A Woman's Love Letters

A Woman's Love Letters

Title: A Woman's Love Letters Author: Sophia Margaretta Hensley Release Date: May 8, 2006 [EBook #18351] Language: English Credits: Produced by Thierry Alberto, Christine D. and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by the Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions (www.canadiana.org)) I stood far off above the haunts of men Somewhere, I know not, when the sky was dim From some worn glory, and the morning hymn Of the gay oriole echoed from the glen. Wandering, I felt earth's peace, nor knew I sought A visioned face, a voice the wind had caught. I passed the waking things that stirred and gazed, Thought-bound, and heeded not; the waking flowers Drank in the morning mist, dawn's tender showers, [Pg2] And looked forth for the Day-god who had blazed His heart away and died at sundown. Far In the gray west faded a loitering star. It seemed that I had wandered through long years, A life of years, still seeking gropingly A thing I dared not name; now I could see In the still dawn a hope, in the soft tears Of the deep-hearted violets a breath Of kinship, like the herald voice of Death. Slow moved the morning; where the hill was bare Woke a reluctant breeze. Dimly I knew My Day was come. The wind-blown blossoms threw Their breath about me, and the pine-swept air Grew to a shape, a mighty, formless thing, A phantom of the wood's imagining. [Pg3] And as I gazed, spell-bound, it seemed to move Its tendril limbs, still swaying tremulously As if in spirit-doubt; then glad and free Crystalled the being won from waiting grove Into a human likeness. There he stood, The vine-browed shape of Nature's mortal mood. "Now have I found thee, Vision I have sought These years, unknowing; surely thou art fair And inly wise, and on thy tasselled hair Glows Heaven's own light. Passion and fame are naught To thy clear eyes, O Prince of many lands, Grant me thy joy," I cried, and stretched my hands. No answer but the flourish of the breeze Through the black pines. Then, slowly, as the wind [Pg4] Parts the dense cloud-forms, leaving naught behind But shapeless vapor, through the budding trees Drifted some force unseen, and from my sight Faded my god into the morning light. Again alone. With wistful, straining eyes I waited, and the sunshine flecked the bank Happy with arbutus and violets where I sank Hearing, near by, a host of melodies, The rapture of the woodthrush; soft her mood The love-mate, with such golden numbers woo'd. He ceased; the fresh moss-odors filled the grove With a strange sweetness, the dark hemlock boughs Moved soft, as though they heard the brooklet rouse To its spring soul, and whisper low of love. [Pg5] The white-robed birches stood unbendingly Like royal maids, in proud expectancy. Athwart the ramage where the young leaves press It came to me, ah, call it what you will Vision or waking dream, I see it still! Again a form born of the woodland stress Grew to my gaze, and by some secret sign Though shadow-hid, I knew the form was thine. The glancing sunlight made thy ruddy hair A crown of gold, but on thy spirit-face There was no smile, only a tender grace Of love half doubt. Upon thy hand a rare Wild bird of Paradise perched fearlessly With radiant plumage and still, lustrous eye. And as I gazed I saw what I had deemed A shadow near thy hand, a dusky wing, A bird like last year's leaves, so dull a thing Beside its fellow; as the sunshine gleamed [Pg6] Each breast showed letters bright as crystalled rain, The fair bird bore "Delight," the other "Pain." Then came thy voice: "O Love, wilt have my gift?" I stretched my glad hands eagerly to grasp The heaven-blown bird, gold-hued, and longed to clasp It close and know it mine. Ere I might lift The shining thing and hold it to my breast Again I heard thy voice with vague unrest. "These are twin birds and may not parted be." Full in thine eyes I gazed, and read therein The paradox of life, of love, of sin, As on a night of cloud and mystery One darting flash makes bright the hidden ways, And feet tread knowingly though thick the haze. [Pg7] Thy gift, if so I chose,no other hand Save thine.I reached and gathered to my heart The quivering, sentient things.Sometimes I start To know them hidden there.If I should stand Idly, some day, and one,God help me!breast A homing breeze,my brown bird knows its nest. [Pg8] ......Buy Now (To Read More)

Product details

Ebook Number: 18351
Author: Hensley, Sophia Margaretta
Release Date: May 8, 2006
Format: eBook
Language: English