Wherefore in dreams are sorrows borne anew, A healed wound opened, or the past revived?

Last night in my deep sleep I dreamed of you; Again the old love woke in me, and thrived On looks of fire, and kisses, and sweet words Like silver waters purling in a stream, Or like the amorous melodies of birds: A dream--a dream!

Again upon the glory of the scene There settled that dread shadow of the cross That, when hearts love too well, falls in between; That warns them of impending woe and loss.

Again I saw you drifting from my life, As barques are rudely parted in a stream; Again my heart was torn with awful strife: A dream--a dream!

Again the deep night settled on me there, Alone I groped, and heard strange waters roll, Lost in that blackness of supreme despair That comes but once to any living soul.

Alone, afraid, I called your name aloud-- Mine eyes, unveiled, beheld white stars agleam, And lo! awake, I cried, "Thank G.o.d, thank G.o.d!

A dream--a dream!"

[Ill.u.s.tration:]

DELILAH.

In the midnight of darkness and terror, When I would grope nearer to G.o.d, With my back to a record of error And the highway of sin I have trod, There come to me shapes I would banish-- The shapes of the deeds I have done; And I pray and I plead till they vanish-- All vanish and leave me, save one.

That one with a smile like the splendor Of the sun in the middle-day skies-- That one with a spell that is tender-- That one with a dream in her eyes-- Cometh close, in her rare Southern beauty, Her languor, her indolent grace; And my soul turns its back on its duty, To live in the light of her face.

She touches my cheek, and I quiver-- I tremble with exquisite pains; She sighs--like an overcharged river My blood rushes on through my veins', She smiles--and in mad-tiger fashion, As a she-tiger fondles her own, I clasp her with fierceness and pa.s.sion, And kiss her with shudder and groan.

Once more, in our love's sweet beginning, I put away G.o.d and the World; Once more, in the joys of our sinning, Are the hopes of eternity hurled.

There is nothing my soul lacks or misses As I clasp the dream shape to my breast; In the pa.s.sion and pain of her kisses Life blooms to its richest and best.

O ghost of dead sin unrelenting, Go back to the dust and the sod!

Too dear and too sweet for repenting, Ye stand between me and my G.o.d.

If I, by the Throne, should behold you, Smiling up with those eyes loved so well, Close, close in my arms I would fold you, And drop with you down to sweet h.e.l.l!

[Ill.u.s.tration: DELILAH]

LOVE SONG.

Once in the world's first prime, When nothing lived or stirred-- Nothing but new-born Time, Nor was there even a bird-- The Silence spoke to a Star; But I do not dare repeat What it said to its love afar, It was too sweet, too sweet.

But there, in the fair world's youth, Ere sorrow had drawn breath, When nothing was known but Truth, Nor was there even death, The Star to Silence was wed, And the Sun was priest that day, And they made their bridal-bed High in the Milky Way.

For the great white star had heard Her silent lover's speech; It needed no pa.s.sionate word To pledge them each to each.

Oh, lady fair and far, Hear, oh, hear and apply!

Thou, the beautiful Star-- The voiceless Silence, I.

[Ill.u.s.tration:]

TIME AND LOVE.

Time flies. The swift hours hurry by And speed us on to untried ways; New seasons ripen, perish, die, And yet love stays.

The old, old love--like sweet, at first, At last like bitter wine-- I know not if it blest or curst Thy life and mine.

Time flies. In vain our prayers, our tears!

We cannot tempt him to delays; Down to the past he bears the years, And yet love stays.

Through changing task and varying dream We hear the same refrain, As one can hear a plaintive theme Run through each strain.

Time flies. He steals our pulsing youth; He robs us of our care-free days; He takes away our trust and truth: And yet love stays.

O Time! take love! When love is vain, When all its best joys die-- When only its regrets remain-- Let love, too, fly.

[Ill.u.s.tration: TIME AND LOVE]

CHANGE.

Changed? Yes, I will confess it--I have changed.

I do not love in the old fond way.

I am your friend still--time has not estranged One kindly feeling of that vanished day.

But the bright glamour which made life a dream, The rapture of that time, its sweet content, Like visions of a sleeper's brain they seem-- And yet I cannot tell you how they went.

Why do you gaze with such accusing eyes Upon me, dear? Is it so very strange That hearts, like all things underneath G.o.d's skies Should sometimes feel the influence of change?

The birds, the flowers, the foliage of the trees, The stars which seem so fixed and so sublime, Vast continents and the eternal seas-- All these do change with ever-changing time.

The face our mirror shows us year on year Is not the same; our dearest aim or need, Our lightest thought or feeling, hope or fear, All, all the law of alteration heed.

How can we ask the human heart to stay Content with fancies of Youth's earliest hours?

The year outgrows the violets of May, Although, maybe, there are no fairer flowers.

And life may hold no sweeter love than this, Which lies so cold, so voiceless, and so dumb.

And shall I miss it, dear? Why, yes, we miss The violets always--till the roses come!

DESOLATION.

I think that the bitterest sorrow or pain Of love unrequited, or cold death's woe, Is sweet compared to that hour when we know That some grand pa.s.sion is on the wane;

When we see that the glory and glow and grace Which lent a splendor to night and day Are surely fading, and showing the gray And dull groundwork of the commonplace;

When fond expressions on dull ears fall, When the hands clasp calmly without one thrill, When we cannot muster by force of will The old emotions that came at call;

When the dream has vanished we fain would keep, When the heart, like a watch, runs out of gear, And all the savor goes out of the year, Oh, then is the time--if we can--to weep!