V^-/.S 
 
 
 
 -.4 
 
 ^ 
 
 .#■ •'•■ 
 
 
 
 ^^ c^^ 
 
 
 
 
 
 "^y_. v-^' 
 
 ^^'n^''', — ~'''^- 
 
 
 ;%. 
 
 
 ->X-^\'^ 
 
 
 ,.0- s 
 
 
 
 
 
 , ^ "■ ^ 
 
 
 \'\-:^* '> 
 
 \./ 
 
 
 ow^ 
 
 > -■?- 
 
 A 
 
 \;-J^^^^ ^- ^;%;/: .^^ .V 
 
 <p. 
 
 .-^^^ 
 
 
 ^^a/ 
 
 ^°... 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 * \0- 
 
 ,/.' 
 
 <>', 
 
 ,0o^ 
 
 -\ 
 
 ,-N -7'. 
 
 ,-0' V 
 
 , V 1 
 
 ,\ 
 
 
 .^^co':'^./^/ 
 
 ,•0' 
 

 
 
 ^. ^^ 
 
 .0 
 
 .0 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 30 
 
 -I ■f' 
 
 ^^ V^ 
 
 .N 
 
 
 ^f % 
 
 A 
 
 ■ " '■ * 
 
 
 X^^^, 
 
 
 
 
 \0o„ 
 
 
 
 Ok 
 
 
 
 3 o 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 ^■a1^ 
 
 ^^<^. 
 
 . \ ' « * 
 
 
 
 o5 ■^ci- 
 
 xV./> 
 
 .A^ 
 
 . - - - -. ^ 
 
 
 
 .■\ 
 
 
.^^1 
 
 ''J 
 
MODE UN LOVE 
 
^d^^^^Wv 
 
 '?■.J:^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 mr\ 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 llBkft^E 
 
 ^ 
 
 .^\ 
 
 ■. ^'^/ 
 
 ^H 
 
 ■Mr 
 
 %^^ 
 
 * M 
 
 ^^^^^H| '. 
 
 ' -^ 
 
 f 
 
 ^^^Bl 
 
 X ^1 
 
 \M^jjh 
 
 ?!^ >^ 
 
 
 
 C<^rXi^^^y<JT[k 
 
MODERN 
 LOVE 
 
 GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 The Introduc/tion 
 by 
 
 Pochard Lc (jallicnnc 
 
 T\few York^ 
 MITCHELL KENNERLEY 
 1909 
 
The portrait by Joseph Simpson^ the introduction 
 by Richard Le Gallienne and the decorations 
 by Frederic W. Goudy are copyright i^og by 
 Mitchell Kennerley^ and must not be reproduced. 
 
 
 ©CLA 
 
 i K »> ,•■ o o 
 
 » <> •J 'J o o 
 
THE INTRODUCTION by 
 KICJ^ARD LE GALLIENNE 
 
EI(E is one of those poems 
 especially dear to the lover of 
 poetry^ which ^ in addition to 
 their intrinsic poetic appeal^ 
 bring him a romantic sense of 
 esoteric possession. Such a 
 poem once^— but alas/ no longer— was Fit z. Ger- 
 ald's ^^ubaiyat.' Twenty years ago it was a 
 hushed and perfumed secret of literature^ a hidden 
 honeycomb of fly met tus jealously shared among 
 a fortunate few. We made manuscript copies of 
 it at midnight for some dear friend^ or tried a 
 quatrain on a promising new acquaintance like a 
 password. The first edition of ' Modern Love ' 
 shared with the ^ I^ubaiyat ' a similar illicit devo- 
 tion; but^ whereas our Fitz. Gerald shrine has 
 long since been invaded by the Cook's tourist of 
 literature^ George Meredith's poem^ in spite of 
 much enthusiastic advertisings still remains invio- 
 late^ a garden enclosed^ a spring shut up^ a foun- 
 tain sealed. The close-woven thorn-hedge of its 
 style has proved^ and is likely to prove ^ too for- 
 
bidding a barrier for the multitude^ which casts a 
 curious glance on the minatory inscription over 
 its gate^ and passes on to some more accessible 
 pleasaunce. It has been wittily said of George 
 Meredith' s poetry ^ that the poet presents you with 
 admirable nuts, but has neglected to provide nut- 
 crackers. This omission y no doubt j accounts for 
 the fact that the man who loves to keep his poetry 
 to himself and a few friends may still enjoy his 
 ' Modern Love,"* with no fear of picnic parties. 
 
 This is not meat 
 For little people or for fools. 
 
 This famous warning against trespassers 
 (found only in the first edition of 1862) has a 
 naive, almost pathetic, look to-day j so accus- 
 tomed have we become to a noble, nude and an- 
 tique treatment of the passion of love, and the 
 tragic dilemmas of marriage in literature. Now- 
 adays, we rather expect our poets to drag their 
 nuptial couches into the street, than are shocked 
 at the hymeneal exposure; and the novelist is no 
 longer forbid to tell the secrets of his domestic 
 prisonhouse. In 1862^ however, public senti- 
 
ment had several severe and salutary shocks ahead 
 of it, Swinburne'' s ^ Poems and Ballads' had yet 
 to comey also I^ossetti's < The Mouse of Life. ' The 
 whole ^fleshly school' of poetry and paintingwas 
 just beginning its work. Nor had Wagner accli- 
 matized a Prince Consort England to ' Laus 
 Veneris,^ ^ Modern Love ^^ therefor e^ would come 
 to a scandalized 1862 with a factitious piqu- 
 ancy ^ as being the earliest matrimonial torture- 
 chamber thrown open to the public. One can im- 
 agine its gasp of bewildered prudery ., as 1862 
 opened the rather dry unpromising-looking volume 
 and fell upon the masterly first sonnet., in which at 
 once the scene and the theme of the poem are flashed 
 upon us by a few vivid strokes ^ as of lightning. 
 How audacious even still is the art that fears not 
 to paint so intimate a picture of a tragic human 
 situation., that in other hands could only have been 
 a vulgarly realistic ^ photographie d' alcove.' But 
 how the noble imagery.^ the elemental metaphoric 
 method y lift it far above any such comparison. 
 
 hike sculptured effigies they might be seen 
 Upon their marriage-tomb^ the sword between; 
 Each wishing for the sword that severs all. 
 
