HER LAST WORDS.

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HER LAST WORDS.

No, let me alone-'tis better so,

My way and yours are widely far apart, Why should you stop to grieve about my woe? And why should I not step across your heart? A man's heart is a poor thing at the best, And yours is no whit better than the rest.

I loved you once! Ah, yes! Perhaps, I did. Women are curious things, you know, and strange,

And hard to understand, and then besides,

The key of her soul's music oft doth change, And so-ah! do not look at me that way! I loved you once, but that was yesterday!

Sometimes a careless word doth rankle deep-
So deep that it can change a heart like this,
And blot out all the long sweet throbbing hours
That went before, crowned gold with rapturous
bliss;

So deep that it can blot out hours divine,
And make a heart as hard and cold as mine.

Nay, do not speak. I never can forget;

So let us say good-bye, and go our ways. Mayhap the pansies will start from the dust

Of our past days—the slumbrous, happy days

When I was trusting, and life knew no grief,
But blossomed with my clinging, sweet belief.

Good-bye! Good-bye! Part of my life you take,
Its fairest part. Nay, do not touch my lips.
Once they were yours, but now, oh, my lost love!
I would not have you touch my finger tips,
And saying this I feel no chill of pain,
I cannot even weep above my slain.

If God cares aught for women who have loved And worshiped idols false, I trust he will Keep us so far apart that never more

Our paths may cross. Why are you standing still?

Good-bye, I say. This is the day's dim close; Our love is no more worth than last year's rose.

LIFE.

We meet and we part; the world is wide;
We journey onward side by side

A little way, and then again
Our paths diverge; a little pain,
A silent yearning of the heart
For what had grown of life a part,
A feeling of somewhat bereft,
A closer clasp on what is left,

LONGINGS.

A shadow passing o'er the sun,
Then gone, and light again has come.
We meet and part, and then forget,
And life holds blessings for us yet.

LONGINGS.

If I could hold your hands to-night,
Just for a little while, and know
That only I, of all the world,
Possessed them so.

A slender shape in that old chair,
If I could see you here to-night,
Between me and the twilight pale-
So light and frail.

Your cool white dress, its folding lost
In one broad sweep of shadow gray;
Your weary head just drooped aside,
That sweet old way.

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Bowed like a flower-cup splashed with rain,
The darkness crossing half your face,
And just the glimmer of a smile

For one to trace.

If I could see your eyes that reach
Far out into the farthest sky,

Where past the trail of dying suns
The old years lie.

Or touch your silent lips to-night,
And steal the sadness from their smile,
And find the last kiss they have kept
This weary while!

If it could be-Oh, all in vain
The restless trouble of my soul
Sets, as the great tides of the moon,
Toward your control!

In vain the longings of the lips,
The eye's desire, and the pain;
The hunger of the heart-O love,
Is it in vain.

LAST NIGHT.

Last night, within the little curtained room,

Where the gay music sounded faintly clear, And silver lights came stealing through the gloom,

You told the tale that women love to hear; You told it well, with firm hands clasping mine, And deep eyes glowing with a tender light, Mere acting? But your prayer was half divine Last night, last night.

Ah, you had much to offer; wealth enough

To gild the future, and a path of ease

For one whose way is somewhat dark and rough; New friends-life calm as summer seas

IMPERISHABLE REMEMBRANCE. 193

And something (was it love?) to keep us true
And make us precious in each other's sight.
Ah, then, indeed, my heart's resolve I knew,
Last night, last night.

Let the world go, with all its dross and pelf!
Only for one like Portia, could I
say:
"I would be trebled twenty times myself;"

Only for one, and he is far away;

His voice came back to me, with the pain of lost delight;

The present faded, but the past was clear,
Last night, last night.

If others answered as I answered then,

We would hear less, perchance, of blighted lives;

There would be truer women, nobler men,

And fewer dreary homes and faithless wives; Because I could not give you all the best,

I gave you nothing. Judge me-was I right? You may thank heaven that I stood the test Last night, last night.

IMPERISHABLE REMEMBRANCE.
They say, if our beloved dead

Should seek the old, familiar place,
Some stranger would be there instead,
And they would find no welcoming face.