The sun slipped westward. That peculiar change Which creeps into the air, and speaks of night While yet the day is full of golden light, We felt steal o'er us.
Vivian broke the spell Of dream-fraught silence, throwing down his book:
"Young ladies, please allow me to arrange These wraps about your shoulders. I know well The fickle nature of our atmosphere, - Her smile swift followed by a frown or tear, - And go prepared for changes. Now you look, Like--like--oh, where's a pretty simile?
Had you a pocket mirror here you'd see How well my native talent is displayed In shawling you. Red on the brunette maid; Blue on the blonde--and quite without design (Oh, where IS that comparison of mine?)
Well--like a June rose and a violet blue In one bouquet! I fancy that will do.
And now I crave your patience and a boon, Which is to listen, while I read my rhyme, A floating fancy of the summer time.
'Tis neither witty, wonderful, nor wise, So listen kindly--but don't criticise My maiden effort of the afternoon:
"If all the ships I have at sea Should come a-sailing home to me, Ah, well! the harbour could not hold So many sails as there would be If all my ships came in from sea.
"If half my ships came home from sea, And brought their precious freight to me, Ah, well! I should have wealth as great As any king who sits in state - So rich the treasures that would be In half my ships now out at sea.
"If just one ship I have at sea Should come a-sailing home to me, Ah, well! the storm-clouds then might frown:
For if the others all went down Still rich and proud and glad I'd be, If that one ship came back to me.
"If that one ship went down at sea, And all the others came to me, Weighed down with gems and wealth untold, With glory, honour, riches, gold, The poorest soul on earth I'd be If that one ship came not to me.
"O skies be calm! O winds blow free - Blow all my ships safe home to me.
But if thou sendest some a-wrack To never more come sailing back, Send any--all that skim the sea, But bring my love-ship home to me."
Helen was leaning by me, and her head Rested against my shoulder: as he read, I stroked her hair, and watched the fleecy skies, And when he finished, did not turn my eyes.
I felt too happy and too shy to meet His gaze just then. I said, "'Tis very sweet, And suits the day; does it not, Helen, dear?"
But Helen, voiceless, did not seem to hear.
"'Tis strange," I added, "how you poets sing So feelingly about the very thing You care not for! and dress up an ideal So well, it looks a living, breathing real!
Now, to a listener, your love song seemed A heart's out-pouring; yet I've heard you say Almost the opposite; or that you deemed Position, honour, glory, power, fame, Gained without loss of conscience or good name, The things to live for."
"Have you? Well, you may," Laughed Vivian, "but 'twas years--or months' ago!
And Solomon says wise men change, you know!
I now speak truth! if she I hold most dear Slipped from my life, and no least hope were left, My heart would find the years more lonely here Than if I were of wealth, fame, friends, bereft, And sent, an exile, to a foreign land."
His voice was low, and measured: as he spoke, New, unknown chords of melody awoke Within my soul. I felt my heart expand With that sweet fulness born of love. I turned To hide the blushes on my cheek that burned, And leaning over Helen, breathed her name.
She lay so motionless I thought she slept:
But, as I spoke, I saw her eyes unclose, And o'er her face a sudden glory swept, And a slight tremor thrilled all through her frame.
"Sweet friend," I said, "your face is full of light What were the dreams that made your eyes so bright?"
She only smiled for answer, and arose From her reclining posture at my side, Threw back the clust'ring ringlets from her face With a quick gesture, full of easy grace, And, turning, spoke to Vivian. "Will you guide The boat up near that little clump of green Off to the right? There's where the lilies grow.
We quite forgot our errand here, Maurine, And our few moments have grown into hours.
What will Aunt Ruth think of our ling'ring so?
There--that will do--now I can reach the flowers."
"Hark! just hear that!" and Vivian broke forth singing, "'Row, brothers, row.' The six o'clock bell's ringing!
Who ever knew three hours to go so fast In all the annals of the world, before?
I could have sworn not over one had passed.
Young ladies, I am forced to go ashore!
I thank you for the pleasure you have given; This afternoon has been a glimpse of heaven.
Good-night--sweet dreams! and by your gracious leave, I'll pay my compliments to-morrow eve."
A smile, a bow, and he had gone his way:
And, in the waning glory of the day, Down cool, green lanes, and through the length'ning shadows, Silent, we wandered back across the meadows.
The wreath was finished, and adorned my room; Long afterward, the lilies' copied bloom Was like a horrid spectre in my sight, Staring upon me morning, noon, and night.
The sun went down. The sad new moon rose up, And passed before me like an empty cup, The Great Unseen brims full of pain or bliss, And gives His children, saying, "Drink of this."
A light wind, from the open casement, fanned My brow and Helen's, as we, hand in hand, Sat looking out upon the twilight scene, In dreamy silence. Helen's dark-blue eyes, Like two lost stars that wandered from the skies Some night adown the meteor's shining track, And always had been grieving to go back, Now gazed up, wistfully, at heaven's dome, And seemed to recognise and long for home.
Her sweet voice broke the silence: "Wish, Maurine, Before you speak! you know the moon is new, And anything you wish for will come true Before it wanes. I do believe the sign!
Now tell me your wish, and I'll tell you mine."
I turned and looked up at the slim young moon; And, with an almost superstitious heart, I sighed, "Oh, new moon! help me, by thine art, To grow all grace and goodness, and to be Worthy the love a true heart proffers me."