Am^ now fo-claj/, ar I hinted^ we are for- 
 tunate in being able to accept and enjoij the poem ^ 
 undisquieted bij anij noveltj/ in its philosophy ^ or 
 distracted bij ani/ sense of its s?nacking of propa- 
 ganda. Doubt/ess it grew out of a cruel and com- 
 plex matrimonial situation^ and Meredith^ doubt- 
 less^ wrote out of the bitter anguish and bewilder- 
 ment and ironij of his heart; ^bitter constraint 
 and sad occasion dear ' made this poem as the if 
 have made all the great and lovelij things of art j 
 but we no longer care what the particular matri- 
 monial situation was^ how far it was autobiogra- 
 phical^ nor indeed need we be curious to disen- 
 tangle the somewhat enigmatic drama of the poem. 
 All that matters to us is the beaut ij that has flow- 
 ered out of that stern soil of poignant circumstance; 
 the pattern^ the music .^ that a potent interpreta- 
 tive individuality was able to wring from the 
 tragic travail of his soul. One of Meredith^ s fav- 
 ourite tests of the poetic nature was — how far it 
 is able to take the rock and rubble^ the pain and 
 harshness and bitterness of things^ and make them 
 sing. No poet has had a firmer^ deeper faith in, so 
 
to say^ the philosophical signijicance and value of 
 beautif as a product. His faith in life^ in nature 
 — ' our only visible friend ' — is founded mainly 
 on nature's inexhaustible capacity for transmut- 
 ing ^ancient wrath and ivrecl^' into ever new forms 
 of vital joy and victorious being. His philosophy 
 seems to have been — that so long as a situation^ 
 however ^ tragic ^^ can be made to ^ sing^' we need 
 not despair of life. This is the teaching of all his 
 writings particularly of his austerely sweet nature 
 poetry J and here in ^Modern Love^' thus early 
 in his life and in the vigorous young manhood of 
 his powers^ we find him applying it to perhaps 
 the most agonizing of human dilemmas. 
 
 These two were rapid falcons in a snare., 
 
 Condemn d to do the flitting of the bat. 
 
 Lovers beneath the singing sky of May^ 
 
 They wander d once; clear as the dew on flowers: 
 
 Then each applied to each that fatal knife. 
 
 Deep questioning, which probes to endless dole. 
 
 Ah, what a dusty answer gets the soul 
 
 When hot for certainties in this our life I 
 
 Exactly what these ^ tragic hints ' hint at 
 may sometimes seem a little darf^, Meredith is 
 almost tiresomely sibylline^ and somewhat over- 
 
does the pari of psychologic mystery -man. If 
 only he would consent sometimes to be a little more 
 clear ^ one feels that he would gain even in pro- 
 fundity. For^ after ally one thing in life is very 
 little more mysterious than another j and no ill- 
 mated marriage y however complex ^ is so beyond 
 the disentangling skill and suggestion of words 
 that we need make Egyptian darkness of it— of the 
 simple facts y I mean^ that give rise to the psy- 
 chologic situation which is the poem's reason for 
 existence. 
 
 ' liapid falcons in a snare . . . ' — the im- 
 agery is picturesque y but with two such souls as 
 we have tragic glimpses of in other moments and 
 attitudes y are we to think of a mistaken marriage 
 as a ' snare ' that could so tragically lime and en- 
 tangle them ? Strong souls have always made 
 short work of such snares. So^ it would hardly 
 seem that ' Modern Love ' // really motived by 
 that protest against the convention of marriage 
 which is the theme of Meredith's later novels. 
 The sorrow is deeper than that. It is the sorrow 
 of a more ideal experiment^ the sorrow of the 
 
almost impossibility of a perfect union between 
 man and woman ^ with the best will in the world 
 on both sides, ^Modern' Love! In a way^ the title 
 jars^ as being a little cheapo merely contemporary ^ 
 journalistic, Yet^ probably, Meredith meant it to 
 stand for a sensitive evolution of the passion of 
 love, which perhaps has only emerged with the 
 /teener mysteries of modern science; a love which 
 lays stress on the physical sacrament, more and 
 more for mysterious spiritual reasons. Pagan love 
 laid stress on that, and proprietorial love is its 
 outcome, the love of jealous ownership and mur- 
 der; mediaeval love, on the other hand, laid stress 
 on the purely spiritual relation, endeavouring to 
 divorce the body and the soul of passion, and re- 
 tain only the soul. Modern love, however, is jeal- 
 ous of the body because the so-called materialistic 
 sciences have taught it that body and soul are 
 mysteriously, and sacredly, one, I must be ^faith- 
 ful' to you, you must be faithful to me— not on 
 the constraint of any external contract, but because 
 of the chemical adherence and fidelity of the very 
 particles of our flesh, harmoniously destined for 
 
magic union one with the other. O if that should 
 fail and if some defect of nature go astray/ Then 
 is our tragedy — then we write ^Modern Love'j 
 and having dreamed greatly of a love that believes 
 not only in the immortality of the souly but in the 
 immortality of matter^ we 
 
 Cannot be at -peace 
 In having Love upon a mortal lease, 
 
 — cannot consent to ' eat our pot of honey on the 
 grave, "* 
 
 ^Modern Love ' // the tragedy^ in terms of 
 ^ human love^ of an idealism which Walter Pater 
 has also symbolized in the story of ^ Sebastian Van 
 Storcky the tragedy of a temperament haunted by 
 the Infinite and the Perfect ^ and rendered melan- 
 choly by its ^fastidious refusal to be or to do any 
 limited thing' j a temperament which cannot accept 
 the apparent conditions of Nature— 
 
 Whose hands bear^ here, a seed-bag ; tbere, an urn. 
 
 — and play the game of life and love on her terms 
 of ' seasons— not eternities. ' Our ' human rose ' is 
 too mysteriously fair. Our human joy seems to 
 carry with it too hallowed a sense of immortality . 
 
// // a noble spiritual agoni/^ the last ordeal 
 of that finely tempered clay that will not accept / 
 the senses^ except on the terms of the spirit* the last 
 hitter cupy may be ^ of initiation of the dreamingin- 
 domitable soul^ still faithful to its mystic vision 
 of permanent reality ^ unseduced by pleasure and 
 undismayed even by the face of death. 
 
 So J it seems to one^ ^Modern Love^ inter- 
 prets itself with grander ^ more cosmic ^ meanings ^ 
 as it more surely ascends to its place among the 
 austere fixed stars of English poetry y and as we 
 bring it to hearts and minds less occupied with the 
 mere bloom and song of things y and sadly set to 
 hear more of the strange secret of that bloom and 
 song. The vivid human tableauXy the painfully 
 ironic pictures of the mere human dilemma y are as 
 vivid as everj the mortal story y so dramatically 
 flashed in tragic hints y grips and agoniz.es us at 
 first reading; but the more we read the poem the 
 more we value it for the iron song that sweeps 
 through ity the austere music as of the wind among 
 pines on a starry nighty and for its noble beauty 
 as of tragic bronze. 
 
MODERN LOVE 
 
/ 
 
 BY this he knew she wept with waking eyes : 
 That^ at his hand's light quiver by her head^ 
 The strange low sobs that shook their common bed 
 Were called into her with a sharp surprise^ 
 And strangled mute ^ like little gaping snakes^ 
 Dreadfully venomous to him. She lay 
 Stone- stilly and the long darkness flowed away 
 With muffled pulses . Then^ as midnight makes 
 Her giant heart of Memory and Tears 
 Drink the pale drug of silence^ and so beat 
 Sleep's heavy measure^ they from head to feet 
 Were moveless^ looking thro' their dead black years 
 By vain regret scrawled over the blank wall. 
 Like sculptured effigies they might be seen 
 Upon their marriage-tomb^ the sword between; 
 Each wishing for the sword that severs alL 
 
// 
 
 // ended^ and the morrow brought the task. 
 Her eyes were guilty gates ^ that let him in 
 By shutting all too Z£alousfor their sin : 
 Each sucked a secret^ and each wore a mask. 
 But^ ohy the Utter taste her beauty had! 
 J^e sickened as at breath oj poison-flowers : 
 A languid humour stole among the hours ^ 
 And if their smiles encountered^ he went mad^ 
 And raged deep inward^ till the light was brown 
 Before his vision^ and the world forgot^ 
 Looked wicked as some old dull murder-spot. 
 A star with lurid beams .^ she seemed to crown 
 The pit of infamy : and then again 
 He fainted on his vengefulness^ and strove 
 To ape the magnanimity of love ^ 
 And smote himself^ a shuddering heap of pain. 
 
