Page:Maurine and Other Poems (1910).pdf/7

 Your statements usually hold more or less. Some women write weak letters—(some men do;) Some make professions, knowing them untrue. And woman’s friendship, in the time of need, I own, too often proves a broken reed. But I believe, and ever will contend, Woman can be a sister woman’s friend, Giving from out her large heart’s bounteous store A living love—claiming to do no more Than, through and by that love, she knows she can: And living by her professions, like a man. And such a tie, true friendship’s silken tether, Binds Helen Trevor’s heart and mine together. I love her for her beauty, meekness, grace; For her white lily soul and angel face. She loves me, for my greater strength, maybe; Loves—and would give her heart’s best blood for me. And I, to save her from a pain, or cross, Would suffer any sacrifice or loss. Such can be woman’s friendship for another. Could man give more, or ask more from a brother?”

I paused: and Vivian leaned his massive head Against the pillar of the portico, Smiled his slow, sceptic smile, then laughed, and said: “Nay, surely not—if what you say be so. You’ve made a statement, but no proof’s at hand. Wait—do not flash your eyes so! Understand I think you quite sincere in what you say: You love your friend, and she loves you, to-day; But friendship is not friendship at the best Till circumstances put it to the test. Man’s, less demonstrative, stands strain and tear, While woman’s, half profession, fails to wear. Two women love each other passing well— Say Helen Trevor and Maurine La Pelle, Just for example. Let them daily meet At ball and concert, in the church and street, They kiss and coo, they visit, chat, caress; Their love increases, rather than grows less; And all goes well, till ‘Helen dear’ discovers That ‘Maurine darling’ wins too many lovers.

And then her ‘precious friend,’ her ‘pet,’ her ‘sweet,’ Becomes a ‘minx,’ a ‘creature all deceit.’