Pagina-afbeeldingen
PDF
ePub
[merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small]

O, sweet the tunes, the talk, the laughter!
They fill the hour with a glowing tide;
But sweeter the still, deep moments after,
When she is alone by Benjie's side.

But once with angry words they part:
O, then the weary, weary days!
Ever with restless, wretched heart,

Plying her task, she turns to gaze
Far up the road; and early and late

She harks for a footstep at the door, And starts at the gust that swings the gate,

And prays for Benjie, who comes no more. Her fault? O Benjie, and could you steel

[blocks in formation]
[blocks in formation]

'T was a scandal and shame to the business-like The wine beams its brightest, the flowers bloom With solid and dainty the table is drest,

street,

One terrible blot in a ledger so neat:

The shop full of hardware, but black as a hearse,
And the rest of the mansion a thousand times

worse.

Outside, the old plaster, all spatter and stain,
Looked spotty in sunshine and streaky in rain;
The window-sills sprouted with mildewy grass,
And the panes from being broken were known to
be glass.

On the rickety sign-board no learning could spell
The merchant who sold, or the goods he'd to
sell;

But for house and for man a new title took
growth,
Like a fungus,
both.

their best;

[blocks in formation]

spread,

May now enter as ghosts, for they 're every one dead.

Through a chink in the shutter dim lights come and go;

The seats are in order, the dishes a-row :

the Dirt gave its name to them But the luncheon was wealth to the rat and the

mouse

Whose descendants have long left the Dirty Old

House.

Within, there were carpets and cushions of dust,
The wood was half rot, and the metal half rust,
Old curtains, half cobwebs, hung grimly aloof; Cup and platter are masked in thick layers of
'T was a Spiders' Elysium from cellar to roof.

There, king of the spiders, the Dirty Old Man
Lives busy and dirty as ever he can ;
With dirt on his fingers and dirt on his face,
For the Dirty Old Man thinks the dirt no dis-
grace.

dust;

The flowers fallen to powder, the wine swathed
in crust;

A nosegay was laid before one special chair,
And the faded blue ribbon that bound it lies
there.

The old man has played out his part in the scene.

From his wig to his shoes, from his coat to his Wherever he now is, I hope he 's more clean.

shirt,

[blocks in formation]

Yet give we a thought free of scoffing or ban
To that Dirty Old House and that Dirty Old
Man.

WILLIAM ALLINGHAM.

AN EXPERIENCE AND A MORAL.

I LENT my love a book one day;
She brought it back; I laid it by:
"T was little either had to say,
She was so strange, and I so shy.

[merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small]

COMRADES, leave me here a little, while as yet On her pallid cheek and forehead came a color 't is early morn,

and a light,

Leave me here, and when you want me, sound As I have seen the rosy red flushing in the upon the bugle horn.

northern night.

'Tis the place, and all around it, as of old, the And she turned, her bosom shaken with a curlews call, sudden storm of sighs; Dreary gleams about the moorland, flying over All the spirit deeply dawning in the dark of Locksley Hall: hazel eyes,

Locksley Hall, that in the distance overlooks the Saying, "I have hid my feelings, fearing they sandy tracts, should do me wrong;"

And the hollow ocean-ridges roaring into cata- Saying, “Dost thou love me, cousin?" weeping, "I have loved thee long."

racts.

Love took up the glass of time, and turned it in He will answer to the purpose, easy things to his glowing hands; understand,

Every moment, lightly shaken, ran itself in Better thou wert dead before me, though I slew golden sands.

Love took up the harp of life, and smote on all the chords with might;

Smote the chord of self, that, trembling, passed in music out of sight.

thee with my hand.

Better thou and I were lying, hidden from the heart's disgrace,

Rolled in one another's arms, and silent in a last embrace.

Many a morning on the moorland did we hear the Cursed be the social wants that sin against the copses ring, strength of youth! And her whisper thronged my pulses with the Cursed be the social lies that warp us from the fulness of the spring. living truth!

Many an evening by the waters did we watch the Cursed be the sickly forms that err from honest stately ships, nature's rule! And our spirits rushed together at the touching Cursed be the gold that gilds the straitened foreof the lips. head of the fool!

O my cousin, shallow-hearted! O my Amy, Well — 't is well that I should bluster! Hadst mine no more! thou less unworthy proved, O the dreary, dreary moorland! O the barren, Would to God—for I had loved thee more than barren shore ! ever wife was loved.