/// 
 
 77?// LVas the woman; what now of the man ? 
 
 But pass him. If he comes beneath a heel^ 
 
 He shall be crushed until he cannot feel ^ 
 
 Or^ being callous^ haply till he can. 
 
 But he is nothing:— nothing"^ Only mark 
 
 The rich light striking out from her on him I 
 
 Ha ! what a sense it is when her eyes swim 
 
 Across the man she singles., leaving dark 
 
 All else/ Lord God., who mad' st the thing so fair., 
 
 See that I am drawn to her even now ! 
 
 It cannot be such harm on her cool brow 
 
 To put a kiss ? Yet if I meet him there ! 
 
 But she is mine! Ah., no! I know too well 
 
 I claim a star whose light is overcast : 
 
 I claim a phantom-woman in the Past. 
 
 The hour has struck., though I heard not the bell ! 
 
IV 
 
 All other joys of life he strove to warm^ 
 And magnify^ and catch them to his lip : 
 But they had suffered shipwreck with the shipy 
 And gazed upon him sallow from the storm. 
 Or if Delusion came^ V was hut to show 
 The coming minute mock the one that went. 
 Cold as a mountain in its star-pitched tent^ 
 Stood high Philosophy y less friend than foe : 
 Whom self -caged Passion^ from its prison-bar s^ 
 Is always watching with a wondering hate. 
 Not till the fire is dying in the grate ^ 
 Look we for any kinship with the stars, 
 Ohy wisdom never comes when it is gold ^ 
 And the great price we pay for it full worth : 
 We have it only when we are half earth. 
 Little avails that coinage to the old! 
 
V 
 
 A merf age from her set hts brain aflame, 
 A world of household matters filled her mindy 
 Wherein he saw hypocrisy designed: 
 She treated him as something that is tame^ 
 And but at other provocation bites. 
 Familiar was her shoulder in the glass ^ 
 Through that dark rain : yet it may come to pass 
 That a changed eye finds such familiar sights 
 More keenly tempting than new loveliness. 
 The ^ What has been ' a moment seemed his own : 
 The splendours y mysteries^ dearer because known,, 
 Nor less divine : Love's inmost sacredness^ 
 Called to him^ ' Come/ ^—In his restraining starts 
 Eyes nurtured to be looked at^ scarce could see 
 A wave of the great waves of Destiny 
 Convulsed at a checked impulse of the heart. 
 
VI 
 
 It chanced his lips did meet her forehead cool. 
 She had no blush ^ but slanted down her eye. 
 Shamed nature^ then^ confesses love can die: 
 And most she punishes the tender fool 
 Who will believe what honours her the most! 
 Dead! is it dead? She has a pulse ^ and flow 
 Of tears ^ the price of blood-drops., as I know ^ 
 For whom the midnight sobs around Love's ghost ^ 
 Since then I heard her ^ and so will sob on. 
 The love is here; it has but changed its aim. 
 O bitter barren woman ! whafs the name ? 
 The name^ the name., the new name thou hast won ? 
 Behold me striking the world's coward stroke! 
 That will I not do^ though the sting is dire. 
 —Beneath the surface this^ while by the fire 
 They sat., she laughing at a quiet joke. 
 
VII 
 
 she issues radiant from her dressing-room^ 
 Like one prepared to scale an upper sphere : 
 —By stirring up a lower ^ much I fear ! 
 How deftly that oiled barber lays his bloom ! 
 That long-shanked dapper Cupid with frisked curls 
 Can make known women tor turingly fair; 
 The gold-eyed serpent dwelling in rich hair^ 
 Awakes beneath his magic whisks and twirls, 
 /lis art can take the eyes from out my heady 
 Until I see with eyes of other men; 
 While deeper knowledge crouches in its den ^ 
 And sends a spark up: — /*/ // true we're wed? 
 Yea I filthiness of body is most vile^ 
 But faithlessness of heart I do hold worse. 
 The former y it were not so great a curse 
 To read on the steel-mirror of her smile. 
 
VIII 
 
 Yet it was plain she struggled^ and that salt 
 Oj righteous feeling made her pitiful. 
 Poor twisting ivorm^ so queenly beautiful/ 
 Where came the cleft between us ? whose the fault? 
 Ml/ tears are on thee, that have rarely dropped 
 As balm for any bitter wound of mine : 
 My breast will open for thee at a sign I 
 But no : we are two reed-pipes^ coarsely stopped: 
 The God once filled them with his mellow breath ; 
 And they were music till he flung them doivn^ 
 Used! used! Hear now the discord- loving clown 
 Puff his gross spirit in them^ worse than death! 
 I do not know myself without thee more : 
 In this unholy battle I grow base : 
 If the same soul be under the same face ^ 
 Speak ^ and a taste of that old time restore! 
 
IX 
 
 Me felt the wild beast in him between whiles 
 So masterfulli/ rude, that he would grieve 
 To see the helpless delicate thing receive 
 /lis guardianship through certain dark defiles. 
 Had he not teeth to rend^ and hunger too ? 
 But still he spared her , Once: ^ Have i/ou no fear ?"* 
 He said : ^t was dusk j she in his grasp j none near. 
 She laughed: 'Noj surely ^ am I not with you^ ' 
 And uttering that soft starry 'you^' she leaned 
 Mer gentle body near him^ looking up; 
 And from her eyes^ as from a poison-cup^ 
 He drank until the flittering eyelids screened. 
 Devilish malignant witch ! and oh^ young beam 
 Of heaven's circle-glory ! Here thy shape 
 To scjueeze like an intoxicating grape— - 
 I mighty and yet thou goest safe^ supreme. 
 
But where began the change j and what's my crime? 
 The wretch condemned^ who has not been arraigned 
 Chafes at his sentence. Shall /, unsustained^ 
 Drag on Love's nerveless body thro' all time ? 
 I must have slept ^ since now I wake. Prepare^ 
 You lovers^ to know Love a thing of moods : 
 Not like hard life^ of laws. In Love's deep woods ^ 
 I dreamt of loyal Life :—the offence is there / 
 Love' s jealous woods about the sun are cur led ^ 
 At least., the sun far brighter there did beam. — 
 My crime is., that the puppet of a dream., 
 I plotted to be worthy of the world. 
 Oh^ had I with my darling helped to mince 
 The facts of life., you still had seen me go 
 With hindward feather and with forward toe.. 
 Her much-adored delightful Fairy Prince! 
 
