tney
Gypsy Verses
To
G. V. W.
because she is my friend
Acknowledgment is made to Messrs. Harper and Brothers, the Century Company, and the Metropolitan Magazine for courteous permission to reproduce certain of the verses included in this volume.
Oh, you were not so idle—
You wore a sprig of green;
You wore a feather in your cap,
The reddest ever seen.
Your face was laughing gypsy brown,
Your eyes were of the blue;
You wandered up and down the world,
For you had much to do.
For oh, you were not idle,
Whatever men might say—
You made the colour of the year
Magnificent and gay.
ATARAH
With painted slender folded hands
She waited what might come,
Her head was tyred with jewelled bands,
Her mouth was sweet and dumb.
Her cymar was of ardassine,
Fire red from throat to hem,
Broidered with Turkis stones therein—
She gave her soul for them.
Faint cassia and love-haunted myrrh
Made perilous her hair,
And what was Sidon’s woe to her
Whose face was king’s despair?
Nor life nor love from those cold lips,
But ah, in what degree,
Her passionate lover leans and sips
Her death-bright poesy.
AGE
Blindness, and women wailing on white seas,
Seas where no placid sails have ever been,
Dreams like wan demons on waste marshes seen
Thro’ dulling, fevered eyes. The dregs and lees
Of wine long spilt to dead divinities.
Grey, empty days when Spring is never green,
Can the heart answer what these riddles mean—
Can the life hold such hopelessness as these?
Love lying low in the long pleasant grass,
Youth with his eager face against the sun,
They may not guess the hours when these shall pass,
In what drear coin such lovely dreams are paid,
At what grim cost their flowery days are won,
When man is old and lonely and afraid.
LOVE AND DAWN
Dawn shaking long light pennons in the East—
Is love the least
And love the greatest of the morning’s woes?
See how the rose
Breaks in a hundred petals down the sky.
Darkness must die,
And in the heart, where flutters sad desire,
Wakes the new fire
Silver and azure of the open day.
So, grief, away!
We will be glad with flagons, drown old pain,
And Dawn shall bring us to her own again.
L’AMOUR AMBIGUEUX
You are the dreams we do not dare to dream,
The dim florescence of a mystic rose,
In poverty or pride love comes and goes,
We do not question what the deeps may seem
Launched on the steady current of the stream.
Gaily and hardily we hear the prose;
In youth, red sun, in age the charnel snows.
Nor see the banks where subtle flowers gleam,
In green sweet beds of moly and of thyme
Wild as an errant fancy. All the while
We know you, mystic rose; we know your smile,
Your deep, still eyes, your fragrant floating hair,
The peacock purple of the gown you wear,
O lyric alchemist of rune and rhyme!
SAPPHICS
Leave the Vine, Ah Love, and the wreath of myrtle,
Leave the Song, to die, on the lips of laughter,
Come, for love is faint with the choric measure,
Weary of waiting.
Down the sky in lines of pellucid amber
Blows the hair of her whom the gods have treasured,
Fair, more fair is mine in the ring of maidens,
Mine for the taking.
SATAN, PRINCE OF DARKNESS
I sinned, but gloriously. I bore the fall
From Heaven’s high places as becomes a king.
I did not shrink before the utmost sting
Of torture or of banishment. The pall
Of Dis, I cried, should be the hall
Where sad proud men of men should meet and sing
The woes of that defeat ambitions bring
Hurled from the last vain fight against the wall.
I thought I had been punished. To forego
All lovely sights, the whisper of fresh rain,
To brood forever endlessly on pain
Yet still a Prince, Ah God, I dreamed,—and then
I learned my Fate, this wandering to and fro
In Devil’s work among the sons of men.
IN PRISON
Above her task the long year through
She works with steady hands,
The while her heart is tired with dreams
Which no man understands.
For long and long ago she knew
Green trees and open sky,
Before the law condemned her days
To doom until she die.
And so she dreams in mystic peace,
Indifferent to the scene,
Because her heart retains and knows
The little stain of green.
GHOSTS
The
