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How a blow should fall, such as falls on men,
Nor prove too much for your womanhood.

IX.

It will come, I suspect, at the end of life,
When you walk alone, and review the past;
And I, who so long shall have done with strife,
And journeyed my stage and earned my wage
And retired as was right,—I am called at last
When the Devil stabs you, to lend the knife.

X.

He stabs for the minute of trivial wrong,
Nor the other hours are able to save,
The happy, that lasted my whole life long :
For a promise broke, not for first words spoke,
The true, the only, that turn my grave

To a blaze of joy and a crash of song.

XI.

Witness beforehand! Off I trip

On a safe path gay through the flowers you flung: My very name made great by your lip

And my heart aglow with the good I know Of a perfect year when we both were young, And I tasted the angels' fellowship.

XII.

And witness, moreover . . . Ah, but wait!
I spy the loop whence an arrow shoots!
It may be for yourself, when you meditate,

That you grieve-for slain truth, murdered truth: "Though falsehood escape in the end, what boots? How truth would have triumphed !"-you sigh too late.

XIII.

Ay, who would have triumphed like you I say!
Well, it is lost now; well, you must bear,

Abide and grow fit for a better day.

You should hardly grudge, could I be your judge! But hush! For you, can be no despair:

There's amends: 'tis a secret; hope and pray!

XIV.

For I was true at least-oh, true enough!
And, Dear, truth is not as good as it seems!
Commend me to conscience! Idle stuff!
Much help is in mine, as I mope and pine,

And skulk through day, and scowl in my dreams
At my swan's obtaining the crow's rebuff.

XV.

Men tell me of truth now-"False!" I cry :
Of beauty-" A mask, friend! Look beneath!"
We take our own method, the Devil and I,
With pleasant and fair and wise and rare :
And the best we wish to what lives, is-death;
Which even in wishing, perhaps we lie!

XVI.

Far better commit a fault and have done-
As you, Dear!-forever: and choose the pure,
And look where the healing waters run,
And strive and strain to be good again,
And a place in the other world insure,
All glass and gold, with God for its sun.

XVII.

Misery! What shall I say or do?

I cannot advise, or, at least, persuade.
Most like, you are glad you deceived me-rue
No whit of the wrong you endured too long,

Have done no evil and want no aid,

Will live the old life out and chance the

[graphic]

new.

XVIII.

And your sentence is written all the same,
And I can do nothing,-pray, perhaps :
But somehow the world pursues its game,--
If I pray, if I curse,-for better or

worse:

And my faith is torn to a thousand scraps, And my heart feels ice while my words breathe flame.

XIX.

Dear, I look from my hiding-place.

Are you still so fair? Have you still the
eyes?

Be happy! Add but the other grace,
Be good! Why want what the angels
vaunt ?

I knew you once; but in Paradise,

If we meet, I will pass nor turn my face.

ARE YOU STILL SO FAIR?

TOO LATE.

I.

HERE was I with my arm and heart
And brain, all yours for a word, a want
Put into a look-just a look, your part,--
While mine, to repay it . . vainest vaunt,
Were the woman, that's dead, alive to hear,
Had her lover, that's lost, love's proof to show!
But I cannot show it; you cannot speak

From the churchyard neither, miles removed,
Though I feel by a pulse within my cheek,

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-so!

II.

Did I speak once angrily, all the drear days
You lived, you woman I loved so well,
Who married the other? Blame or praise,
Where was the use then? Time would tell,
And the end declare what man for you,

What woman for me was the choice of God.
But, Edith dead! no doubting more!

I used to sit and look at my life

As it rippled and ran till, right before,
A great stone stopped it: oh, the strife
Of waves at the stone some devil threw
In my life's midcurrent, thwarting God!

III.

But either I thought, " They may churn and chide
A while,―my waves which came for their joy
And found this horrible stone full-tide:

Yet I see just a thread escape, deploy
Through the evening country, silent and safe,
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!"

IV.

But, dead! All's done with wait who may,

Watch and wear and wonder who will.

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!"

V.

I ought to have done more: once my speech
And once your answer, and there, the end,
And Edith was henceforth out of reach!
Why, men do more to deserve a friend,
Be rid of a foe, get rich, grow wise,

Nor, folding their arms, stare fate in the face,
Why, better even have burst like a thief

And borne you away to a rock for us two,
In a moment's horror, bright, bloody, and brief,
Then changed to myself again—“I slew
Myself in that moment; a ruffian lies

Somewhere your slave, see, born in his place!”

:

VI.

What did the other do? You be judge!
Look at us, Edith! Here are we both!
Give him his six whole years: I grudge
None of the life with you, nay, I loathe
Myself that I grudged his start in advance
Of me who could overtake and pass.
But, as if he loved you! No, not he,

Nor anyone else in the world, 'tis plain :
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!"

VII.

Handsome, were you? 'Tis 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

Married a dancer, such and such

Stole his friend's wife, stagnated slow,

Or maundered, unable to do as much,
And muttered of peace where he had no part :
While, hid in the closet, laid on the shelf,—

VIII.

On the whole, you were let alone, I think!
So, you looked to the other, who acquiesced;
My rival, the proud man,-prize your pink

Of poets! A poet he was! I've guessed:
He rhymed you his rubbish nobody read,

Loved you and doved you-did not I laugh! There was a prize! But we both were tried.

O 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.

IX.

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.

X.

And alive I shall keep and long, you will see!
I knew a man, was kicked like a dog

From gutter to cesspool; what cared he

So long as he picked from the filth his prog?

He saw youth, beauty, and genius die,
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.

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