So I had my joy of life: I went the pace of the town; And then I took me a wife, And started to settle down.

I had gold enough and to spare For all of the simple joys That belong with a house and a home And a brood of girls and boys.

I married a girl with health And virtue and spotless fame.

I gave in exchange my wealth And a proud old family name.

And I gave her the love of a heart Grown sated and sick of sin!

My deal with the devil was all cleaned up, And the last bill handed in.

She was going to bring me a child, And when in labour she cried With love and fear I was wild - But now I wish she had died.

For the son she bore me was blind And crippled and weak and sore!

And his mother was left a wreck.

It was so she settled my score.

I said I must have my fling, And they knew the path I would go; Yet no one told me a thing Of what I needed to know.

Folks talk too much of a soul From heavenly joys debarred - And not enough of the babes unborn, By the sins of their fathers scarred.

DIVORCED

Thinking of one thing all day long, at night I fall asleep, brain weary and heart sore; But only for a little while. At three, Sometimes at two o'clock, I wake and lie, Staring out into darkness; while my thoughts Begin the weary treadmill-toil again, From that white marriage morning of our youth Down to this dreadful hour.

I see your face Lit with the lovelight of the honeymoon; I hear your voice, that lingered on my name As if it loved each letter; and I feel The clinging of your arms about my form, Your kisses on my cheek--and long to break The anguish of such memories with tears, But cannot weep; the fountain has run dry.

We were so young, so happy, and so full Of keen sweet joy of life. I had no wish Outside your pleasure; and you loved me so That when I sometimes felt a woman's need For more serene expression of man's love (The need to rest in calm affection's bay And not sail ever on the stormy main), Yet would I rouse myself to your desire; Meet ardent kiss with kisses just as warm; So nothing I could give should be denied.

And then our children came. Deep in my soul, From the first hour of conscious motherhood, I knew I should conserve myself for this Most holy office; knew G.o.d meant it so.

Yet even then, I held your wishes first; And by my double duties lost the bloom And freshness of my beauty; and beheld A look of disapproval in your eyes.

But with the coming of our precious child, The lover's smile, tinged with the father's pride, Returned again; and helped to make me strong; And life was very sweet for both of us.

Another, and another birth, and twice The little white hea.r.s.e paused beside our door And took away some portion of my youth With my sweet babies. At the first you seemed To suffer with me, standing very near; But when I wept too long, you turned away.

And I was hurt, not realising then My grief was selfish. I could see the change Which motherhood and sorrow made in me; And when I saw the change that came to you, Saw how your eyes looked past me when you talked, And when I missed the love tone from your voice, I did that foolish thing weak women do, Complained and cried, accused you of neglect, And made myself obnoxious in your sight.

And often, after you had left my side, Alone I stood before my mirror, mad With anger at my pallid cheeks, my dull Unlighted eyes, my shrunken mother-b.r.e.a.s.t.s, And wept, and wept, and faded more and more.

How could I hope to win back wandering love, And make new flames in dying embers leap, By such ungracious means?

And then She came, Firm-bosomed, round of cheek, with such young eyes, And all the ways of youth. I who had died A thousand deaths, in waiting the return Of that old love-look to your face once more, Died yet again and went straight into h.e.l.l When I beheld it come at her approach.

My G.o.d, my G.o.d, how have I borne it all!

Yet since she had the power to wake that look - The power to sweep the ashes from your heart Of burned-out love of me, and light new fires, One thing remained for me--to let you go.

I had no wish to keep the empty frame From which the priceless picture had been wrenched.

Nor do I blame you; it was not your fault: You gave me all that most men can give--love Of youth, of beauty, and of pa.s.sion; and I gave you full return; my womanhood Matched well your manhood. Yet had you grown ill, Or old, and unattractive from some cause (Less close than was my service unto you), I should have clung the tighter to you, dear; And loved you, loved you, loved you more and more.

