A Woman's Love Letters Part 4

Of its world of gladness all untold, Of its heart of green, and its mines of gold, And desires that leap and flee.

It moans to me, it moans to me!

The storm-stirred voice of the restive sea!

Of the vain dismay and the yearning pain For hopes that will never be born again From the womb of the wavering sea.

It calls to me, it calls to me, The luring voice of the rebel sea!

And I long with a love that is born of tears For the wild fresh life, and the glorying fears, For the quest and the mystery.

It wails to me, it wails to me, Of the deep dark graves in the yawning sea; And I hear the voice of a boy that is gone.

But the lad sleeps sound till the judgment-dawn In the heart of the wind-swept sea.

Incompleteness.

Since first I met thee, Dear, and long before I knew myself beloved, save by the sense All women have, a shadowy confidence Half-fear, that _feels_ its bliss nor asks for more, I have learned new desires, known Love's distress Sounded the deepest depths of loneliness.

I was a child at heart, and lived alone, Dreaming my dreams, as children may, at whiles, Between their hours of play, and Earth's broad smiles Allured my heart, and ocean's marvellous tone Woke no strange echoes, and the woods' complain Made chants sonorous, stirred no thoughts of pain.

And if, sometimes, dear Nature spoke to me In tones mysterious, I had learned so much Dwelling beside her daily, that her touch Made me discerning. Though I might not see Her purpose nor her meaning, I had part In the proud throbbing of that mighty heart.

But now the earth has put a tiring-cloth About her face; even in the mountains' cheer There is a lack, and in the sea a fear, The glad, rash sea, whose every mood, if wroth Or soothing mild, is dear to me as are Joy's new-born kisses on the lips of Care.

Since I have known thee, Dear, all life has grown An expectation. As the swelling grain Trembles to harvesting, and earth in pain Travails till Spring is born, so felt alone Is the dumb reaching out of things unborn, The night's gray promise of the amber morn.

I long to taste my pleasures through thy lips, To sail with thee o'er foaming waves and feel Our spirits rise together with the reel Of waters and the wavering land's eclipse; To see thy fair hair damp with salt sea-spray And in thine eyes the wildness of the way.

I long to share my woods with thee, to fly To some black-hearted forest where the trail Of mortals lingers not,--to hear the gale.

Sweep round us with a shuddering ecstasy, To feel, night's tumult pa.s.sed, the cool soft hand Of the untroubled dawn move o'er the land.

To swim with thee far out into the bay, A trembling glitter on the waves, the sh.o.r.e Glowing with noontide fervor, nevermore To fear the treacherous depths, though long the way.

Sweet beyond words the sighs that breathe and blow, The moist salt kisses, and the glad warm glow.

And when the unrest, the vague desires that rush Over our lives and may not be denied,-- Gone in the tasting,--lure us where the tide Of men sweeps on, let us forget the hush Together, and in city madness drain Our cup of pleasure to its dregs of pain.

Ever I need thee. Incomplete and poor This life of mine. Yet never dream my soul Craves the old peace. Till I may have the whole My joy is my abiding, and what more Of dreams and waking bliss the Fates allow Comes as a gift of Love's great overflow.

Song.

Deep in the green bracken lying, Close by the welcoming sea, Dream I, and let all my dreaming Drift as it will, Love, to thee.

Sated with splendid caresses Showered by the sun in his pride, Scorched by his pa.s.sionate kisses Languidly ebbs the tide.

Life's Joys.

I have been pondering what our teachers call The mystery of Pain; and lo! my thought After it's half-blind reaching out has caught This truth and held it fast. We may not fall Beyond our mounting; stung by life's annoy, Deeper we feel the mystery of Joy.

Sometimes they steal across us like a breath Of Eastern perfume in a darkened room, These joys of ours; we grope on through the gloom Seeking some common thing, and from its sheath Unloose, unknowing, some bewildering scent Of spice-thronged memories of the Orient.

Sometimes they dart across our turbid sky Like a quick flash after a heated day.

A moment, where the sombrous shadows lay We see a glory. Though it pa.s.sed us by No earthly power can filch that dazzling glow From memory's eye, that instant's s.h.i.+ne and show.

Life is so full of joys. The alluring sea, This morning clear and placid, may, ere night, Toss like a petulant child, and when the light Of a new morning dawns sweep grand and free A mighty power. If fierce, or mild, or bright, With every tide flows in a fresh delight.

I can remember well when first I knew The fragrance of white clover. There I lay On the warm July gra.s.s and heard the play Of sun-browned insects, and the breezes blew To my drowsed sense the scent the blossoms had; The subtle sweetness stayed, and I was glad.

Nor pa.s.sed the gladness. Though the years have gone (A many years, Beloved, since that day,) Whenever by the roadside or away In radiant summer fields, wandering alone Or with glad children, to my restless sight Shows that pale head, comes back the old delight.

Oh! the dark water, and the filling sail!

The scudding like a sea-mew, with the hand Firm on the tiller! See, the red-sh.o.r.ed land Receding, as we brave the hastening gale!

White gleam the wave-tops, and the breakers' roar Sounds thunderingly on the far distant sh.o.r.e.

This mad hair flying in the breeze blows wild Across my face. See, there, the gathering squall, That dark line to the eastward, watch it crawl Stealthily towards us o'er the snow-wreaths piled Close on each other! Ah! what joy to be Drunk with salt air, in battle with the sea!

So many joys, and yet I have but told Of simple things, the joys of air and sea!

Not all these things are worth one hour with thee, One moment, when thy daring arms enfold My body, and all other, meaner joys, Fade from me like a child's forgotten toys.

One thought is ever with me, glorying all Life's common aims. Surely will dawn a day Bright with an unknown rapture, when thy way Will be _my_ journey-road, and I can call These joys _our_ joys, for thou wilt walk with me Down budding pathways to the abounding sea.

Song.

Low laughed the Columbine, Trembled her petals fine As the breeze blew; In her dove-heart there stirred Murmurs the dull bee heard, And Love, Life's wild white bird, Straightway she knew.

Resting her lilac cheek Gently, in aspect meek, On the gray stone, The morning-glory, free, Welcomed the yellow bee, Heard the near-rolling sea Murmur and moan.

Calm lay the tawny sand Stretching a long wet hand To the far wave.

Swift to her warm waiting breast Longing to be possessed Leaps 'neath his billowy crest Her Lover brave.

Barter

There is a long thin line of fading gold In the far West, and the transfigured leaves On some slight, topmost bough that sways and heaves Hang limp and tremulous. Nor warm, nor cold The pungent air, and, 'neath the yellow haze, Show flushed and glad the wild, October ways.

There is a soft enchantment in the air, A mystery the Summer knows not, nor The st.u.r.dy, frost-crowned Winter. Nature wore Her blandest smile to-day, as here and there I wandered, elf-beset, through wood and field And gleaned the glories of the autumn yield.

A bunch of purple aster, golden-rod Darkened by the first frost, a drooping spray Of scarlet barberry, and tall and gray The silk-cored cotton with its bursting pod, Some tarnished maple-boughs, and, like a flash Of sudden flame, a branch of mountain ash.