Falser than all fancy fathoms, falser than all songs Am I mad, that I should cherish that which have sung, bears but bitter fruit? Puppet to a father's threat, and servile to a I will pluck it from my bosom, though my heart shrewish tongue! be at the root.

Is it well to wish thee happy? having known Never! though my mortal summers to such length of years should come

me; to decline

On a range of lower feelings and a narrower heart As the many-wintered crow that leads the clangthan mine! ing rookery home.

Yet it shall be thou shalt lower to his level day Where is comfort? in division of the records of by day, the mind? What is fine within thee growing coarse to sym- Can I part her from herself, and love her, as I pathize with clay. knew her, kind?

As the husband is, the wife is; thou art mated I remember one that perished; sweetly did she with a clown, speak and move; And the grossness of his nature will have weight Such a one do I remember, whom to look at was to drag thee down.

to love.

He will hold thee, when his passion shall have Can I think of her as dead, and love her for the spent its novel force,

Something better than his dog, a little dearer No,

than his horse.

love she bore?

she never loved me truly; love is love forevermore.

What is this? his eyes are heavy, think not Comfort? comfort scorned of devils! this is truth they are glazed with wine.

the poet sings,

Go to him; it is thy duty, - kiss him; take his That a sorrow's crown of sorrow is remembering hand in thine.

It may be my lord is weary, that his brain is overwrought,

Soothe him with thy finer fancies, touch him with thy lighter thought.

happier things.

Drug thy memories, lest thou learn it, lest thy heart be put to proof,

In the dead, unhappy night, and when the rain is on the roof.

Like a dog, he hunts in dreams; and thou art | I had been content to perish, falling on the foestaring at the wall, man's ground,

Where the dying night-lamp flickers, and the When the ranks are rolled in vapor, and the shadows rise and fall. winds are laid with sound.

Then a hand shall pass before thee, pointing to But the jingling of the guinea helps the hurt his drunken sleep, that honor feels,

To thy widowed marriage-pillows, to the tears And the nations do but murmur, snarling at each that thou wilt weep.

Thou shalt hear the "Never, never," whispered by the phantom years,

And a song from out the distance in the ringing of thine ears;

other's heels.

Can I but relive in sadness? I will turn that earlier page.

Hide me from my deep emotion, O thou wondrous mother-age!

And an eye shall vex thee, looking ancient kind- Make me feel the wild pulsation that I felt beness on thy pain. fore the strife, Turn thee, turn thee on thy pillow; get thee to When I heard my days before me, and the tuthy rest again. mult of my life;

Nay, but nature brings thee solace; for a tender Yearning for the large excitement that the comvoice will cry; ing years would yield, 'Tis a purer life than thine, a lip to drain thy Eager-hearted as a boy when first he leaves his trouble dry. father's field,

Baby lips will laugh me down; my latest rival And at night along the dusky highway near and brings thee rest, nearer drawn, Baby fingers, waxen touches, press me from the Sees in heaven the light of London flaring like a dreary dawn;

mother's breast.

O, the child too clothes the father with a dear- And his spirit leaps within him to be gone beness not his due. fore him then, Half is thine and half is his: it will be worthy Underneath the light he looks at, in among the throngs of men ;

of the two.

O, I see thee old and formal, fitted to thy petty Men, my brothers, men the workers, ever reappart, ing something new: With a little hoard of maxims preaching down a | That which they have done but earnest of the daughter's heart. things that they shall do:

"They were dangerous guides, the feelings she For I dipt into the future, far as human eye herself was not exempt could see,

Truly, she herself had suffered " Perish in thy Saw the vision of the world, and all the wonder self-contempt! that would be;

Overlive it lower yet - be happy! wherefore Saw the heavens fill with commerce, argosies of should I care? magic sails,

I myself must mix with action, lest I wither by Pilots of the purple twilight, dropping down with despair. costly bales;

What is that which I should turn to, lighting Heard the heavens fill with shouting, and there upon days like these? rained a ghastly dew

Every door is barred with gold, and opens but to From the nations' airy navies grappling in the golden keys.

central blue;

Every gate is thronged with suitors, all the Far along the world-wide whisper of the southmarkets overflow. wind rushing warm,

I have but an angry fancy: what is that which With the standards of the peoples plunging I should do? through the thunder-storm;

« VorigeDoorgaan »