II Not a twinkle from the fly, Not a glimmer from the worm.. When the crickets stopped their cry, When the owls forbore a term, You heard music; that was I. III Sultrily suspired for proof : Lightning !-where it broke the roof, Bloodlike, some few drops of rain. IV What they could my words expressed, O my love, my all, my one ! Singing helped the verses best, And when singing's best was done, To my lute I left the rest. So wore night; the East was gray, White the broad-faced hemlock flowers : There would be another day; Ere its first of heavy hours Found me, I had passed away. VI Words and song and lute as well ? “Feebly for the path where fell “ Light last on the evening slopes, VII “ One friend in that path shall be, “ To secure my step from wrong ; “ One to count night day for me, “ Patient through the watches long, “ Serving most with none to see.” VIII Never say—as something bodes “So, the worst has yet a worse ! “ When life halts 'neath double loads, “ Better the task-master's curse “ Than such music on the roads ! IX “When no moon succeeds the sun, “ Nor can pierce the midnight's tent “ Any star, the smallest one, “While some drops, where lightning rent: “ Show the final storm begun х “ When the fire-fly hides its spot, “ When the garden-voices fail “ In the darkness thick and hot, “ Shall another voice avail, " That shape be where these are not? XI “ Has some plague a longer lease, “ Proffering its help uncouth? “ Can't one even die in peace? “ As one shuts one's eye on youth, 6 Is that face the last one sees?" XII Oh how dark your villa was, Windows fast and obdurate ! Where I stood—the iron gate YOUTH AND ART. It once might have been, once only: We lodged in a street together, I, a lone she-bird of his feather. Your trade was with sticks and clay, You thumbed, thrust, patted and polished Then laughed “ They will see, some day, “ Smith made, and Gibson demolished.” IIT My business was song, song, song ; I chirped, cheeped, trilled and twittered, “Kate Brown's on the boards ere long, “ And Grisi's existence embittered ! • IV I earned no more by a warble Than you by a sketch in plaster; You wanted a piece of marble, I needed a music-master. We studied hard in our styles, Chipped each at a crust like Hindoos, For air, looked out on the tiles, For fun, watched each other's windows. VI You lounged, like a boy of the South, . Cap and blouse--nay, a bit of beard too ; Or you got it, rubbing your mouth With fingers the clay adhered to. VII And I-soon managed to find Weak points in the flower-fence facing, Was forced to put up a blind And be safe in my corset-lacing. VIII No harm! It was not my fault If you never turned your eye's tail up As I shook upon E in alt., Or ran the chromatic scale up : IX For spring bade the sparrows pair, And the boys and girls gave guesses, And stalls in our street looked rare With bulrush and watercresses. X In a pellet of clay and Aling it? Of thanks in a look, or sing it? XI (And yet the memory rankles) When models arrived, some minx Tripped up stairs, she and her ankles. XIT But I think I gave you as good! “That foreign fellow,—who can know “How she pays, in a playful mood, “For his tuning her that piano ?” XIII Could you say so, and never say “Suppose we join hands and fortunes, “And I fetch her from over the way, “Her, piano, and long tunes and short tunes ?" XIV Nor I rasher and something over : And Grisi yet lives in clover. XV But you meet the Prince at the Board, I’m queen myself at bals-parés, I've married a rich old lord, And you ’re dubbed knight and an R.A. XVI It hangs still, patchy and scrappy: Starved, feasted, despaired,-been happy. |