ONE--dropped from her breast
As she passed along,
Like a fluttering bird from a nest,
Or the final note of a song--
One--as fragile and fair
As the woman herself, I swear!
With the light of a thousand sunbeams caught in the waves of her
golden hair!
One--white as the snow--
It fell at her feet,
When her laughter, clear and low,
Replied to the fervid heat
Of my love-words wild and vain,
And my heart grew numb with pain
As her mirthful mockery crushed my heart, and maddened my foolish
brain.
Farewell to my dream!
I should have known
That however fair she may seem,
Her heart is as cold as stone,
A mirror of social vice,
A sparkling nugget of ice,
Valued at “so much” or more, and ready for sale at its market price!
A “society star?”
Yes, that is true:
She is proud; such women are;
Yet perhaps she will smile on rule!
Your turn will come, maybe:
Who knows? perchance you will see
The lying glances, the treacherous smiles she lately lavished on me.
If so, you can say
You met me to-night:
Tell her I went my way
Despising her trumpery slight:
Man, after all, is king--
He can laugh at the little sting
Of a woman’s scorn, when the woman herself is so poor and low a thing.
One rose!--it will fade
Ere an hour be past--
Such hothouse blossoms are only made,
Like women--to wither fast--
Its leaves will upcurl and die
In an odorous silent sigh,
And only its little ghost will speak of my transient love gone by.
One rose--it is mine
To keep for a while--
I fancy it will not greatly pine
For the loss of her ladyship’s smile--
By a cluster of diamonds prest,
’Twas slain on her chilly breast;
Together we’ll go, the rose and I--we both have need of rest!