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For Stephanie sprained last night her wrist,
Pooh," cry you?
At any rate she danced, all say,
Vilely; her vogue has had its day. Here comes my husband from his whist.
HERE was I with my arm and heart
While mine, to repay it. . . vainest vaunt,
From the churchyard neither, miles removed,
Which stabs and stops, that the woman I loved Needs help in her grave and finds none near, Wants warmth from the heart which sends it
Did I speak once angrily, all the drear days
I used to sit and look at my life
As it rippled and ran till, right before,
But either I thought, "They may churn and chide
And it suffers no more till it finds the sea." Or else I would think, "Perhaps some night When new things happen, a meteor-ball May slip through the sky in a line of light,
And earth breathe hard, and landmarks fall, And my waves no longer champ nor chafe,
Since a stone will have rolled from its place: let be!"
But, dead! All's done with: wait who may,
Oh, my whole life that ends to-day!
Oh, my soul's sentence, sounding still,
"The woman is dead, that was none of his ;
And the man, that was none of hers, may go!" There's only the past left worry that!
Wreak, like a bull, on the empty coat,
Rage, its late wearer is laughing at !
Tear the collar to rags, having missed his throat; Strike stupidly on "This, this and this,
Where I would that a bosom received the blow!"
I ought to have done more once my speech,
Why, men do more to deserve a friend,
Nor, folding their arms, stare fate in the face.
And borne you away to a rock for us two,
Somewhere your slave, see, born in his place!
What did the other do?
Look at us, Edith!
You be judge!
Give him his six whole years: I grudge
But, as if he loved you! No, not he,
Who ever heard that another, free
As I, young, prosperous, sound and sane, Poured life out, proffered it "Half a glance Of those eyes of yours and I drop the glass!"
Handsome, were you? 'T is more than they held, More than they said; I was 'ware and watched : I was the scapegrace, this rat belled
The cat, this fool got his whiskers scratched: The others? No head that was turned, no heart Broken, my lady, assure yourself!
Each soon made his mind up; so and so
Or maundered, unable to do as much,
On the whole, you were let alone, I think!
Loved you and doved you - did not I laugh! There was a prize! But we both were tried.
Oh, heart of mine, marked broad with her mark, Tekel, found wanting, set aside,
Scorned! See, I bleed these tears in the dark Till comfort come and the last be bled: He? He is tagging your epitaph.
If it would only come over again!
Time to be patient with me, and probe This heart till you punctured the proper vein, Just to learn what blood is: twitch the robe From that blank lay-figure your fancy draped, Prick the leathern heart till the verses spirt! And late it was easy; late, you walked Where a friend might meet you; Edith's name Arose to one's lip if one laughed or talked ;
If I heard good news, you heard the same; When I woke, I knew that your breath escaped; I could bide my time, keep alive, alert.
And alive I shall keep and long, you
And jollily lived to his hundredth year. But I will live otherwise: none of such life! At once I begin as I mean to end.
Go on with the world, get gold in its strife,
Give your spouse the slip and betray your friend! There are two who decline, a woman and I, And enjoy our death in the darkness here.
I liked that way you had with your curls
Wound to a ball in a net behind:
And your mouth—there was never, to my mind, Such a funny mouth, for it would not shut;
And the dented chin too what a chin!
There were certain ways when you spoke, some words That you know you never could pronounce:
You were thin, however; like a bird's
The world was right when it called you thin.
But I turn my back on the world: I take
Thirst at your presence! Fear no slips!
Ere I drank it, and you down with it, thus!
AFTER HE HAS BEEN EXTEMPORIZING UPON THE MUSICAL INSTRUMENT OF HIS INVENTION.
WOULD that the structure brave, the manifold music I build, Bidding my organ obey, calling its keys to their work, Claiming each slave of the sound, at a touch, as when Solomon willed
Armies of angels that soar, legions of demons that lurk, Man, brute, reptile, fly, - alien of end and of aim,
Adverse, each from the other heaven - high, hell-deep removed,
Should rush into sight at once as he named the ineffable Name, And pile him a palace straight, to pleasure the princess he loved!
Would it might tarry like his, the beautiful building of mine, This which my keys in a crowd pressed and importuned to raise!
Ah, one and all, how they helped, would dispart now and now combine,
Zealous to hasten the work, heighten their master his praise ! And one would bury his brow with a blind plunge down to hell, Burrow awhile and build, broad on the roots of things, Then up again swim into sight, having based me my palace well,
Founded it, fearless of flame, flat on the nether springs.
And another would mount and march, like the excellent minion
Ay, another and yet another, one crowd but with many a
Raising my rampired walls of gold as transparent as glass,
For higher still and higher (as a runner tips with fire,
When a great illumination surprises a festal night— Outlining round and round Rome's dome from space to spire) Up, the pinnacled glory reached, and the pride of my soul was in sight.