Page:Maurine and Other Poems (1910).pdf/36

 Made answer clear-eyed Reason; “do you go And put your resolution to the test. Resolve, however nobly formed, at best Is but a still-born babe of Thought until It proves existence of its life and will By sound or action.” So when Helen came And knelt by me, her fair face all aflame With sudden blushes, whispering, “My sweet! My heart can hear the music of his feet, Go down with me to meet him,” I arose, And went with her all calmly, as one goes To look upon the dear face of the dead.

That eve I know not what I did or said. I was not cold—my manner was not strange; Perchance I talked more freely than my wont, But in my speech was naught could give affront; Yet I conveyed, as only woman can, That nameless something which bespeaks a change.

’Tis in the power of woman, if she be Whole-souled and noble, free from coquetry— Her motives all unselfish, worthy, good, To make herself and feelings understood By nameless acts, thus sparing what to man, However gently answered, causes pain, The offering of his hand and heart in vain.

She can be friendly, unrestrained, and kind Assume no airs of pride or arrogance; But in her voice, her manner, and her glance, Convey that mystic something, undefined, Which men fail not to understand and read, And, when not blind with egoism, heed. My task was harder—’twas the slow undoing Of long sweet months of unimpeded wooing. It was to hide and cover and conceal The truth, assuming what I did not feel. It was to dam love’s happy singing tide That blessed me with its hopeful, tuneful tone By feigned indiff’rence, till it turned aside And changed its channel, leaving me alone To walk parched plains, and thirst for that sweet draught My lips had tasted, but another quaffed. It could be done, for no words yet were spoken—