Verses by W. H. Mallock :: :: University of Virginia Library

TO MADAME DE ------

[_]

(FROM AN UNPUBLISHED NOVEL)

I

What gift shall I give you? Suppose, if you please,
I had houses and acres and fashion and fame,
And a name,—Need I tell you, my friend, that of these
I could give you not one, dear—not even my name?

II

But something I must give—a something with qualities
To move you or prove you. So since, as I've said,
I can't give the things that the world calls realities,
I bring you my hopes. Will you take them instead?

III

They are excellent hopes. I can speak, for I know them.
I've nursed them and reared them through good and through ill.
And they in return—you can't think what I owe them—
When all things had left me, they clung to me still.

IV

As the days and the nights became lonelier and colder,
As I slept with a sigh, or awoke with a moan,
They were by me, to breathe, with their cheeks on my shoulder,
‘Take courage: you shall not be always alone!’

V

How simply they spoke! yet they chased my dejection;
For they hinted of one who should come through the gloom,
To the hearthstone of life with the fire of affection,
And should turn to a chamber what else were a tomb.

VI

How trite were their phrases! Yet all that was tragic
Was touched by their voice, and receded from life:
For they sang a redemption, a passion and a magic
Into words such as home, and a hearth, and a wife:

VII

Till what seems to the youth like a vain iteration
Of copy-book platitudes bought by the quire,
Was flamed on the man like a new revelation
Of the glory of God in a scripture of fire.

VIII

Yes—that's what my hopes did. Despair and complaining
They turned into patience; and day after day,
When my darkness returned, like the clouds after raining,
They would soothe me and cheer me, and sing it away.

IX

Tell me, then—will you take them?—my gift that I'm bringing?
But before you accept them, there's this to be said—
'Tis merely that now they have done with their singing.
They are silent. I've killed them. I bring you my dead.

X

Nay, turn not away in disgust from their faces.
Look at least on them once; and perhaps you will see
That to you, dear, my mute ones still speak from their places;
And you'll hear them, and murmur, ‘He killed these for me.’