 | English Roses |  |
IN A CIRCLE.
He fixed his burning eyes on me—
Alas, the day!
And bade me follow him, and see
The wonders of the world to be—
A bitter way,
And so I followed him and went—
Alas, the road!—
With raiment bright and bosom rent,
Unshriven though a penitent
With lust as load.
But never had the night a morn,
And each misgiving was a thorn.
Alas, the day!
And bade me follow him, and see
The wonders of the world to be—
A bitter way,
And so I followed him and went—
Alas, the road!—
With raiment bright and bosom rent,
Unshriven though a penitent
With lust as load.
But never had the night a morn,
And each misgiving was a thorn.
He summoned me to be his slave—
Alas, the woe!—
And, as my dower, in passion gave
A heart that was a secret grave,
My chiefest foe.
And then I served with willing deed—
Alas, the choice!—
The sin I hated, in my need,
Which was the future's fatal seed
And judgment voice.
I served him for no golden hire,
But as his fellow in the fire.
Alas, the woe!—
And, as my dower, in passion gave
A heart that was a secret grave,
My chiefest foe.
And then I served with willing deed—
Alas, the choice!—
The sin I hated, in my need,
Which was the future's fatal seed
And judgment voice.
I served him for no golden hire,
But as his fellow in the fire.
He laid his burden on my head—
Alas, the rood!—
And nourished me with tears for bread,
With husks and mockery of the dead
And barren food.
But faith was dreaming, earth and sky—
Alas, I slept!—
And God and man and mystery
Were bound in awful unity,
And likewise wept.
For in the darkness seemed a bond,
Which married all to all beyond.
Alas, the rood!—
And nourished me with tears for bread,
With husks and mockery of the dead
And barren food.
But faith was dreaming, earth and sky—
Alas, I slept!—
And God and man and mystery
Were bound in awful unity,
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For in the darkness seemed a bond,
Which married all to all beyond.
He made me follow him through hell—
Alas, the fall!—
Though there I found Salvation dwell,
And heard an angel deem it well
With trumpet call.
I only knew the purging flame—
Alas, the sin!—
Could cleanse me from my evil shame,
And to the fuel of my frame
Was close akin.
I washed me from the clinging stain,
With him, to get the soil again.
Alas, the fall!—
Though there I found Salvation dwell,
And heard an angel deem it well
With trumpet call.
I only knew the purging flame—
Alas, the sin!—
Could cleanse me from my evil shame,
And to the fuel of my frame
Was close akin.
I washed me from the clinging stain,
With him, to get the soil again.
He would not suffer me to rest—
Alas, the pangs!—
And let his poison build a nest
Deep in the torment of my breast,
With cruel fangs.
But though he chained me tighter still—
Alas, the friend!—
And worked on me his grievous will,
I followed him through good and ill
Unto the end.
For he grew weary of his toy,
And sought another prey and joy.
Alas, the pangs!—
And let his poison build a nest
Deep in the torment of my breast,
With cruel fangs.
But though he chained me tighter still—
Alas, the friend!—
And worked on me his grievous will,
I followed him through good and ill
Unto the end.
For he grew weary of his toy,
And sought another prey and joy.
I, who had fronted wrong and wrack—
Alas, so late!—
At length turned humbly homeward back,
To the dear little house of lack
And cottage gate.
But there, though I had travelled o'er—
Alas, my path!—
The world, and gat no goodly store,
I gleaned in wiser love and lore
Some aftermath.
I found new life for every loss,
Thus in the shadow of the Cross.
Alas, so late!—
At length turned humbly homeward back,
To the dear little house of lack
And cottage gate.
But there, though I had travelled o'er—
Alas, my path!—
The world, and gat no goodly store,
I gleaned in wiser love and lore
Some aftermath.
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Thus in the shadow of the Cross.
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