Yesterdays Part 17

Close, close beside me, sat a phantom form; Above the music and loud cheer on cheer That rose, and thundered like a sudden storm, I heard his low voice whispering in my ear.

A dead man's voice. You know when dead men speak There is no noise their least tone will not drown.

His sweet soft words brought blushes to my cheek, And made my happy eyelids flutter down.

There were so many gla.s.ses turned on me, My chaperon was proud. She called me fair, And said I drew their glances. Well, may be.

_I_ think they saw that dead man sitting there.

A dead man at an opera: how strange!

I know it must have seemed much out of place.

He smiled, and spoke, and there was little change In the white pallor of his perfect face.

Yet he was dead. I knew it all the while, I do not wonder people looked that way.

It seemed so odd to see a dead man smile; Its strangeness never struck me till to-day.

He rose and went out when we left our stall; Rose up, went out, and vanished in the night.

He always sits beside me in that hall, But goes when goes the music and the light.

A STRAIN OF MUSIC

In through the open window To the chamber where I lay, There came the beat of merry feet, From the dancers over the way.

And back on the wings of the music That rose on the midnight air, My rare youth came and spoke my name, And lo! I was young and fair.

Once more in the glitter of gaslight I stood in my life's glad prime: And heart and feet in a rhythm sweet Were keeping the music's time.

Like a leaf in the breeze of summer I drifted down the hall, On an arm that is cold with death and mould, And is hidden under the pall.

Once more at a low voice's whisper (A voice that is long since stilled) I felt the flush of a rising blush, And my pulses leaped and thrilled.

Once more in a sea of faces, I only saw one face; And life grew bright with a new delight, And sweet with a nameless grace.

A crash of pa.s.sionate music, A hush and a silence then; The dancers rest in their pleasure quest, And lo! I am old again.

Old and alone in my chamber, While the night wears wearily on, And the pallid wraith of a broken faith-- Keeps watch with me till the dawn.

SMOKE

Last summer, lazing by the sea, I met a most entrancing creature, Her black eyes quite bewildered me-- She had a Spanish cast of feature.

She often smoked a cigarette, And did it in the cutest fas.h.i.+on.

Before a week pa.s.sed by she set My young heart in a raging pa.s.sion.

I swore I loved her as my life, I gave her gems (don't tell my tailor).

She promised to become my wife, But whispered, 'Papa is my jailer.'

'We must be very sly, you see, For Papa will not list to reason.

You must not come to call on me Until he's gone from home a season.

'I'll send you word, now don't forget, Take this as pledge, I will remember.'

She gave me a perfumed cigarette, And turned and left me with September.

To-day she sent her 'cards' to me.

'My presence asked' to see her marry That millionaire old banker C--- She _has_ my 'presents,' so I'll tarry.

And still I feel a keen regret (About the jewels that I gave her) I've smoked the little cigarette-- It had a most delicious flavour.

AN AUTUMN DAY

Leaden skies and a lonesome shadow Where summer has pa.s.sed with her gorgeous train; Snow on the mountain, and frost on the meadow-- A white face pressed to the window pane; A cold mist falling, a bleak wind calling, And oh! but life seems vain.

Rain is better than golden weather, When the heart is dulled with a dumb despair.

Dead leaves lie where they walked together, The hammock is gone, and the rustic chair.

Let bleak snows cover the whole world over-- It will never again seem fair.

Time laughs lightly at youth's sad 'Never,'

Summer shall come again, smiling once more, High o'er the cold world the sun s.h.i.+nes for ever, Hearts that seemed dead are alive at the core.

Oh, but the pain of it--oh, but the gain of it, After the shadows pa.s.s o'er.

WISHES

Whatever you want, if you wish for it long, With constant yearning and fervent desire, If your wish soars upward on wings so strong That they never grow languid and never tire,--

Why, over the storm clouds and out of the dark It shall come flying some day to you.

As the dove with the olive branch flew to the ark, And the dream you have cherished--it shall come true.

But lest much rapture shall make you mad, Or too bright suns.h.i.+ne should strike you blind, Along with your blessing a something sad Shall come like a shadow that follows behind.

Something unwelcome and unforeseen, Yet of your hope and your wish, a part, Shall stand like a sentinel in between The perfect joy and the human heart.

I wished for a cloudless and golden day; It came, but I looked from my window to see A giant shadow which seemed to say, 'If you ask for the sunlight you must take me.'

Oh! a wonderful thing is the human will, When seeking one purpose, and serving one end; But I think it is wiser to just sit still, And accept whatever the G.o.ds may send.