mighty boughs high clanged across,
The man with sweet words, over-sweet,
Fell pleading plaintive at her feet.
With mighty boughs high clanged across,
The man with sweet words, over-sweet,
Fell pleading plaintive at her feet.
She sat upon a mossy throne,
An ancient pine, long ages prone,
And overgrown with brown green moss,
And many a frail vine twined across.
The wood was dark as caverned seas,
Save where one gold-beam through the trees,
Shot down about her throne and shed
A still, soft halo round her head.
An ancient pine, long ages prone,
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And many a frail vine twined across.
The wood was dark as caverned seas,
Save where one gold-beam through the trees,
Shot down about her throne and shed
A still, soft halo round her head.
He spoke of love, of boundless love,
Of love that knew no other land,
Or face, or place, or anything;
Of love that like the wearied dove
Could light nowhere, but kept the wing
Till she alone put forth her hand,
And so received it in her ark,
From outer seas and storm and dark.
Of love that knew no other land,
Or face, or place, or anything;
Of love that like the wearied dove
Could light nowhere, but kept the wing
Till she alone put forth her hand,
And so received it in her ark,
From outer seas and storm and dark.
He clasped her hand, climbed past her knees,
Forgot her hands and kissed her hair:
The while her two hands clasped in prayer,
And fair face lifted to the trees.
Her proud breast heaved, her pure, white breast
Rose like some sea in its unrest.
Forgot her hands and kissed her hair:
The while her two hands clasped in prayer,
And fair face lifted to the trees.
Her proud breast heaved, her pure, white breast
Rose like some sea in its unrest.
Her mouth was lifted as if she
Disdained the cup of passion he
Had pressed her pouting lips to touch.
She stood as some storm-stricken tree;
She stood a tower, tall as when
Old Roman mothers suckled men
Of old-time truth and taught them such.
Disdained the cup of passion he
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She stood as some storm-stricken tree;
She stood a tower, tall as when
Old Roman mothers suckled men
Of old-time truth and taught them such.
At last she bended down her face,
She leaned, then pushed him back apace,
Then caught his eye. Calm, silently
Her eyes looked down into his eyes,
As one looks down some mossy well
In hope by some weird chance to tell
By image there what future lies
Before him, and what face shall be
The pole-star of his destiny.
She leaned, then pushed him back apace,
Then caught his eye. Calm, silently
Her eyes looked down into his eyes,
As one looks down some mossy well
In hope by some weird chance to tell
By image there what future lies
Before him, and what face shall be
The pole-star of his destiny.
“And you do love me, Doughal?” She
Was trembling as the courser when
His thin flank quivers, and his feet
Touch velvet on the turf, and he
Is all afoam, alert, and fleet
As sunlight glancing on the sea
And full of triumph before men.
She rose in all her majesty.
“And you do love me, Doughal?” He,
Forgetting then his careless air,
Uprose like some great, gathered sea,
Some strong, third wave that thunders on
In hollow hoarseness, daring all
Resistance that might rise or fall:
Was trembling as the courser when
His thin flank quivers, and his feet
Touch velvet on the turf, and he
Is all afoam, alert, and fleet
As sunlight glancing on the sea
And full of triumph before men.
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“And you do love me, Doughal?” He,
Forgetting then his careless air,
Uprose like some great, gathered sea,
Some strong, third wave that thunders on
In hollow hoarseness, daring all
Resistance that might rise or fall:
“I do swear, yea, swear
By all the peace and love that lies
Through upper paths of Paradise,
I love. I seem to rise or fall
With you. My stormy past is gone,
A tale that's told. I shall grow old
And die with you. Your blown black hair
Shall be my banner in the fight
By day, and mantle me by night.”
By all the peace and love that lies
Through upper paths of Paradise,
I love. I seem to rise or fall
With you. My stormy past is gone,
A tale that's told. I shall grow old
And die with you. Your blown black hair
Shall be my banner in the fight
By day, and mantle me by night.”
