Edna Worthley Underwood

“ At night, twin urns, your eyes are filled with sleep
From some far, silent sea I do not know,
Some far, far sea whither I may not go,
Where you do leave me for the tideless deep.
At dawn when you come back again you keep
Your soul so recessed, hidden from me so,
Our old love seems as steps in melting snow
Hastening unto the twin, dim urns of sleep. ”

“ Night long there pulses upward on the air
The breath of the great earth-breast’s heat fiercely,
A Titan’s passion like to, first set free
With blackness of the night, exhaustless, there.
A woman, passion-pale, with gems like rain,
Leans listless by stone parapets, again
Lifts arms voluptuous toward where afar
A rider’s armor shines beneath a star,
Her jewels all a-shiver as a pearl
When into ocean depths the sun-rays whirl. ”

“ Do come and lowly kneel where you sit high—
Soul-naked do I come as humble ones
Who in some fair, far south seek meed of suns—
O! crueller than to them rude Winter’s wing,
Life’s storms to her who seeks such sheltering!
40 XXXII
That little song you sang to me, Dear One,
Has blotted out the present, brought to view
This painted vision that a pagan knew:
Quai of Alexandria, low, fading sun,
Frail, floating, purple night-shadows that run
Across sands deeply bronze, dulled by no dew;
A maid, nude, save for gauze crocus in hue
Through which shines polished flesh like to a sun. ”

“ Red-robed, gold palm-embroiderèd—to Rome—
Gods like unto, with glory good to see,
On cars charioted of ivory,
Through gates triumphal, flower-up-built to dome,
While at their feet the masses moaning roam
And they, joy-drunk, cry:—“Io Triompe!”
Thus, Love, at life’s high noon enter my heart!
(Not like one monkish bred, cringing with fear,
Black clad, furtive of eye for dangers near,)
Come as the Cæsars came! Be that your part,
Bright robed, triumphant, bold for victory,
And o’er my conquered soul cry—“Triompe!”
26 XVIII
You praised my speech to-day. ”

“ Hair like sun-flushed tree-tops at sweet twilight.
Unto the Opal Chambers of the Moon,
The irised chambers of old revelry
They hasten down Night’s stairs of ivory.
Faint grow the little star-lamps. They fade soon. ”

“ My heart is filled with joy like spring-fed streams
By floating, fragile, white mist-billows fanned,
Prismatic curtains by the sun’s light planned,
The substance iridescent of our dreams.
My heart is filled with joy, for Love dwells there,
New Heaven for me making and new Earth—
Love! Love!—the God-dream, that to joy gives birth.
’Tis this I know well makes the world so fair,
’Tis this which is the music all things sing—
The crocus dawn—the sunset crimsoning.
47 XXXIX
Late met we last night by the lake again
When faint for dawn I felt the dark to be ”

“ Thick-banked stood trees like pink mist in the sun,
Aloud I cried:—Thank God! The Winter’s done!
24 XVI
We must be kinder to each other, Dear,
Than others are whose love by law is blest,
Slower to wound, cavil, think ill—grieve—lest
We break the iris band that binds us near! ”

“ Who taught me lore of love, its restless woe—
Love! Love! the bitter art whose masters are
Than Spartan mothers crueller since they say—
The arms that bring you joy likewise must slay!
63 LV
Sadly I watched the dancers gayly dressed—
A silken river of frail iris sheen
O’er-fluttered by winged fans; watched heads down lean
In languor to be sweetly word caressed;
O! weary was the heart within my breast
Though ribboned light on mirrored walls such sheen
Of bright foam flung, as when flowers overlean
A river’s marge and dance at wind’s behest.
Outside within the night your lute-string trilled. ”

“ Far, far across the sweet, unreal, mist-thin
City that sleeps, you claim me yours and win
A space for us not time’s—unspotted, whole.
And always in the dawn I feel you near.
Then like souls in gray Hades we two go
Forth through the silvery silence, there to know
The things that they know not whose love’s less dear.
Be this our dwelling, this pale silent land
Where Life—a dream like day—waits our command.
29 XXI
Our love is like a Japan print, you think,
Rare mulberry-paper one, like gold that’s dead?
Foreground a garden, kiosk-canopièd
O’er moon-eyed, magic flowers of black and pink ”

“ From battlemented light the Demon, Thought;
Whose soul-garment is richest he cannot
See grief nor sorrow plainly, though unfurled
The black, tear-dyed pinions of Death’s own world
A-flutter o’er his head, of horror wrought. ”

“ While gorgeous-winged some great strange bird sweeps past
And brushes me with wings—ah! brightly vast.
The promise that Life longs for most I feel
Has flashed its gold upon me. I can keep
Only the shadow in the urns of sleep.
66 LVIII
The Spring sun has swathed us in its toga’d light.
O! why were we not born in Sybaris!
I smell Damascus roses, sharp iris,
See streets Lucanian, gay, thus by night:
Rich balconies of marble hid from sight
By tapestries and silks of Sybaris;
The peplus purpling, the bold chlamys;
Greeks ankleted in gems; while buskined bright
Soft-footed Asiatics come and go ”

“ Yet underneath this love-robe—gift of thine—
I know that you’d not sinned this sin of mine
Nor broken sacred vows as I have done;
Yet judge me not too harshly, Dear, Dear One,
Than mortal women I have been most lone,
The heart must have a home! Let that atone.
23 XV
Do you recall the day when first we met? ”

“ Her slaves have said—Beauty’s as great as Good!
36 XXVIII
You asked me why I love you. This is why,
Told in the Hebrew lore: The Mischna tells
How Abraham, a boy, his idols sells,
Then, tiring, searched for God both far and nigh.
Night came. He saw the stars strew thick the sky,
“Surely that’s God!” The moon rose with her spells.
“No, no, that’s God!” Awe from his spirit wells:
But moon and stars fade fast and night passed by.
Rich with the fervor of its sun rose day.
“I know now none has found God and none may!
The force is He behind the day and night!” ”

“ And set for us by gods at Life’s banquet,
Where we may drink and drink as Titans yet
Find always there is sweetness at the brim:
When laughter’s ringing loud, who sits there grim
And scorns the gift, the best the gods have set,
Will find it empty if he try to wet
Late at Life’s banquet board dead lips and dim.
Come, Love, I pledge you in this goodly gift!
High! high! above our heads the cup now lift!
Let’s drain it here together, you and I,
For ages that come after we’ll not sigh,
For we have bought the best with this our breath—
Alone remembered joy is safe from death.
44 XXXVI
“O! ”

“ Where white-armed little Nymphs sleep love’s deep sleep.
71 LXIII
“Scrivo sol per sfogar l’interna doglia”
Vittoria Colonna
My heart’s a wound of piteousness to-day
Because our crimson room last night was seen
The shadow of all sin since time has been—
That color that Macbeth washed not away.
Fear came between our kisses then. “Nay! nay!—
The world, how can it know our love has been?”
The moon—look!—tells it now to stars that lean
In eagerness; and they to winds that sway
The talking trees. ”

“ And all night while the music rose and fell
I felt your black curls touch me, loved them well,
Felt float across my face spice scents from south,
Felt on my lips the hot breath of your mouth,
Vineyards I saw, gold-dusted grapes in stack—
Your black, black curls flung passionately back.
51 XLIII
How ebon rich, how wondrous, is your hair! ”