  Spring's face is wreathed in smiles. She had been driven Hither and thither at the surly will Of treacherous winds till her sweet heart was chill. Into her grasp the sceptre has been given And now she touches with a proud young hand The earth, and turns to blossoms all the land. We catch the smile, the joyousness, the pride, And share them with her. Surely winter gloom Is for the old, and frost is for the tomb. Youth must have pleasure, and the tremulous tide Of Summer's noontide splendor of desire. I have forgotten,—for the breath of buds Is on my temples, if in former days I have known sorrow; I remember praise, And calm content, and joy's great ocean-floods, And many dreams so sweet that, in their place, We would not welcome even Truth's fair face. O Man to whom my heart hast leaned, dost know Aught of my life? Sometimes a strong despair Enters my soul and finds a lodging there; Thou dost not know me, and the years will go As these last months have gone, and I shall be Still far, still a strange woman unto thee. I do not blame thee. If there is a fault Let it be mine, for surely had I tried The door of my heart's home to open wide No need had been for even Love's assault. And yet, methinks, somewhere there is a key Thou mightest have found, and entered happily. I am no saint niched in a hallowed wall For men to worship, but I would compel A level gaze. You teachers who would tell A woman's place I do defy you all! While justice lives, and love with joy is crowned Woman and man must meet on equal ground. The deepest wrong is falsehood. She who sells Her soul and body for a little gain In ease, or the world's notice, has a stain Upon her soul no lighter for the bells Who gives her all for love's sad ecstasy. Canst thou not understand a nature strong And passionate, with impulses that sway, With yearning tenderness that must have way, Yet knows no ill desire, no touch of wrong? If thou canst not then in God's name I pray See me no more forever from this day. |
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