Page:The complete poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar.pdf/75

 I saw how I could save him pain. And so, with all my day grown dim,
 * That this loved brother's sun might shine,
 * I joined his suit, gave over mine,

And sought Ione, to plead for him.

I found her in an eastern bower,
 * Where all day long the am'rous sun

Lay by to woo a timid flower.
 * This day his course was well-nigh run,
 * But still with lingering art he spun

Gold fancies on the shadowed wall.
 * The vines waved soft and green above,
 * And there where one might tell his love,

I told my griefs—I told her all!

I told her all, and as she hearkened,
 * A tear-drop fell upon her dress.

With grief her flushing brow was darkened;
 * One sob that she could not repress
 * Betrayed the depths of her distress.

Upon her grief my sorrow fed,
 * And I was bowed with unlived years,
 * My heart swelled with a sea of tears,

The tears my manhood could not shed.

The world is Rome, and Fate is Nero,
 * Disporting in the hour of doom.

God made us men; times make the hero—
 * But in that awful space of gloom
 * I gave no thought but sorrow's room.

All—all was dim within that bower,
 * What time the sun divorced the day;
 * And all the shadows, glooming gray,

Proclaimed the sadness of the hour.

She could not speak—no word was needed;
 * Her look, half strength and half despair,

Told me I had not vainly pleaded,
 * That she would not ignore my prayer.
 * And so she turned and left me there,

And as she went, so passed my bliss;
 * She loved me, I could not mistake—