Out in the yellow meadows^ where the bee 
 Hums by us with the honey of the Springs 
 And showers of sweet notes from the larks on wingy 
 Are dropping like a noon-dew ^ wander we. 
 Or is it now ? or was it then ? for now^ 
 As then ythe larks from running rings pour showers : 
 The golden foot of May is on the flowers ^ 
 And friendly shadows dance upon her brow. 
 What's thisy when Nature swears there is no change 
 To challenge eyesight? Now, as then, the grace 
 Of heaven seems holding earth in its embrace. 
 Nor eyes, nor heart, has she to feel it strange ? 
 Look, woman, in the West. There wilt thou see 
 An amber cradle near the suns decline : 
 Within it, featured even in death divine. 
 Is lying a dead infant, slain by thee. 
 
xri 
 
 Not solely that the Future she destroys^ 
 And the fair life which in the distance lies 
 For all meny beckoning out from dim rich skies : 
 Nor that the passing hours supporting joys 
 Have lost the keen-edged flavour ^ which begat 
 Distinction in old times ^ and still should breed 
 Sweet Memory y and Hope y— earth'' s modest seed ^ 
 And heaven's high prompting: not that the world 
 
 is flat 
 Since that soft-luring creature I embraced^ 
 Among the children of Illusion went: 
 Me thinks with all this loss I were content ^ 
 If the mad Past^ on which my foot is based ^ 
 Were firm y or might be blotted: but the whole 
 Of life is mixed: the mocking Past will stay : 
 And if I drink oblivion of a day^ 
 So shorten I the stature of my souL 
 
XIII 
 
 ^ I play for Seasons; not Eternities/' 
 Says Nature^ laughing on her way. ' So must 
 All those whose stake is nothing more than dust/ ' 
 And lo^ she wins^ and oj her harmonies 
 She is full sure/ Upon her dying rose^ 
 She drops a look of fondness^ and goes by^ 
 Scarce any retrospection in her eye; 
 For she the laws of growth most deeply knows ^ 
 Whose hands bear ^here^a seed-bag— there ^ an urn. 
 Pledged she herself to aught., 7 would mark her end/ 
 This lesson of our only visible friend^ 
 Can we not teach our foolish hearts to learn ? 
 Yes / yes / —buty ohy our human rose is fair 
 Surpassingly / Lose calmly Love's great bliss., 
 When the renewed for ever of a kiss 
 Whirls life within the shower of loosened hair / 
 
XIV 
 
 What soul would bargain for a cure that brings 
 
 Contempt the nobler agony to kill? 
 
 leather let me bear on the bitter ill^ 
 
 And strike this rusty bosom with new stings f 
 
 It seems there is another veering fit^ 
 
 Since on a gold-haired lady^s eyeballs pure ^ 
 
 I looked with little prospect of a cure^ 
 
 The while her mouth's red bow loosed shafts of wit. 
 
 Just heaven ! can it be true that jealousy 
 
 /las decked the woman thus? and does her head 
 
 Swim somewhat for possessions forfeited ? 
 
 Madam ^ you teach me many things that be, 
 
 I open an old book^ and there Ijind^ 
 
 That ' Women still may love whom they deceive, "" 
 
 Such love I prize not^ madam : by your leave , 
 
 The game you play at is not to my mind. 
 
I think she sleeps : it must be sleeps when low 
 Hangs that abandoned arm toward the floor ; 
 The face turned with it. Now make fast the door. 
 Sleep on : it is your husband., not your foe. 
 The Poefs black stage- lion of wronged love., 
 Frights not our modern dames :— well if he did! 
 Now will I pour new light upon that lid^ 
 Full-sloping like the breasts beneath. ^ Sweet dove., 
 Your sleep is pure. Nay., pardon: I disturb, 
 I do not? good! ' Her waking infant- stare 
 Grows woman to the burden my hands bear : 
 Her own handwriting to me when no curb 
 Was leftonPas sion^ s tongue. She trembles through; 
 A woman s tremble— the whole instrument : — 
 I show another letter lately sent. 
 The words are very like : the name is new. 
 
XVI 
 
 In our old shipwrecked days there was an hour^ 
 When in the firelight steadily aglow^ 
 Joined slackly^ we beheld the red chasm grow 
 Among the clicking coals. Our library -bower 
 That eve was left to us : and hushed we sat 
 As lovers to whom Time is whispering. 
 From sudden-opened doors we heard them sing : 
 The nodding elders mixed good wine with chat. 
 Well knew we that Life'' s greatest treasure lay 
 With usy and of it was our talk. ^ Ah, yes/ 
 Love dies I ' I said: I never thought it less. 
 She yearned to me that sentence to unsay. 
 Then when the fire domed blackening, I found 
 filer cheek was salt against my kiss, and swift 
 Up the sharp scale of sobs her breast did lift:— 
 Now am I haunted by that taste! that sound/ 
 
XVII 
 
 At dinner^ she is hostess^ lam host. 
 Went the feast ever cheerful ler ? She keeps 
 The Topic over intellectual deeps 
 In buoyancy afloat. They see no ghost. 
 With sparkling surface-eyes we ply the hall: 
 It is in truth a most contagious game : 
 ^Hiding the skeleton^ shall be its name. 
 Such play as this^ the devils might appall 
 But here's the greater wonder j in that we 
 Enamoured of an acting naught can tire^ 
 Each other ^ like true hypocrites^ admire ^ 
 Warm-lighted looks ^ Love's ephemerioe^ 
 Shoot gaily o'er the dishes and the wine. 
 We waken envy of our happy lot. 
 Fasty sweety and golden^ shows the marriage-knot. 
 Dear guests^ you now have seen Love's corpse-light 
 shine. 
 
XVIII 
 
 /lerejack and Tom are paired with Moll and Meg. 
 Curved open to the river-reach is seen 
 A country merry-making on the green. 
 Fair space for signal shakings of the leg. 
 That little screwy fiddler from his booths 
 Whence flows one nut-brown stream^ commands 
 
 the joints 
 Of all who caper here at various points, 
 I have known rustic revels in my youth : 
 The May -fly pleasures of a mind at ease. 
 A n early goddess was a country lass : 
 A charmed Amphion-oak she tripped the grass. 
 What life was that Hived? The life of these ? 
 Heaven keep them happy I Nature they seem near. 
 They must^ I think ^ be wiser than I am; 
 They have the secret of the bull and lamb. 
 ' 77/ true that when we trace its source^ 'tis beer. 
 
XIX 
 
 No state is enviable. To the luck alone 
 
 Of some few favoured men I would put claim. 
 
 I bleedy hut her who wounds I will not blame. 
 
 Have I not felt her heart as 7 were my own 
 
 Beat thro"" me? could I hurt her? heaven and hell! 
 
 But I could hurt her cruelly ! Can I let 
 
 My Love's old time- piece to another set^ 
 
 Swear it can't stop^ and must for ever swell? 
 
 Sure^ thafs one way Love drifts into the mart 
 
 Where goat-legged buyers throng. I see not plain : 
 
 My meaning is., it must not be again. 
 
 Great God! the maddest gambler throws his heart. 
 
 If any state be enviable on earthy 
 
 ' Tis yon born idiofs^ who, as days go by, 
 
 Still rubs his hands before him, like a fly. 
 
