Classic Poem

I. — March .

Her baby lies in the corner,
But she must be out and about,
Ere the Saturday night grows later,
Or louder the market rout.

She must be out, lest he seek her
In the riot of the street, —
And pass by, murmuring Mari!
As he drives his tired feet.

Suppose, — suppose in the darkness,
He passed and could not see
Her door in the dusty alley
Where the wind blows gustily?

" One winter's night, your candle,"
He said, " shall light me home."
His babe has come to the cradle,
But he, — he has not come!

Once only went one, like him:
" Oh wait, Will, wait!" she cried;
But never turned the stranger
In that strange flowing tide.

Instead there spoke one to her:
Too well she understood: —
" Such eyes as hers had silver,
For asking!" Heav'n be good!

For answer, o'er the riot,
She thought she heard the cry
Of her baby in the corner,
That cried eternally.

II. — O CTOBER .

T HE P HILOSOPHY OF THE P AVEMENT .

What if my face be pale, she said:
For I can buy it colour.
What if my virtue's frail, she said:
Since life gets dull and duller,
Let it go fast and faster, till I'm dead!

And if I die so soon, she said,
Far better, dead and buried,
Than living this wild life, she said,
Where women are so wearied,
Upon the endless pavement that they tread.

And if God is so great, she said,
He still may stoop and save me!
And if it be but fate, she said,
These eyes and red lips, gave me?
What use is left in praying, then? she said.

But if we had our way, she said,
With men, — then we would love them,
Not as for everyday, she said,
But with God's stars above them,
And flowers below, to dress the day! she said.

Then hardest hardest men, she said,
Would only love for kindness;
And all sad women then, she said,
Should end their tears and blindness:
And Christ save Mari Magdalen! she said.