Feda with Other Poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

Yet Anton lingered, and the weeks went by
Waiting to cast his Psyche. May drew nigh,
With still seas and returning nightingales,
Yet now they never set the painted sails
At moon-rise. Now she seldom cared to sing
As once she used, but it was grown to spring,
And still her cheek was paler. Yet he stayed
From day to day, and evermore delayed
The statue's casting; and now May was gone.

It was the day before the day whereon
He should go Northward; he was grown aware
Something had changed him, he could hardly bear
The look of Adrien's eyes, so trusting still,
So innocent of any boding ill,
Of any cloud between them, while he knew
His own heart's heart half loyal, half untrue.

And he could look into her soul and see;
For souls that love are quick to sympathy;

Her faith had all been centred on one truth
In fervent worship, all the dreams of youth,
All first ideals, all things holy and high
Seen with child-adoration, seemed to lie
With her as woman, dedicate above
To woman's self abandonment in Love.

The child of love, and nurtured on romance,
Rich with so fatal an inheritance,
Kept from the world's unfaith, a life apart,
Unwarped from trust and judging from the heart,
The one thing waited for was over-past,
And she had found out love too late at last.

Then he went forth and wondered all that day:
These many weeks he had known he must not stay,
But courage failed him, he had still deferred
The hour of parting, now he only heard
A little voice that cried—“too late, too late,”
“What hast thou done!”—And then in fierce selfhate
He cursed his weakness, he had meant to hide
His secret,—and, he thought—the world was wide,

Why were we thrown together—just we three
Of all that live and love? Why need it be
This one of all on earth, this only one?
Oh, fool! what hast thou done, what hast thou done!

We were so well together once, and fate
Has set between us—ah no, no, not hate!
Not hate, but needs division, oh, my friend,
My master, angel!—and is this the end
Of our ideals? Wherefore, oh, my God!
Was this the goal to which we slowly trod?
We—hand in hand—to where love cannot be
In the world evermore twixt me and thee!

He found a shepherd on the hills, and stayed
And talked with him a little while, and played
With the young kids; he could not be alone
With that intolerable monotone
Of Grilli in the ilex trees;—until
It grew near even, and across the hill
He watched them enter by the village gate—
And the far waves moaned to him, “Too late! too late!”

Alone still, hollow-hearted, seeing naught,
He wandered up and down, and thought, and thought
How should he live the morrow through and hide
This cursed thing from Adrien, and, blank-eyed,
Stared through the tree-trunks, where the setting sun
Burned red, and the waves wailed, “What hast thou done?”

And the sun stood one moment on the wave,
Then slowly sank, and day was in its grave;
And hope and faith and all things seemed to die.

But suddenly he came under the clear sky
Out of the gloom and mystery of the wood,
On the free hill-side; and awhile he stood
Just where he met them that first autumn eve;
Now he had done what tears could not retrieve
Or penitence atone, or years undo;
Had come between the trusting and the true,
And cursed the hand that blessed.
And cursed the hand that blessed.

Then faint and far
Beyond the rose-flush grew the evening star.

And the sky changed, the hills changed, and the sea,
Only that star beamed downward stedfastly,
Beamed through the twilight, till at last there stole
A white ray down that pierced into his soul,
Unbarred his heart, and made all wild thoughts cease
With sense of calm and permanence and peace,
And seemed to say, “one right, one light, one wrong,
“Too late is never though deferred too long,
“Do I not outshine many storms!”

And so
He changed his wavering purpose, he would go
To Adrien, speak out manfully and true,
And tell him all he dreaded, all he knew,
In expiation;—and then go his way
For ever if need be, or till some day
They bade him come again—his mind was set,
And he was quite calm now—so they two met.

And what he said!—only a long while they walked
The shore that evening, and talked on and talked
Gently and bravely, and so at the last

Took hands as men do who are moved, and passed
Together silent up into the tower.

And it was moonrise in a little hour.

Then Adrien; “Since to-morrow parts us two,
“Let us go out as we were used to do
“Once more across the sea, which has so long
“Cradled our dreams—let us sing one more song,
“We three together! Once more let us steer
“Along the moonpath as we did last year,
“Into the old dream-havens!”

And so they
Went down the rock-path to the little bay,
And it was sultry under a clear sky—
Scirocco air, or thunder gathering nigh;
And the world seemed not sleeping, only still
And waiting; slowly through a rift of hill
Rose the wan moon beyond, and weirdly rang
The lute strings pausing to the song she sang:—

Sail and row! sail and row!
Where do the ships in the waters go?

Cloud or sun, cloud or sun,
All the ways of the ships are one.

Night and day, night and day,
Love's land looks over the waves alway.

Star and moon, star and moon,
Will guide us into the haven soon.

Moon and star! moon and star!
We have sailed and sailed, and it still is far.

Heart in heart, hand in hand,
But the bark was lost in sight of the land.

She knew not why she chose that song to sing,
Only upon the last line faltering
Laid the lute by, and would not sing again.
And Adrien watched her with a numbing pain,
Pale as the foam there in the pale moonlight.
And then she said, “Turn back now, for to-night
“I have a foolish dread; it feels as though

“There lay a curse upon the world.” And so
They turned and rowed in silence back to land.

And Anton said, “Good night.” She felt his hand
Burn through her fingers, and she wondered why.
He said, “Good night; it is not quite good-bye,
“For we have all to-morrow ere we part.”

Then first she felt that something in her heart
Was severed—something gone for evermore;
She could not see things clearly as before,
And the vague terror of some unknown sin
Changed all the stars, and darkened from within.
And scared as one that marches to his doom,
She went into her little raftered room
And stared across the silence. None to share
This wild foreboding that she could not bear
What might the morrow bring!

And then she dreamed
The room grew full of presences, it seemed
Those white-robed sisters drew to her bedside
And looked so loving, and so gentle-eyed,

Not one reproachful, as they would express
“From our safe haven are we come to bless;
“You chose the world's way, sister, yet be brave
“For you chose well, and we are come to save
“Those wandering feet from falling,” Then she knelt,
Reaching her arms towards them, and so felt
A hand upon her forehead, and heard one say,
“Child, when the heart is troubled, kneel and pray.”
And one out in the shadow saw her rise,
With rain of tears in sorrow-wistful eyes,
And kneel on the cold marble, Adrien heard
Her prayer go skyward, weeping word by word;
For “Lord,” she said, “the way is very steep
“And I have wandered far, thou, therefore, keep
“My feet from falling; I am come between
“The noblest love of friendship ever seen,
“And I am bound to what I may not love,
“And what I love is out of reach above
“All earthly hope; therefore, forgive my cry,
“It was so lonely that I longed to die.
“Now therefore, Lord, have pity on Thy child,
“Who seeks Thy mercy to be reconciled;

“Therefore, forgive me if I dare to pray,
“Whose heart had wandered, Lord, so far away,
“For well I know it had I but loved Thee,
“Thy love would cast him out, and leave me free.”
Then she lay down upon her little bed,
All her hair's gold entangled round her head;
And the young eyes were grown too tired to weep,
So gently closed, and then she fell on sleep,
And he still watched her in the shadow light.
Then he went out into the sultry night.
There was no stir of wind in any tree,
No faintest ripple on the glass-calm sea;
The very stars shone wanly overhead,
The worst was answered now, and all the world seemed dead.