Love Letters of a Violinist and Other Poems Part 14

Believe me, Love! I honour, night and day, The name of Woman. 'Tis the n.o.bler s.e.x.

Villains may shame it; sorrows may perplex; But still 'tis watchful. Man may take away All its possessions, all its worldly sway, And yet be wors.h.i.+pp'd by the soul he wrecks.

XVIII.

A word of love to Woman is as sweet As nectar'd rapture in a golden bowl; And when she quaffs the heavens asunder roll, And G.o.d looks through. And, from his judgment-seat, He blesses those who part, and those who meet, And those who join the links of soul with soul.

XIX.

And are there none untrue? G.o.d knows there are!

Aye, there are those who learn in time the laugh That ends in madness--women who for chaff Have sold their corn--who seek no guiding-star, And find no faith to light them from afar; Of whom 'tis said: "They need no epitaph."

XX.

All this is known; but lo! for sake of One Who lives in glory--for my mother's sake, For thine, and hers, O Love!--I pity take On all poor women. Jesu's will be done!

Honour for all, and infamy for none, This side the borders of the burning lake.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Letter XII VICTORY]

LETTER XII.

VICTORY.

I.

Now have I reach'd the goal of my desire, For thou hast sworn--as sweetly as a bell Makes out its chime--the oath I love to tell, The fealty-oath of which I never tire.

The lordly forest seems a giant's lyre, And sings, and rings, the thoughts that o'er it swell.

II.

The air is fill'd with voices. I have found Comfort at last, enthralment, and a joy Past all belief; a peace without alloy.

There is a splendour all about the ground As if from Eden, when the world was drown'd, Something had come which death could not destroy.

III.

It seems, indeed, as if to me were sent A smile from Heaven--as if to-day the clods Were lined with silk--the trees divining rods, And roses gems for some high tournament.

I should not be so proud, or so content, If I could sup, to-night, with all the G.o.ds.

IV.

A shrined saint would change his place with me If he but knew the worth of what I feel.

He is enrobed indeed, and for his weal Hath much concern; but how forlorn is he!

How pale his pomp! He cannot sue to thee, But I am sainted every time I kneel.

V.

I walk'd abroad, to-day, ere yet the dark Had left the hills, and down the beaten road I saunter'd forth a mile from mine abode.

I heard, afar, the watchdog's sudden bark, And, near at hand, the tuning of a lark, Safe in its nest, but weighted with an ode.

VI.

The moon was pacing up the sky serene, Pallid and pure, as if she late had shown Her outmost side, and fear'd to make it known; And, like a nun, she gazed upon the scene From bars of cloud that seemed to stand between, And pray'd and smiled, and smiled and pray'd alone.

VII.

The stars had fled. Not one remain'd behind To warn or comfort; or to make amends For hope delay'd,--for ecstasy that ends At dawn's approach. The firmament was blind Of all its eyes; and, wanton up the wind, There came the shuddering that the twilight sends.

VIII.

The hills exulted at the Morning's birth,-- And clouds a.s.sembled, quick, as heralds run Before a king to say the fight is won.

The rich, warm daylight fell upon the earth Like wine outpour'd in madness, or in mirth, To celebrate the rising of the sun.

IX.

And when the soaring lark had done its prayer, The holy thing, self-poised amid the blue Of that great sky, did seem, a s.p.a.ce or two, To pause and think, and then did clip the air And dropped to earth to claim his guerdon there.

"Thank G.o.d!" I cried, "My dearest dream is true!"

X.

I was too happy, then, to leap and dance; But I could ponder; I could gaze and gaze From earth to sky and back to woodland ways.

The bird had thrill'd my heart, and cheer'd my glance, For he had found to-day his nest-romance, And lov'd a mate, and crown'd her with his praise.

XI.

O Love! my Love! I would not for a throne, I would not for the thrones of all the kings Who yet have liv'd, or for a seraph's wings, Or for the nod of Jove when night hath flown, Consent to rule an empire all alone.

No! I must have the grace of our two rings.

XII.

I must possess thee from the crowning curl Down to the feet, and from the beaming eye Down to the bosom where my treasures lie.

From blush to blush, and from the rows of pearl That light thy smile, I must possess thee, girl, And be thy lord and master till I die.