I grow so weary thinking of these things; Day in, day out; and half the awful nights.

THE REVEALING ANGELS

Suddenly and without warning they came - The Revealing Angels came.

Suddenly and simultaneously, through city streets, Through quiet lanes and country roads they walked.

They walked crying: 'G.o.d has sent us to find The vilest sinners of earth.

We are to bring them before Him, before the Lord of Life.'

Their voices were like bugles; And then all war, all strife, And all the noises of the world grew still; And no one talked; And no one toiled, but many strove to flee away.

Robbers and thieves, and those sunk in drunkenness and crime, Men and women of evil repute, And mothers with fatherless children in their arms, all strove to hide.

But the Revealing Angels pa.s.sed them by, Saying: 'Not you, not you.

Another day, when we shall come again Unto the haunts of men, Then we will call your names; But G.o.d has asked us first to bring to him Those guilty of greater shames Than l.u.s.t, or theft, or drunkenness, or vice - Yea, greater than murder done in pa.s.sion, Or self-destruction done in dark despair.

Now in His Holy Name we call: Come one and all Come forth; reveal your faces.'

Then through the awful silence of the world, Where noise had ceased, they came - The sinful hosts.

They came from lowly and from lofty places, Some poorly clad, but many clothed like queens; They came from scenes of revel and from toil; From haunts of sin, from palaces, from homes, From boudoirs, and from churches.

They came like ghosts - THE VAST BRIGADES OF WOMEN WHO HAD SLAIN THEIR HELPLESS, UNBORN CHILDREN. With them trailed Lovers and husbands who had said, 'Do this,'

And those who helped for hire.

They stood before the Angels--before the Revealing Angels they stood.

And they heard the Angels say, And all the listening world heard the Angels say: 'These are the vilest sinners of all; For the Lord of Life made s.e.x that birth might come; Made s.e.x and its keen compelling desire To fashion bodies wherein souls might go From lower planes to higher, Until the end is reached (which is Beginning).

They have stolen the costly pleasures of the senses And refused to pay G.o.d's price.

They have come together, these men and these women, As male and female they have come together In the great creative act.

They have invited souls, and then flung them out into s.p.a.ce; They have made a jest of G.o.d's design.

All other sins look white beside this sinning; All other sins may be condoned, forgiven; All other sinners may be cleansed and shriven; Not these, not these.

Pa.s.s on, and meet G.o.d's eyes.'

The vast brigade moved forward, and behind then walked the Angels, Walked the sorrowful Revealing Angels.

THE WELL-BORN

So many people--people--in the world; So few great souls, love ordered, well begun, In answer to the fertile mother need!

So few who seem The image of the Maker's mortal dream; So many born of mere propinquity - Of l.u.s.tful habit, or of accident.

Their mothers felt No mighty, all-compelling wish to see Their bosoms garden-places Abloom with flower faces; No tidal wave swept o'er them with its flood; No thrill of flesh or heart; no leap of blood; No glowing fire, flaming to white desire For mating and for motherhood: Yet they bore children.

G.o.d! how mankind misuses Thy command, To populate the earth!

How low is brought high birth!

How low the woman; when, inert as sp.a.w.n Left on the sands to fertilise, She is the means through which the race goes on!

Not so the first intent.

Birth, as the Supreme Mind conceived it, meant The clear imperious call of mate to mate And the clear answer. Only thus and then Are fine, well-ordered, and potential lives Brought into being. Not by Church or State Can birth be made legitimate, Unless Love in its fulness bless.

Creation so ordains its lofty laws That man, while greater in all other things, Is lesser in the generative cause.

The father may be merely man, the male; Yet more than female must the mother be.

The woman who would fashion Souls, for the use of earth and angels meet, Must entertain a high and holy pa.s.sion.

Not rank, or wealth, or influence of kings Can give a soul its dower Of majesty and power, Unless the mother brings Great love to that great hour.

SISTERS OF MINE