| |
| David. [Re-reading a letter.] HOW may a letter bring such darkness down— | |
| With this: “She dallied with your love too long!” | |
| And this: “It is the word of all the town: | |
| “Corinna has no soul, for all her song!” | |
| Martha. [Entering with flowers.] O sir, I bring you flaming bergamot, | 5 |
| And early asters, for your window-sill. | |
| And where I found them? Now you’ll guess it not. | |
| I visited the garden on the hill, | |
| And gathered till my arms could hold no more. | |
| David. The garden of the little silent house! | 10 |
| Martha. The city lured her from her viny door. | |
| But see, the flowers have stayed! | |
| David. They seem to drowse | |
| And dream of one they lost, a paler-blown. | |
| How fares the house upon the hill? | 15 |
| Martha. The blinds | |
| Are fast of late, and all are intergrown | |
| With weedy havoc tossed by searching winds. | |
| David. How somber suddenly the sky! A shower | |
| Is in the air. | 20 |
| Martha. I’ll light the lamps. | |
| David. Not yet. | |
| Leave me the beauty of the twilit hour. | |
| Martha. Hear the wind rising! How the moorings fret! | |
| More than a shower is on its way through space. | 25 |
| I would not be aboard of yonder barque. [She goes out.] | |
| David. Corinna! Now may I recall her face. | |
| It is my light to think by in the dark. | |
| Yes, all my years of study, all the will | |
| Tenacious to achieve, the tempered strife, | 30 |
| The victories attained through patient skill, | |
| Lie at the door of one dear human life. | |
| And yet … the letter … | |
| Often have I read | |
| How love relumes the flowers and the trees. | 35 |
| True! For my world is newly garmented: | |
| Rewards seem slight, and slighter penalties. | |
| Daily companionship is more and more. | |
| To make one little good more viable, | |
| To lift one load, is worth the heart’s outpour. | 40 |
| And she—she has made all things wonderful. | |
And yet … the letter …
O to break a spell | |
| Wherein the stars are crumbling unto dust! | |
| There never was a hope—I know it well, | |
| And struggle on, and love because I must. | 45 |
| Never a hope? Shall ever any scheme, | |
| Her silence, or alarm of written word, | |
| Or voiced asseveration, shake my dream? | |
| She loves me! By love’s anguish, I have heard! | |
| We two from our soul-towers across a vale | 50 |
| Are calling each to each, alert, aware. | |
| Shall one of us one day the other hail, | |
| And no reply be borne upon the air? | |
| Corinna, come to light my heart’s dim place! | |
| O come to me, Belovèd and Besought, | 55 |
| O’er grief, o’er gladness,—even o’er death apace,— | |
| For I could greet your phantom, so it brought | |
Love’s own reality!…
A song of hers | |
| Seems striving hither, a faint villanelle | |
| Half smothered by the gale’s mad roisterers. | 60 |
| She used to sing it in the bracken dell. | |
| Here is the rain against the window beating | |
| In heavy drops that presage wilder storm. | |
| The lake is lost within a lurid sheeting; | |
| The house upon the hill has changed its form. | 65 |
| The melancholy pine-trees weep in rocking. | |
| And what’s that clamor at the outer door? | |
| Martha! O Martha! Somebody is knocking! [Calling.] | |
| Martha. [Re-entering.] You hear the rills that down the gutters roar. | |
| David. And are you deaf? The door—go open it! | 70 |
| This is no night to leave a man outside! | |
| Martha. [Muttering and going toward the door.] And is it I am growing deaf a bit, | |
| And blind a bit, with other ill-betide! | |
| Well, I can see to thread a needle still, | |
| And I can hear the ticking of the clock, | 75 |
| And I can fetch a basket from the mill. | |
But hallow me if ever I heard knock!
[She throws the door open. David starts up and rushes forward with outstretched arms.] | |
| David. Corinna! You, Corinna! Drenched and cold! | |
| At last, at last! But how in all the rain! | |
| Martha! [Martha stands motionless, unseeing.] Good Martha, you are growing old! | 80 |
| Draw fast the shades—shut out the hurricane. | |
| Here, take the dripping cloak from out the room; | |
| Bring cordial from the purple damson pressed, | |
| And light the lamps, the candles—fire the gloom. | |
| Why stand you gaping? See you not the guest? | 85 |
| Martha. I opened wide the door unto the storm. | |
| But never heard I step upon the sill. | |
| All the black night let in no living form. | |
| I see no guest. Look hard as e’er I will, | |
| I see none here but you and my poor self. | 90 |
| David. The room that was my mother’s room prepare. | |
| Spread out warm garments on the oaken shelf— | |
Her gown, the little shawl she used to wear.
[Martha, wide-eyed, bewildered, lights the lamps and candles and goes out, raising her hands.] | |
| Corinna. The moments I may tarry fade and press. | |
| Something impelled me hither, some clear flame. | 95 |
| They said I had no soul! O David, yes, | |
| They said I had no soul! And so I came. | |
| I have been singing, singing, all the way, | |
| O, singing ever since the darkness grew | |
| And I grew chill and followed the small ray. | 100 |
| Lean close, and let my longing rest in you! | |
| David. Dear balm of light, I never thought to win | |
| From out the pallid hours for ever throbbing! | |
| How did you know the sorrow I was in? | |
| Corinna. A flock of leaves came sobbing, sobbing, sobbing. | 105 |
| David. O, now I hold you fast, my love, my own, | |
| My festival upleaping from an ember! | |
| But, timid child, how could you come alone | |
| Across the pathless woods? | |
| Corinna. Do you remember?— | 110 |
| Over the summer lake one starry, stilly, | |
| Sweet night, when you and I were drifting, dear, | |
| I frighted at the shadow of a lily! | |
| It is all strange, but now I have no fear. | |
| David. Your eyes are weary, drooping. Sleep, then, sleep. | 115 |
| Corinna. I must go over to the silent house. | |
| David. The dwelling stands forsaken up the steep, | |
| With never beast nor human to arouse! | |
| Corinna. Soon will the windows gleam with many lamps. | |
| Hark!—heavy wheels are toiling to the north. | 120 |
| David. I will go with you where the darkness ramps. | |
| Corinna. Strong arms are in the storm to bear me forth. | |
| David. Not in these garments dripping as the trees! | |
| Not in these clinging shadows! | |
| Corinna. Ah, good-night! | 125 |
| Dear love, dear love, I must go forth in these. | |
| Tomorrow you shall see me all in white. | |
| |