 In a queer sort of meditative mirth. 
 
I am not of those miserable males 
 Who sniff at vice^ and^ daring not to snap^ 
 Do therefore hope for heaven. I take the hap 
 Of all mi/ deeds. The wind that fills my sails ^ 
 Propels; but I am helmsman. Am I wrecked^ 
 I l<now the devil has sufficient weight 
 To bear : I lay it not on him^ or fate. 
 Besides., he's damned. That man I do suspect 
 A coward^ who would burden the poor deuce 
 With what ensues from his own s Upper iness, 
 I have just found a wanton-scented tress 
 In an old desl<^ dusty for lack of use. 
 Of days and nights it is demonstrative^ 
 Thaty like some aged s tar ^ gleam luridly. 
 If for those times I must ask charity ^ 
 Have I not any charity to give ? 
 
XXI 
 
 We three are on the cedar-shadowed lawn; 
 My friend being third. He who at love once laughed 
 Is in the weak rib by a fatal shaft 
 Struck thro\ and tells his passion's bashful dawn 
 And radiant culmination^ glorious crown ^ 
 When 'this' she said: went 'thus'.-most wondrous she/ 
 Our eyes grow white ^ encountering: that we are three ^ 
 Forgetful; then together we look down. 
 But he demands our blessing; is convinced 
 That words of wedded lovers must bring good. 
 We question; if we dare! or if we should! 
 A ndpat him with light laugh. We have not winced. 
 Next J she has fallen. Fainting points the sign 
 To happy things in wedlock. When she wakes y 
 She looks the star that thro' the cedar shakes : 
 Her lost moist hand clings mortally to mine. 
 
XXII 
 
 What may the woman labour to confess ? 
 There is about her mouth a nervous twitch. 
 'Tis something to be told^ or hidden .-—which ? 
 I get a glimpse of hell in this mild guess. 
 She has desires of touchy as if to feel 
 That all the household things are things she l^new. 
 She stops before the glass. What sight in view ? 
 A face that seems the latest to reveal/ 
 For she turns from it hastily.^ and tossed 
 Irresolute^ steals shadow-like to where 
 I stand; and wavering pale before me there ^ 
 Her tears fall still as oak- leaves after frost. 
 She will not speak. I will not ask. We are 
 League- sundered bi/ the silent gulf between. 
 You bur It/ lovers on the village green ^ 
 Yours is a lower j and a happier star ! 
 
XXIII 
 ^Tis Christmas weather ^ and a country house 
 J^eceives us : rooms are full: we can but get 
 An attic-crib. Such lovers will not fret 
 At that^ it is half- said. The great carouse 
 Knocks hard upon the midnight's hollow door^ 
 But when I knock at her s^ I see the pit. 
 Whi/ did I come here in that dullard fit ^ 
 I enter ^ and lie couched upon the floor. 
 Passings I caught the cover lefs quick beat: — 
 Come^ Shame^ burn to my soul! and Pride^ and 
 
 Pain- 
 Foul demons that have tortured me^ enchain ! 
 Out in the freezing darkness the lambs bleat. 
 The small bird stiffens in the low starlight. 
 I know not ho w^ but shuddering as I slept ^ 
 I dreamed a banished angel to me crept : 
 My feet were nourished on her breasts all night. 
 
XXIV 
 
 The miserly is greater ^ as I live/ 
 To know her flesh so pure ^ so keen her sense ^ 
 That she does penance now for no offence^ 
 Save against Love, The less can I forgive! 
 The less can I forgive^ though I adore 
 That cruel lovely pallor which surrounds 
 fier footsteps ; and the low vibrating sounds 
 That come on me^ as from a magic shore. 
 Low are they^ but most subtle to find out 
 The shrinking soul. Madam., 7 // understood 
 When women play upon their womanhood; 
 It means .^ a Season gone. And yet I doubt 
 But I am duped. That nun- like look waylays 
 Aly fancy. Oh ! I do but wait a sign I 
 Pluck out the eyes of pride! thy mouth to mine! 
 Never! though I die thirsting. Go thy ways! 
 
JCJCV 
 
 You like not that French novels Tell me why. 
 You think it quite unnatural. Let us see. 
 The actors are^ it seems ^ the usual three : 
 Husband^ and wife^ and lover. She— hut fie ! 
 In England we'll not hear oj it. Edmond^ 
 The lover ^ her devout chagrin doth share; 
 Blanc-mange and absinthe are his penitent fare ^ 
 Till his pale aspect makes her over-fond: 
 So^ to preclude fresh sin^ he tries rosbif. 
 Meantime the husband is no more abused: 
 Auguste forgives her ere the tear is used. 
 Then hangeth all on one tremendous IF: — 
 If she will choose between them. She does choose; 
 And takes her husband^ like a proper wife. 
 Unnatural! My dear^ these things are life : 
 And life ^ some think ^ is worthy of the Muse. 
 
JCJCV/ 
 
 Love ere he bleeds^ an eagle in high skies ^ 
 
 /ias earth beneath his wings : from reddened eve 
 
 He views the rosy dawn. In vain they weave 
 
 The fatal web below while far he flies. 
 
 But when the arrow strikes him^ there's a change. 
 
 fie moves but in the track of his spent pain ^ 
 
 Whose red drops are the links of a harsh chain ^ 
 Binding him to the ground^ with narrow range. 
 A subtle serpent then has Love become. 
 I had the eagle in my bosom erst: 
 Henceforward with the serpent I am cursed. 
 I can interpret where the mouth is dumb. 
 Speak^ and I see the side-lie of a truth. 
 Perchance my heart may pardon you this deed : 
 But be no coward: — you that made Love bleed ^ 
 
 You must bear all the venom of his tooth! 
 
XXVII 
 
 Distraction if the panacea^ Sir/ 
 
 I hear my oracle oj Medicine say. 
 
 Doctor ! that same specific yesterday 
 
 I tried J and the result will not deter 
 
 A second trial. Is the devil's line 
 
 Of golden hairy or raven blacky composed ? 
 
 And does a cheeky like any sea-shell rosed ^ 
 
 Or clear as widowed sky^ seem most divine? 
 
 No matter y so I taste forge tfulness. 
 
 And if the devil snare me^ body and mind^ 
 
 Here gratefully I score:— he seemed kind^ 
 
 When not a soul would comfort my distress ! 
 
 O sweet new world., in which I rise new made ! 
 
 O Lady., once I gave love : now I take! 
 
 Lady., I must be flattered. Shouldst thou wake 
 
 The passion of a demon .,be not afraid. 
 
XXVIII 
 
 I must he flattered. The imperious 
 Desire speaks out. Lady^ I am content 
 To play with you the game of Sentiment^ 
 A nd with you enter on paths perilous; . 
 But if across your beauty I throw light^ 
 To make it threefold^ it must be all mine. 
 First secret; then avowed. For I must shine 
 Envied^— I ^ lessened in my proper sight/ 
 Be watchful of your beauty^ Lady dear ! 
 How much hangs on that lamp you cannot tell. 
 Most earnestly I pray you ^ tend it well: 
 And men shall see me as a burning sphere; 
 And men shall mark you eyeing me^ and groan 
 To be the God of such a grand sunflower ! 
 I feel the promptings of Satanic power ^ 
 While you do homage unto me alone. 
 