“Nay, swear not, Doughal! you do love”—
Her arms were wide with welcome. She
Stood tall and worthy conquest now,
And sweet love sat her lifted brow
A diadem. The storm-blown dove
Took refuge from the deluged sea
And her two hands went out for it
In eager welcome, warm and fit.
Her arms were wide with welcome. She
Stood tall and worthy conquest now,
And sweet love sat her lifted brow
A diadem. The storm-blown dove
Took refuge from the deluged sea
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In eager welcome, warm and fit.
Her proud throat swelled, her lips were dumb,
But all her presence bade him come.
Her eyes looked level in his eyes.
They flowed with love. Her half-pent sighs
Were drowned by his strong, flowing sea
Of passion, surging ceaselessly.
But all her presence bade him come.
Her eyes looked level in his eyes.
They flowed with love. Her half-pent sighs
Were drowned by his strong, flowing sea
Of passion, surging ceaselessly.
Pure child of nature, as she was,
And lawless lover; loving him
With love that made all pathways dim
And difficult where he was not,
And knowing only nature's laws
That laid hard tribute on desire
And tried her as a seven-fold fire—
Then marvel not at form forgot.
She sighed, she bended down her brow,
She battled not with nature now.
And lawless lover; loving him
With love that made all pathways dim
And difficult where he was not,
And knowing only nature's laws
That laid hard tribute on desire
And tried her as a seven-fold fire—
Then marvel not at form forgot.
She sighed, she bended down her brow,
She battled not with nature now.
Why should she? Doth the priest know aught
Of sign, or holy unction brought
From over sea that ever can
Make man love maid or maid love man
One whit the more, one bit the less,
For all his mummeries to bless?
Yea, all his blessing or his ban?
Of sign, or holy unction brought
From over sea that ever can
Make man love maid or maid love man
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For all his mummeries to bless?
Yea, all his blessing or his ban?
Her form bent down, a laden bough
Of ripest, richest kisses now.
A kiss of passion? More or less?
I do not say. You dare not guess.
And yet do what he dared or might
She kept her white soul snowy white.
Of ripest, richest kisses now.
A kiss of passion? More or less?
I do not say. You dare not guess.
And yet do what he dared or might
She kept her white soul snowy white.
“I love you, Doughal.” And her arms
Wound round his neck, and all her charms
Lay like ripe fruit for gathering.
He drowned his hot face in her hair,
He felt her bosom swell. The air
Swooned sweet with essence of her form.
Her breast was warm, her breath was warm,
And warm her warm, tremendous mouth
As summer journey through the South.
Wound round his neck, and all her charms
Lay like ripe fruit for gathering.
He drowned his hot face in her hair,
He felt her bosom swell. The air
Swooned sweet with essence of her form.
Her breast was warm, her breath was warm,
And warm her warm, tremendous mouth
As summer journey through the South.
The air was rich as Araby:
She swooned upon his breast. She lay,
Long tossed by passion, on his breast,
Hot blushing for this love confessed:
Like some poor wreck and cast-away
All breathless and unconscious lay.
Yet mind, I say, do what he might
She kept her pure soul snowy white.
She swooned upon his breast. She lay,
Long tossed by passion, on his breast,
Hot blushing for this love confessed:
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All breathless and unconscious lay.
Yet mind, I say, do what he might
She kept her pure soul snowy white.
A bright brown nut dropped like a star
From woody heaven overhead,
A wild beast trumpeting afar
Aroused her ere the light had fled.
From woody heaven overhead,
A wild beast trumpeting afar
Aroused her ere the light had fled.
A stray, dead leaf was in her hair—
Her long, strong, tumbled storm of hair;
Her eyes seemed floating anywhere.
Her proud development, half bare,
And beautiful as chiseled stone
Of famed far Napoli, leaned there
Like some fair Thracian overthrown.
Her long, strong, tumbled storm of hair;
Her eyes seemed floating anywhere.
