THE railway bore him through
An earthen cutting out from a city:
There was no scope for view,
Though the frail light shed by a slim young moon
Fell like a friendly tune.
Fell like a liquid ditty,
And the blank lack of any charm
Of landscape did no harm.
The bald steep cutting, rigid, rough,
And moon-lit, was enough
For poetry of place: its weathered face
Formed a convenient sheet whereon
The visions of his mind were drawn.
THE TWO WIVES
(SMOKER’S CLUB-STORY)
I WAITED at home all the while they were boating together—
My wife and my near neighbour’s wife:
Till there entered a woman I loved more than life,
And we sat and sat on, and beheld the uprising dark weather,
With a sense that some mischief was rife.
Tidings came that the boat had capsized, and that one of the ladies
Was drowned—which of them was unknown:
And I marvelled—my friend’s wife?—or was it my own
Who had gone in such wise to the land where the sun as the shade is?
—We learnt it was _his_ had so gone.
Then I cried in unrest: “He is free! But no good is releasing
To him as it would be to me!”
“—But it is,” said the woman I loved, quietly.
“How?” I asked her. “—Because he has long loved me too without
ceasing,
And it’s just the same thing, don’t you see.”
“I KNEW A LADY”
(CLUB SONG)
I KNEW a lady when the days
Grew long, and evenings goldened;
But I was not emboldened
By her prompt eyes and winning ways.
And when old Winter nipt the haws,
“Another’s wife I’ll be,
And then you’ll care for me,”
She said, “and think how sweet I was!”
And soon she shone as another’s wife:
As such I often met her,
And sighed, “How I regret her!
My folly cuts me like a knife!”
And then, to-day, her husband came,
And moaned, “Why did you flout her?
Well could I do without her!
For both our burdens you are to blame!”