JCJC/JC 
 
 Am /failing ? For no longer can least 
 A glory round about this head oj gold. 
 Glory she wears y but springing from the moulds- 
 No t like the consecration of the Past! 
 Is my soul beggared? Something more than earth 
 I cry for still : I cannot be at peace 
 In having Love upon a mortal lease, 
 I cannot take the woman at her worth ! 
 Where is the ancient wealth wherewith I clothed 
 Our human nakedness ^ and could endow 
 With spiritual splendour a white brow 
 That else had grinned at me the fact I loathed ? 
 A kiss is but a kiss now I and no wave 
 Of a great flood that whirls me to the sea, 
 Buty as you will! we"" II sit contentedly ^ 
 And eat our pot of honey on the grave. 
 
JCJCJC 
 
 What are we first ^ First ^ animals; and next 
 Intelligences at a leap; on whom 
 Pale lies the distant shadow of the tomby 
 And all that draweth on the tomb for text. 
 Into which state comes Love^ the crowning sun : 
 Beneath whose light the shadow loses form. 
 We are the lords of life^ and life is warm. 
 Intelligence and instinct now are one. 
 But Nature says : ^My children most they seem 
 When they least know me : therefore I decree 
 That they shall suffer .' Swift doth young Loveflee^ 
 And we stand waJ^ened^ shiveringfrom our dream . 
 I'fjen if we study Nature we are wise. 
 Thus do the few who live but with the day : 
 The scientific animals are they.— 
 Lady^ this is my sonnet to your eyes. 
 
JCJCJC/ 
 
 This go/den head has wit in it. I live 
 Again ^ and afar higher iife^ near her. 
 Some women like a young philosopher ; 
 Perchance because he is diminutive. 
 For woman^s manly god must not exceed 
 Proportions of the natural nursing siz£. 
 Great poets and great sages draw no priz£ 
 With women : but the little lap-dog breed^ 
 Who can be hugged^ or on a mantel-piece 
 Perched up for adoration^ these obtain 
 Her homage. And of this we men are vain ? 
 Of this/ ^Tis ordered for the world's increase/ 
 Small flattery / Yet she has that rare gift 
 To beauty y Common Sense. I am approved. 
 It is not half so nice as being loved ^ 
 A ndyet I do prefer it. What's my drift ? 
 
XXXII 
 
 Full faith I have she holds that rarest gift 
 To beauty^ Common Sense. To see her lie 
 With her fair visage an inverted sky 
 Bloom-covered^ while the under lids uplift^ 
 Would almost wrecl< the faith; but when her mouth 
 ( Can it kiss sweetly ? sweetly A would address 
 The inner me that thirsts for her no less^ 
 And has so long been languishing in drouth^ 
 I feel that I am matched; that I am man I 
 One restless corner of my heart or heady 
 That holds a dying something never dead^ 
 Still frets y though Nature giveth all she can. 
 It means y that woman is not^ I opine ^ 
 Her sexs antidote. Who seel^s the asp 
 For serpen fs bites? ' T would calm me could I clasp 
 Shrieking Bacchantes with their souls of wine I 
 
XXX III 
 
 ^In Partly at the Louvre ^ there have I seen 
 The sumptuous ly -feathered angel pierce 
 Prone Lucifer y descending. Looked he fierce ^ 
 Showing the fight a fair one ? Too serene/ 
 The young Phar saltans did not disarray 
 Less willingly their locks of floating silk : 
 That suckling mouth of his ^ upon the milk 
 
 Of heaven might still be feasting through the fray. 
 
 Oh, I(aphael! when men the Fiend do fight , 
 They conquer not upon such easy terms. 
 Half serpent in the struggle grow these worms. 
 And does he grow half human , all is right. ^ 
 This to my Lady in a distant spot., 
 
 Upon the theme : ' While mind is mastering clay.. 
 
 Gross clay invades it.^ If the spy you play ., 
 My wife., read this! Strange love talk., is it not? 
 
JCJCJC/V 
 
 Madam would speak with me. So^ now it comes: 
 The Deluge or else Fire I She's well; she thanks 
 Ml/ husbandship. Our chain on silence clanks. 
 Time leers between^ above his twiddling thumbs. 
 Am I quite well ? Most excellent in health! 
 The Journals^ too^ I diligently peruse. 
 Vesuvius is expected to give news : 
 Niagara is no noisier. By stealth 
 Our eyes dart scrutinizing snakes. She's glad 
 Tm happy ^ says her quivering under-lip. 
 ^And are not you ? ' ^How can I be? ' ' Take ship ! 
 For happiness is somewhere to be had. ' 
 ^Nowhere for me! ' Her voice is barely heard. 
 I am not melted^ and make no pretence. 
 With commonplace I freeze her^ tongue and sense. 
 Niagara or Vesuvius is deferred. 
 
JCJCJCV 
 
 It is no vulgar nature I have wived. 
 Secretive^ sensitive^ she takes a wound 
 Deep to her soul^ as if the sense had swooned^ 
 And not a thought of vengeance had survived. 
 No confidences has she : but relief 
 Must come to one whose suffering is acute. 
 O have a care of natures that are mute! 
 They punish you in acts : their steps are brief. 
 What is she doing ? What does she demand 
 From Providence or me ? She is not one 
 Long to endure this torpidly^ and shun 
 The drugs thaf crowd about a woman's hand. 
 At Forfeits during snow we played^ and I 
 Must kiss her. ' Well performed/' I said: then she: 
 ' '7^ // hardly worth the money ^ you agree ? ' 
 Save her ? What for ? To act this wedded lief 
 
XXXVI 
 
 Ml/ Lady unto Madam makes her bow. 
 
 The charm of women is^ that even while 
 
 You ' re probed by them for tears you yet may smile, 
 
 Nay^ laugh outright^ as I have done just now. 
 
 The interview was gracious : they anoint 
 
 CTo me aside\ each other with fine praise : 
 
 Discriminating compliments they raise ^ 
 
 That hit with wondrous aim on the weak point : 
 
 My Lady'' s nose of Nature might complain. 
 
 It is not fashioned aptly to express 
 
 Her character of large-browed steadfastness. 
 
 But Madam says : ' Thereof she may be vain ! ' 
 
 Now Madam' s faulty feature is a glazed 
 
 And inaccessible eye^ that has soft fires ^ 
 
 Wide gates .^ at love- time only. This admires 
 
 My Lady. At the two I stand amazed. 
 
XXX VIl 
 
 Along the garden terrace^ under which 
 A purple valley {lighted at its edge 
 Bt/ smoky torch- flame on the long cloud- ledge 
 Whereunder dropped the char iot\ glimmers rich^ 
 A quiet company we pace^ and wait 
 The dinner-bell in prae-dige stive calm. 
 So sweet up violet banks the Southern balm 
 Breathes round^ we care not if the bell be late : 
 Though here and there grey seniors question Time 
 In irritable coughings. With slow foot 
 The low rosed moon^ the face of Music mute^ 
 Begins among her silent bars to climb. 
 As in and out^ in silvery dusk^ we tread ^ 
 I hear the laugh of Madam ^ and discern 
 My Lady^s heel before me at each turn. 
 Our tragedy^ is it alive or dead ? 
 
