And shapes long vanished whither vanish all.
“‘O why, Love, nightly, daily,’
I had said,
‘Dost sigh, and smile so palely,
As if shed
Were all Life’s blossoms, all its dear things dead?’
“‘Since silence sets thee grieving,’
He replied,
‘And I abhor deceiving
One so tried,
Why, Love, I’ll speak, ere time us twain divide.’
“He held me, I remember,
Just as when
Our life was June – (September
It was then);
And we walked on, until he spoke again.
“‘Susie, an Irish mummer,
Loud-acclaimed
Through the gay London summer,
Was I; named
A master in my art, who would be famed.
“‘But lo, there beamed before me
Lady Su;
God’s altar-vow she swore me
When none knew,
And for her sake I bade the sock adieu.
“‘My Lord your father’s pardon
Thus I won:
He let his heart unharden
Towards his son,
And honourably condoned what we had done;
“‘But said – recall you, dearest? —
As for Su,
I’d see her – ay, though nearest
Me unto—
Sooner entombed than in a stage purlieu!
“‘Just so. – And here he housed us,
In this nook,
Where Love like balm has drowsed us:
Robin, rook,
Our chief familiars, next to string and book.
“‘Our days here, peace-enshrouded,
Followed strange
The old stage-joyance, crowded,
Rich in range;
But never did my soul desire a change,
“‘Till now, when far uncertain
Lips of yore
Call, call me to the curtain,
There once more,
But once, to tread the boards I trod before.
“‘A night – the last and single
Ere I die —
To face the lights, to mingle
As did I
Once in the game, and rivet every eye!’
“Such was his wish. He feared it,
Feared it though
Rare memories endeared it.
I, also,
Feared it still more; its outcome who could know?
“‘Alas, my Love,’ said I then,
‘Since it be
A wish so mastering, why, then,
E’en go ye! —
Despite your pledge to father and to me.. ’
“’Twas fixed; no more was spoken
Thereupon;
Our silences were broken
Only on
The petty items of his needs were gone.
“Farewell he bade me, pleading
That it meant
So little, thus conceding
To his bent;
And then, as one constrained to go, he went.
“Thwart thoughts I let deride me,
As, ’twere vain
To hope him back beside me
Ever again:
Could one plunge make a waxing passion wane?
“I thought, ‘Some wild stage-woman,
Honour-wrecked.. ’