y thee hail!

When Love Passed By

I dreamt of love in the golden glory
Of youth unshadowed by cloud or care;
Steeped in the love-lore of song and story,
I said, "My Love shall be wondrous fair."

I said, "Her hands shall be filled with flowers,
(My heart shall tell me when Love draws nigh!)
She shall steal sweet boon from the graceless hours,
Her eyes shall be blue as the cerule sky.

"Her hair shall be bright as the stars' gold gleaming,
Her lips shall be red with her heart's rich wine,
Her face shall be fair as my fondest dreaming,
Each pulse of my being shall call her mine!"

Then long for the voice of my heart I harkened,
Tranced in love's hoping--all hope else forgot--
I waited lonely; the daylight darkened,
The twilight deepened--but love came not.

Then One passed by in the dusking shadows,
The night's dusk shadows slept on her hair--
She passed like a gleam o'er the dew-drenched meadows,
And my heart throbbed fast--but she was not fair.

Her face was pale and her dark eyes pleading,
Her smile was wistful and gravely sweet;
She passed me by where I stood unheeding,
And dropped a violet at my feet.

She went her way o'er the silent meadows,
(Ah, traitorous heart that you tricked me so!)
I sat alone in the deepening shadows--
Love had passed by--and I did not know.

Hedonism

Since we must sleep the endless Sleep at last,
Since Life's grim juggernaut 'neath ruthless wheels
Crushes the heart; since Age like Winter steals
On Youth's fair-flowered fields with blighting blast--
Then to the gods our doubts and fears be cast!
Enough of Sorrow! Joyance is our due.
Gather the roses! Spurn th' envenomed rue.
Fling to the waiting winds the pallid past.
Steep thee in mellow moods and dear desires;
Pluck Love's flame-hearted flower ere it dies;
Cull nectared kisses sweet as morning's breath,
Warm Chastity at Passion's purple fires;
Nepenthe quaff--till drained the chalice lies.
After ... the shrouded sleep, the dreamless dark of Death.

* * * * *

Euthumism

If in the spirit glows no spark divine;
If soulless dust return to dust again;
If, after life, but death and dark remain--
Then it were well to make the moment thine,
Bacchante-steeping soul and sense in wine,
In lotus-lulling languors, fond desires
That heat the heart with fierce, unhallowed fires--
Till Pleasure, Circe-like, transform us into swine.
But if some subtler spirit thrill ou