XXXVIII 
 
 Give to imagination some pure light 
 In human form to fix ity or you shame 
 The devils with that hideous human game :— 
 Imagination urging appetite! 
 Thus fallen have earth^s greatest Gogmagogs^ 
 Who dazzle us, whom we cannot revere : 
 Imagination is the charioteer 
 That, in default of better, drives the hogs. 
 So, therefore, my dear Lady, let me love / 
 My soul is arrowy to the light in you. 
 You know me that I never can renew 
 The bond that woman broke: what would you have? 
 'T is Love or Vilenessf not a choice between, 
 Save petrifaction/ What does Pity here ? 
 She killed a thing, and now ifs dead, ^i is dear. 
 Oh, when you counsel me, think what you mean! 
 
JCJCJC/JC 
 
 Shei/ie/df : my Lady in her noblest mood 
 
 Has yielded : she^ my golden-crowned rose! 
 
 The bride oj every sense! more sweet than those 
 
 Who breathe the violet breath oj maidenhood, 
 
 O visage of still music in the sky ! 
 
 Soft moon! I feel thy song, my fairest friend ! 
 
 True harmony within can apprehend 
 
 Dumb harmony without. And hark! 't is nigh! 
 
 Belief has struck the note of sound: a gleam 
 
 Of living silver shows m^ where she shook 
 
 Her long white fingers down the shadowy brooky 
 
 That sings her song, half waking, half in dream. 
 
 What two come here tamar this heavenly tune ? 
 
 A man is one : the womdtn bears my name^ 
 
 And honour. Their hands touch! Am I still tame? 
 
 God, what a dancing spectre seems the moon ! 
 
XL 
 
 I bade my Lady think what she might mean. 
 Know I my meanings I? Can I love one^ 
 And yet be Jealous of another ? None 
 Commits such jolly . Terrible Love^ I ween ^ 
 Has mighty even dead^ half sighing to upheave 
 The light less seas of selfishness amain : 
 Seas that in a man's heart have no rain 
 To fall and still them. Peace can I achieve^ 
 By turning to this fountain-source of woe ^ 
 This woman ^ who V to Love as fire to wood? 
 She breathed the violet breath of maidenhood 
 Agciinst my kisses once! but I say., No! 
 The thing is mocked at! Helplessly afloat., 
 I know not what I do., whereto I strive; 
 The dread that my old love may be alive., 
 Has seiz,ed my nursling new love by the throat. 
 
XLI 
 
 How many a thing which we cast to the ground^ 
 When others pick it up becomes a gem ? 
 We grasp at all the wealth it is to them; 
 And by reflected light its worth is found. 
 Yet for us still V // nothing f and that zeal 
 Of false appreciation quickly fades. 
 This truth is little known to human shades^ 
 How rare from their own instinct V // to feel! 
 They waste the soul with spurious desire^ 
 That is not the ripe flame upon the bough. 
 We two have taken up a lifeless vow 
 To rob a living passion : dust for fire ! 
 Madam is grave ^ and eyes the clock that tells 
 Approaching midnight. We have struck despair 
 Into two hearts, O, look we like a pair 
 Who for fresh nuptials joyfully yield all else ? 
 
XLII 
 
 I am to follow her. There is much grace 
 In woman when thus bent on martyrdom. 
 They think that dignity of soul may come^ 
 Perchance^ with dignity of body , Base! 
 But I was taken by that air of cold 
 And statuesque sedateness^ when she said 
 ' Fm going 'y /// a taper ^ bowed her heady 
 And iventy as with the stride of Pallas bold. 
 Fleshly indifference horrible I The hands 
 Of Time now signal : O, she's safe from me ! 
 Within those secret walls what do I see ? 
 Where first she set the taper down she stands : 
 Not Pallas: flebe shamed/ Thoughts black as death 
 Like a stirred pool in sunshine break. Her wrists 
 I catch : she falter ing^ as she half resists ^ 
 ' You love . . ? love . . ? love . . ^^ all on an indrawn 
 breath. 
 
XLIII 
 
 Ma^rk where the pressing wind shoots javelin- like ^ 
 Its skeleton shadow on the broad-backed wave / 
 Mere is a fitting spot to dig Love's grave y 
 Here where the ponderous breakers plunge and 
 
 strike^ 
 And dart their hissing tongues high up the sand: 
 In hearing of the ocean ^ and in sight 
 Of those ribbed wind-streaks running into white. 
 If I the death of Love had deeply planned^ 
 I never could have made it half so sure^ 
 As by the unblest kisses which upbraid 
 The full- waked sense y or failing that^ degrade / 
 ' Tis morning : but no morning can restore 
 What we have forfeited . I see no sin : 
 The wrong is mixed. In tragic life^ God wot^ 
 No villain need be I Passions spin the plot : 
 We are betrayed by what is false within. 
 
XLIV 
 
 They say that Pity in Love's service dwells^ v 
 A porter at the rosy temple'' s gate. 
 I missed him going : hut it is my fate 
 To come upon him now beside his wells • 
 Whereby I know that I Love's temple leave ^ 
 And that the purple doors have closed behind. 
 Poor soul! ij in those early days unkind^ 
 Thy power to sting had been but power to grieve^ 
 We noiv might with an equal spirit meet^ 
 And not be matched like innocence and vice. 
 She for the Temple'' s worship has paid price ^ 
 And takes the coin oj Pity as a cheat. 
 She sees through simulation to the bone : 
 Whafs best in her impels her to the worst: 
 Never ^ she cries y shall Pity soothe Love's thirsty 
 Or foul hypocrisy for truth atone / 
 
XLV 
 
 It is the season of the sweet wild rose^ 
 
 My Lady^s emblem in the heart of me f 
 
 So golden-crowned shines she gloriously ^ 
 
 And with that softest dream of blood she glows : 
 
 Mild as an evening heaven round He s per bright! 
 
 I pluck the flower^ and smell it ^ and revive 
 
 The time when in her eyes I stood alive. 
 
 I seem to look upon it out of Night. 
 
 Here's Madam ^ stepping hastily. Her whims 
 
 Bid her demand the flower^ which I let drop. 
 
 As I proceed^ I feel her sharply stop^ 
 
 And crush it under heel with trembling limbs. 
 
 She joins me in a cat-like way^ and talks 
 
 Of company^ and even condescends 
 
 To utter laughing scandal of old friends. 
 
 These are the summer days^ and these our walks. 
 
XL VI 
 
 At last we parley^ we so strangely dumb 
 In such a close communion ! It befell 
 About the sounding of the Matin-bell^ 
 And lo! her place was vacant^ and the hum 
 Of loneliness was round me. Then I rose^ 
 And my disordered brain did guide my foot 
 To that old wood where our first love-salute 
 Was interchanged : the source of many throes ! 
 There did I see her^ not alone. I moved 
 Toward her^ and made proffer of my arm» 
 She took it simply^ with no rude alarm j 
 And that disturbing shadow passed reproved, 
 I felt the pained speech comings and declared 
 My firm belief in her^ ere she could speak. 
 A ghastly morning came into her cheeky 
 While with a widening soul on me she stared. 
 
