Page:Maurine and Other Poems (1910).pdf/17

 And make it serve the purposes of men, Guided by common-sense and reason. Then We’ll hear no more of séance, table-rapping, And all that trash, o’er which the world is gaping, Lost in effect, while science seeks the cause.

Vivian was not conscious of his power: Or, if he was, knew not its full extent. He knew his glance would make a wild beast cower, And yet he knew not that his large eyes sent Into the heart of woman the same thrill That made the lion servant of his will. And even strong men felt it.

He arose, Reached forth his hand, and in it clasped my own, While I held Helen’s; and he spoke some word Of pleasant greeting in his low, round tone, Unlike all other voices I have heard. Just as the white cloud, at the sunrise, glows With roseate colours, so the pallid hue Of Helen’s cheek, like tinted sea-shells grew. Through mine, his hand caused hers to tremble; such Was the all-mast’ring magic of his touch. Then we sat down, and talked about the weather, The neighbourhood—some author’s last new book. But, when I could, I left the two together To make acquaintance, saying I must look After the chickens—my especial care; And ran away and left them, laughing, there.

Knee-deep, through clover, to the poplar grove, I waded, where my pets were wont to rove: And there I found the foolish mother hen Brooding her chickens underneath a tree, An easy prey for foxes. “Chick-a-dee,” Quoth I, while reaching for the downy things That, chirping, peeped from out the mother-wings, “How very human is your folly! When There waits a haven, pleasant, bright, and warm, And one to lead you thither from the storm And lurking dangers, yet you turn away, And, thinking to be your own protector, stray Into the open jaws of death: for, see! An owl is sitting in this very tree You thought safe shelter. Go now to your pen.”