My old friend Gershom has very slyly written a rondeau to me. I have just found it enclosed in my Golden Treasury, which he handed back to me that last night at Casa Grande. It’s the first actual rondeau I ever had indited to my humble self, and while I’m a bit set up about it, I can’t quite detach from Gershom’s lines a vaguely obituarial atmosphere which tends to depress me. I can see that it may not be the best rondeau in the world, but I’m going to keep it until my bones are dust, for good old Gershom’s sake. And some day, when he marries the nice girl he deserves to marry, and has a kiddy or two of his own, I’ll shame his gray hairs by parading it before his offspring! I have just been re-reading the lines, in Gershom’s copperplate script. They are as follows: | To C. McK. On Returning Her Copy of the Golden Treasury
This golden book, dear friend, wherein each line
Holds close a charm for knowing eyes to meet,
Holds doubly mystical and doubly sweet
An inner charm no language may define:
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For o’er each page a woman’s soul divine
Bent low a space for kindred souls to greet,
And here her eyes were lit with gladness fleet
Because of songs that graced with rare design
This book of thine!
And now I give back into Beauty’s hand
Her borrowed songs, but I shall hold always
Secret and safe from every care’s demand,
A flame of light to fill my emptier days,
That quieter fellowship, which made a shrine
This book of thine!
G. B. |
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