XL VI I 
 
 We saw the swallows gathering in the sky^ 
 And in the osier-isle we heard them noise. 
 We had not to look back on summer joys ^ 
 Or forward to a summer of bright dye : 
 But in the largeness of the evening earth 
 Our spirits grew as we went side by side. 
 The hour became her husband and my bride. 
 Love that had robbed us sOy thus blessed our dearth/ 
 The pilgrims of the year waxed very loud 
 In multitudinous chatter ings^ as the flood 
 Full brown came from the West, and like pale blood 
 Expanded to the upper crimson cloud. 
 Love that had robbed us of immortal things ^ 
 This little moment mercifully gave^ 
 Where I have seen across the twilight wave 
 The swan sail with her young beneath her wings. 
 
XL VIII 
 
 Their sense is with their senses all mixed in^ 
 Destroyed by subtleties these women are! 
 More brain ^ OLord^ more brain! or we shall mar 
 Utterly this fair garden we might win. 
 Behold! I looked for peace y and thought it near . 
 Our inmost hearts had opened^ each to each. 
 We drank the pure daylight of honest speech. 
 Alas! that was the fatal draughty I fear. 
 For when of my lost Lady came the word^ 
 This woman y O this agony of flesh! 
 Jealous devotion bade her break the mesh. 
 That I might seek that other like a bird. 
 I do adore the nobleness! despise 
 The act! She has gone f or th, I know not where. 
 Will the hard world my sentience of her share ? 
 I feel the truth; so let the world surmise. 
 
He found her by the ocean'' s moaning verge ^ 
 Nor any wicked change in her discerned ^ 
 And she believed his old lov^ had returned^ 
 
 Which was her exultation^ and her scourge. 
 She took his hand, and walked with him, and seemed 
 The wife he sought^ though shadow- like and dry. 
 She had one terror^ lest her heart should sigh^ 
 And tell her loudly she no longer dreamed. 
 She dared not say ^ ' This is my breast: look in."* - 
 But there's a strength to help the desperate weak. 
 That night he learned how silence best can speak 
 The awful things when Pity pleads for Sin . 
 About the middle of the night her call 
 
 Was heard ^ and he came wondering to the bed. 
 ^Now kiss me^ dear ! it may be^ now! ' she said. 
 Lethe had passed those lips^ and he knew all. 
 
L 
 
 Thus piteous ly Love closed what he begat: 
 The union of this ever-diverse pair f 
 These two were rapid falcons in a snare^ 
 Condemned to do the flitting of the bat. 
 Lovers beneath the singing sky of May^ 
 They wandered once ^ clear as the dew on flowers: 
 But they fed not on the advancing hours : 
 Their hearts held cravings for the buried day. 
 Then each applied to each that fatal knife^ 
 Deep questionings which probes to endless dole. 
 Ah, what a dusty answer gets the soul 
 When hot for certainties in this our life / — 
 /n tragic hints here see what evermore 
 Moves dark as yonder midnight ocean s force. 
 Thundering like ramping hosts of warrior horse, 
 To throw that faint thin line upon the shore! 
 
Printed for Mitchell Kennerley 
 
 by O. H, LaBarre 
 
 New York 
 
DEC S7 1909 
 
 ^^■nsb3 
 
 One copy del. to Cat. Div. 
 

 '^' ".^ 
 
 s'^ 
 
 
 ^ '' 
 
 
 V 
 
 %^ "^ >^ 
 
 
 
 
 
 "^^, 
 
 
 '^c 
 
 \' \^ 
 
 
 
 
 %,^' 
 
 .-^^"^-s^ 
 
 
 
 O- 
 
 
 
 
 ^^ >^ 
 
 .^-v -7- , 
 
 V^ ^ ' " " ' 
 
 
 % / 
 
 r ^ 
 
 
 ' <0 <• "'j- ,^ <,^ 
 
 
 '^/ 
 
 0' 
 
 <p. 
 
 
 
 
 
 ^^ ^-^^ - ff/{Z 
 
 a. 
 
 ^oo^ 
 
 v^" 
 
 
 vOO. 
 
 
 '. % 
 
 
 
 
 %%, ^^ 
 
 
 *^'- • ■>. 
 
 - ^ 
 
 ^;^^>>^ 
 
 
 ci-, t 
 
 
 ^0 C, 
 
 V 
 
 ...^^ 
 
 c'^ 
 
 
 
 ,^"^. 
 
 
 ^'O..^-' ^o G^ 
 
 rO' 
 
 ^\.x< 
 
 A 
 
 '^^ 
 
 ■ i^-^ 
 
 \^^^. 
 
 S^^ ,0^ 
 
 
 
 \.^ „ ^ - o 
 
 %% 
 
 _^0 
 
 ^/' 
 
 
 
 
 c°' 
 
 o> 
 
 
 
 
 "©0^ 
 
 
 -^v^Y 
 
 
 
 
 '^\ 
 
 ^,xV ^ 
 
 •p. 
 
 S^<5 
 
 '' ■ t> 
 
 Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. - 
 Neutralizing agent; Magnesium Oxide 
 Treatment Date; April 2009 
 
 A PreservationTechnologies 
 
 \"^ A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATION 
 
 111 Thomson Park Drive 
 
 111 1 nOinbOii rairN t^i..^ 
 
 Cranberry Township. PA 16066 
 r79i1 773-2111 
 
,^v^„ 
 
 -.S^ -h: 
 
 
 * .xO'^ 
 
 #^ 
 
 "^,. .^' 
 
 o 
 
 >0 0^ 
 
 .^^ -''^^ 
 
 c>, " * 
 
 ^^• 
 
 
 l<^'^ f;-Q^t: ^.f 
 
 ^"i ^ 
 
 ax^^ 
 
 '/, o 
 
 -.^^^ 
 
 •xv- 
 
 ->^% 
 
 CO 
 
 ^v 
 
 
 
 .0 0^ 
 
 V \> .^ ". - 
 
 ..-^ 
 
 /■ % 
 
 r^" 
 
 
 o'?-' 
 
 ^o^ 
 
 
 ■%./ 
 
 ^ "% ' 
 
 
 nO<^.. 
 
 
 
 Si , "- - . 
 
 
 
 ' <^ 
 
 ^' 
 
 o^ 
 
 c^ 
 
 
 '■': .,^- 
 
 ^<^ 
 
 ^. 
 
 
 .^^ A'\ 
 
 
 
 ,0 o^ 
 
 ,0- -o, * 
 
 
 V 
 
 * O- 
 
 OO 
 
 
 '^^ v^^ 
 
 x^^.. 
 
 
 oV- 
 
 ■ o- 
 
 ^>^.' . .'^tv 
 
 
 . .^' 
 
 
 .^%. 
 
 -^0' 
 
 o> c » ^ '- « "<P ,^^^ , 
 
 
 -O' 
 
 ■"-^r '- 
 
 
 
 %/^ 
 
 
 x^^' % 
 
 - .^^