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Did you know well that youth of whom you spake?
WALTER.
Know him! Oh, yes, I knew him as myself-- Two pa.s.sions dwelt at once within his soul, Like eve and sunset dwelling in one sky.
And as the sunset dies along the west, Eve higher lifts her front of trembling stars, Till she is seated in the middle sky, So gradual, one pa.s.sion slowly died, And from its death the other drew fresh life, Until 't was seated in his soul alone-- The dead was Love--the living, Poetry.
VIOLET.
Alas! if Love rose never from the dead.
WALTER.
Between him and the Lady of his Love There stood a wrinkled worldling ripe for h.e.l.l.
When with his golden hand he plucked that flower, And would have smelt it, lo! it paled and shrank, And withered in his grasp. And when she died, The rivers of his heart ran all to waste; They found no ocean, dry sands sucked them up.
Lady! he was a fool--a pitiful fool.
She said she loved him, would be dead in spring-- She asked him but to stand beside her grave-- She said she would be daisies--and she thought 'Twould give her joy to feel that he was near.
She died like music; and, would you believe 't?
He kept her foolish words within his heart As ceremonious as a chapel keeps A relic of a saint. And in the spring The doting idiot went!
VIOLET.
What found he there?
WALTER.
Laugh till your sides ache! Oh, he went, poor fool!
But he found nothing save red-trampled clay, And a dull sobbing rain. Do you not laugh?
Amid the comfortless rain he stood and wept, Bare-headed, in the mocking, pelting rain.
He might have known 'twas ever so on earth.
VIOLET.
You cannot laugh yourself, Sir, nor can I.
Her unpolluted corse doth sleep in earth, Like a pure thought within a sinful soul.
Dearer is earth to G.o.d for her sweet sake.
WALTER.
'Tis said our nature is corrupt; but she O'erlaid hers with all graces, ev'n as Night Wears such a crowd of jewels on her face, You cannot see 'tis black.
VIOLET.
How looked this youth?
Did he in voice or mien resemble you?
Was he about your age? Wore he such curls?
Such eyes of dark sea-blue?
WALTER.
Why do you ask?
VIOLET.
I thought just now you might resemble him.
Were you not brothers?--twins? Or was the one A shadow of the other?
WALTER.
What mean you?
VIOLET.
That like the moon you need not wrap yourself In any cloud; you s.h.i.+ne through each disguise; You are a masker in a mask of gla.s.s.
You've such transparent sides, each casual eye May see the heaving heart.
WALTER.
Oh, misery!
Is 't visible to thee?
VIOLET.
'Tis clear as dew!
Mine eyes have been upon it all the night, Unknown to you.
WALTER.
The sorrowful alone Can know the sorrowful. What woe is thine, That thou canst read me thus?
VIOLET.
A new-born power, Whose unformed features cannot clearly show Whether 'tis Joy or Sorrow. But the years May nurture it to either.
WALTER.
To thee I'm bare.
My heart lies open to you, as the earth To the omniscient sun. I have a work-- The finger of my soul doth point it out; I trust G.o.d's finger points it also out.
I must attempt it; if my sinews fail, On my unsheltered head men's scorns will fall, Like a slow shower of fire. Yet if one tear Were mingled with them, it were less to bear.
VIOLET.
I'll give thee tears.--
WALTER.
That were as queenly Night Would loosen all the jewels from her hair, And hail them on this sordid thing, the earth.
Thy tears keep for a worthier head than mine.