Her proud development, half bare,
And beautiful as chiseled stone
Of famed far Napoli, leaned there
Like some fair Thracian overthrown.
She was not shamed. Her love was high
And pure and fair as heaven's blue.
Her love was passionate, yet true
As upward flame. A stifled sigh
And then a flood of tears, and lo!
A sigh that shook her being so
It startled Doughal where he stood,
Like some bowed monarch of the wood.
And pure and fair as heaven's blue.
Her love was passionate, yet true
As upward flame. A stifled sigh
And then a flood of tears, and lo!
A sigh that shook her being so
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Like some bowed monarch of the wood.
Her proud face now fell white as wool,
Her lips fell pale and pityful.
Her great, proud mouth, a splendid flower
Drooped pale and passionless. Her arms
Reached out in suppliance. Her charms
Like ravished lilies lay.
Until this hour
She had been all herself. But now
She trusted not herself. Somehow
The sighs would come, and come, and come,
Though eyes bent down, though lips kept dumb,
As seas that beat upon the shore.
Her soul was beaten as a shore
Is beaten by a storm just o'er
That will but beat and beat the more.
Her lips fell pale and pityful.
Her great, proud mouth, a splendid flower
Drooped pale and passionless. Her arms
Reached out in suppliance. Her charms
Like ravished lilies lay.
Until this hour
She had been all herself. But now
She trusted not herself. Somehow
The sighs would come, and come, and come,
Though eyes bent down, though lips kept dumb,
As seas that beat upon the shore.
Her soul was beaten as a shore
Is beaten by a storm just o'er
That will but beat and beat the more.
She did essay to go. Again
She drooped, a goddess slain.
She lay half lounging in a strange surprise,
Scarce knowing what she wholly knew.
She did not lift her face, her eyes—
Her eyes were on the ground. They grew
Familiar with the meek-eyed plant,
Familiar with the little ant,
And other insects as they ran
And built their lowly world: all wise,
In perfect carelessness of man.
She drooped, a goddess slain.
She lay half lounging in a strange surprise,
Scarce knowing what she wholly knew.
She did not lift her face, her eyes—
51
Familiar with the meek-eyed plant,
Familiar with the little ant,
And other insects as they ran
And built their lowly world: all wise,
In perfect carelessness of man.
He rose before her, sighed, “Alas!”
Looked down as if to catch her eyes,
Recall her soul and bid her rise—
Her soul that kept its snowy white,
Dare what he dared, do what he might.
Looked down as if to catch her eyes,
Recall her soul and bid her rise—
Her soul that kept its snowy white,
Dare what he dared, do what he might.
He spoke. She did not answer him.
Her small hand clutched a tuft of grass
As if she feared the world might pass
From out her hand, she was so weak.
And lifting, doubtfully and dim,
Her brimming eyes—she could not speak
For flood of tears upon her cheek.
Her small hand clutched a tuft of grass
As if she feared the world might pass
From out her hand, she was so weak.
And lifting, doubtfully and dim,
Her brimming eyes—she could not speak
For flood of tears upon her cheek.
O it was pitiful! He fell
Upon his knees. He took her hand,
But not with ardor now, and well
She marked the difference.
The land,
Seemed reeling still. Yet with a will
She rose and stood up tall and grand.
Upon his knees. He took her hand,
But not with ardor now, and well
She marked the difference.
52
Seemed reeling still. Yet with a will
She rose and stood up tall and grand.
No words she spoke. With drooping eyes
She passed along the path. The pride
Of yesterday was overthrown.
She would have crept along alone,
But he came stealing at her side
Half looking back.
She passed along the path. The pride
Of yesterday was overthrown.
She would have crept along alone,
But he came stealing at her side
Half looking back.
In mad surprise
He saw that priest with black-beast eyes
Still at their side, with waving hand,
As if to wave him from the land—
As waving him from Paradise.
He saw that priest with black-beast eyes
Still at their side, with waving hand,
As if to wave him from the land—
As waving him from Paradise.
| The Baroness of New York | |