The Poems of Henry Van Dyke Part 18

My little April lady, Of suns.h.i.+ne and of showers She weaves the old spring magic, And my heart breaks in flowers!

But when her moods are ended, She nestles like a dove; Then, by the pain and rapture, I know her name is Love.

A LOVER'S ENVY

I envy every flower that blows Along the meadow where she goes, And every bird that sings to her, And every breeze that brings to her The fragrance of the rose.

I envy every poet's rhyme That moves her heart at eventime, And every tree that wears for her Its brightest bloom, and bears for her The fruitage of its prime.

I envy every Southern night That paves her path with moonbeams white, And silvers all the leaves for her, And in their shadow weaves for her A dream of dear delight.

I envy none whose love requires Of her a gift, a task that tires: I only long to live to her, I only ask to give to her, All that her heart desires.

FIRE-FLY CITY

Like a long arrow through the dark the train is darting, Bearing me far away, after a perfect day of love's delight: Wakeful with all the sad-sweet memories of parting, I lift the narrow window-shade and look out on the night.

Lonely the land unknown, and like a river flowing, Forest and field and hill are gliding backward still athwart my dream; Till in that country strange, and ever stranger growing, A magic city full of lights begins to glow and gleam.

Wide through the landscape dim the lamps are lit in millions; Long avenues unfold clear-s.h.i.+ning lines of gold across the green; Cl.u.s.ters and rings of light, and luminous pavilions,-- Oh, who will tell the city's name, and what these wonders mean?

Why do they beckon me, and what have they to show me?

Crowds in the blazing street, mirth where the feasters meet, kisses and wine: Many to laugh with me, but never one to know me: A cityful of stranger-hearts and none to beat with mine!

Look how the glittering lines are wavering and lifting,-- Softly the breeze of night scatters the vision bright: and, pa.s.sing fair, Over the meadow-gra.s.s and through the forest drifting, The Fire-Fly City of the Dark is lost in empty air!

THE GENTLE TRAVELLER

"Through many a land your journey ran, And showed the best the world can boast: Now tell me, traveller, if you can, The place that pleased you most."

She laid her hands upon my breast, And murmured gently in my ear, "The place I loved and liked the best Was in your arms, my dear!"

NEPENTHE

Yes, it was like you to forget, And cancel in the welcome of your smile My deep arrears of debt, And with the putting forth of both your hands To sweep away the bars my folly set Between us--bitter thoughts, and harsh demands, And reckless deeds that seemed untrue To love, when all the while My heart was aching through and through For you, sweet heart, and only you.

Yet, as I turned to come to you again, I thought there must be many a mile Of sorrowful reproach to cross, And many an hour of mutual pain To bear, until I could make plain That all my pride was but the fear of loss, And all my doubt the shadow of despair To win a heart so innocent and fair; And even that which looked most ill Was but the fever-fret and effort vain To dull the thirst which you alone could still.

But as I turned, the desert miles were crossed, And when I came, the weary hours were sped!

For there you stood beside the open door, Glad, gracious, smiling as before, And with bright eyes and tender hands outspread Restored me to the Eden I had lost.

Never a word of cold reproof, No sharp reproach, no glances that accuse The culprit whom they hold aloof,-- Ah, 'tis not thus that other women use The empire they have won!

For there is none like you, beloved,--none Secure enough to do what you have done.

Where did you learn this heavenly art,-- You sweetest and most wise of all that live,-- With silent welcome to impart a.s.surance of the royal heart That never questions where it would forgive?

None but a queen could pardon me like this!

My sovereign lady, let me lay Within each rosy palm a loyal kiss Of penitence, then close the fingers up, Thus--thus! Now give the cup Of full nepenthe in your crimson mouth, And come--the garden blooms with bliss, The wind is in the south, The rose of love with dew is wet-- Dear, it was like you to forget!

DAY AND NIGHT

_How long is the night, brother, And how long is the day?_ Oh, the day's too short for a happy task, And the day's too short for play; And the night's too short for the bliss of love, For look, how the edge of the sky grows gray, While the stars die out in the blue above, And the wan moon fades away.

_How short is the day, brother, And how short is the night?_ Oh, the day's too long for a heavy task, And long, long, long is the night, When the wakeful hours are filled with pain, And the sad heart waits for the thing it fears, And sighs for the dawn to come again,-- The night is a thousand years!

_How long is a life, dear G.o.d, And how fast does it flow?_ The measure of life is a flame in the soul: It is neither swift nor slow.

But the vision of time is the shadow cast By the fleeting world on the body's wall; When it fades there is neither future nor past, But love is all in all.

HESPER

Her eyes are like the evening air, Her voice is like a rose, Her lips are like a lovely song, That ripples as it flows, And she herself is sweeter than The sweetest thing she knows.

A slender, haunting, twilight form Of wonder and surprise, She seemed a fairy or a child, Till, deep within her eyes, I saw the homeward-leading star Of womanhood arise.

ARRIVAL

Across a thousand miles of sea, a hundred leagues of land, Along a path I had not traced and could not understand, I travelled fast and far for this,--to take thee by the hand.

A pilgrim knowing not the shrine where he would bend his knee, A mariner without a dream of what his port would be, So fared I with a seeking heart until I came to thee.

O cooler than a grove of palm in some heat-weary place, O fairer than an isle of calm after the wild sea race, The quiet room adorned with flowers where first I saw thy face!

Then furl the sail, let fall the oar, forget the paths of foam!

The fate that made me wander far at last has brought me home To thee, dear haven of my heart, and I no more will roam.

DEPARTURE

Oh, why are you s.h.i.+ning so bright, big Sun, And why is the garden so gay?