20
It was all like a dream to him, soon to be fled,
Those shadowy hours when they talked or were still.
But luminous flashes of what she said
Came back to him still.—
“My wonder-hour is over,
The hour in which I loved so recklessly.
And you,—dearest of all my April lovers,—
Think not too ill of me!
I, too, have dreamed,—would that I still were dreaming,
If only for your sake.
But round me lights are gleaming
Of icy dawn, and I have fallen awake. . . .
“My heart is wise: I cannot take your hand
And seek with you the quiet happy land
Of mere contented love that some hearts know.
Yet I am too distrustful now to go
Back to the glittering regions I have known
And be a spent leaf blown
In that unquiet gust
Of swift illusion and the moment's lust. . . .
My heart is as a stone! …
And in the universe I am alone,
And none can help me. I must go
Toward some devotion that I do not know.
Strange! after all the seekings of the past
To find it is myself I need at last! …
“As if in nightmare-dreams, I now recall,
I have poised delicately lest I fall
From dangerous heights where I kept carnival—
Poised in a terrible dream of fear. . . . Now I have fallen awake—and that is all. . . .
“Oh hate me if you must!
I have betrayed your happiness and trust.
But, dear, back to myself I could not choose but go.
And I pass from you lonelier than you know.”
And then it was, he said—
“If you were dead,
You who have made me happy and tortured me
With your inscrutable soul's perversity,—
Then I
Would weave around your name such golden song
As to no other woman might belong
Through all of history.”
And she replied
Doubtfully, tenderly,—
“Would that I long ago had died!
For you, dear, I would die, save that the test
Would rob you of more rest
Than even my perversity of now.
Dear one, how painfully that vow
Would haunt your sleep forever!
No, for your sake, I will forbear to sever
The blue vein here; and though I cannot smile
With quite the madness that I once could use,
Surely I needs must choose
To save you from your oath, and live a little while!”
The rain came down
Quietly, steadily, over the town.
They sat, silent; he dreaming of the lays
Whose coronal of praise
He would have woven for her were she dead.
Death-watch he seemed to keep—
For she had fallen asleep,
Resting upon his shoulder her quiet head.
Those shadowy hours when they talked or were still.
But luminous flashes of what she said
Came back to him still.—
“My wonder-hour is over,
The hour in which I loved so recklessly.
And you,—dearest of all my April lovers,—
Think not too ill of me!
I, too, have dreamed,—would that I still were dreaming,
If only for your sake.
But round me lights are gleaming
Of icy dawn, and I have fallen awake. . . .
“My heart is wise: I cannot take your hand
And seek with you the quiet happy land
Of mere contented love that some hearts know.
Yet I am too distrustful now to go
Back to the glittering regions I have known
And be a spent leaf blown
In that unquiet gust
Of swift illusion and the moment's lust. . . .
My heart is as a stone! …
And in the universe I am alone,
And none can help me. I must go
Toward some devotion that I do not know.
Strange! after all the seekings of the past
To find it is myself I need at last! …
“As if in nightmare-dreams, I now recall,
I have poised delicately lest I fall
From dangerous heights where I kept carnival—
Poised in a terrible dream of fear. . . . Now I have fallen awake—and that is all. . . .
“Oh hate me if you must!
I have betrayed your happiness and trust.
But, dear, back to myself I could not choose but go.
And I pass from you lonelier than you know.”
And then it was, he said—
“If you were dead,
You who have made me happy and tortured me
With your inscrutable soul's perversity,—
Then I
Would weave around your name such golden song
As to no other woman might belong
Through all of history.”
And she replied
Doubtfully, tenderly,—
“Would that I long ago had died!
For you, dear, I would die, save that the test
Would rob you of more rest
Than even my perversity of now.
Dear one, how painfully that vow
Would haunt your sleep forever!
No, for your sake, I will forbear to sever
The blue vein here; and though I cannot smile
With quite the madness that I once could use,
Surely I needs must choose
To save you from your oath, and live a little while!”
The rain came down
Quietly, steadily, over the town.
They sat, silent; he dreaming of the lays
Whose coronal of praise
He would have woven for her were she dead.
Death-watch he seemed to keep—
For she had fallen asleep,
Resting upon his shoulder her quiet head.
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