Page:The Collected Poems of Dora Sigerson Shorter.djvu/167

148 The wife looked up to her husband's face, And once more saw there the manly grace That won her love when her heart was young (Ah I 'twas the past that the violon sung); And he looked back and saw once more The faded cheek was as fresh as of yore; Out from his eyes beamed the old love-light, And taking her hand, he pressed it tight The violon's song all sweet did soar— A mother cried for the babe she bore, And stretching her empty arms out wide, She felt no longer her wish denied; The downy head lay upon her breast, The tiny hands her pale cheek caressed. To her lonely heart joy and comfort fell From those wordless lips that can plead so well. The violon's song rang loud and clear: They saw a garden all fair appear. Perfumed with roses and blossoms white. Lifting their heads to the sun's hot light. A statue stood there amidst them all— A cry of wonder went down the hall— For at its base, kneeling all alone, Pressing warm lips to me feet of stone, Raising soft hands to the face above, A maiden was breathing her soul in love. Gold-hearted lilies and roses sweet She culled and laid at the statue's feet, But touching the stone each flower would die. The maid arose with a mournful cry. And glanced in fear round the garden fair: It was weeds and thorns that flourished there. “O love,” she cried, “I am sore afraid— The night has come and my blossoms fade.” Raising her arms to the stony face. The statue fell at her slight embrace; Down at her feet her idol lay— An empty shell was this broken clay. Amidst the fragments she sought to find