How shall I wail, that wasn't meant for weeping? Love has run and left me, oh, what then? Dream, then, I must, who never can be sleeping; What if I should meet Love, once again? What if I met him, walking on the highway? Let him see how lightly I should care. He'd travel his way, I would follow my way; Hum a little song, and pass him there. What if at night, beneath a sky of ashes, He should seek my doorstep, pale with need? There could he lie, and dry would be my lashes; Let him stop his noise, and let me read. Oh, but I'm gay, that's better off without him; Would he'd come and see me, laughing here. Lord! Don't I know I'd have my arms about him, Crying to him, "Oh, come in, my dear!" _The Dark Girl's Rhyme_ Who was there had seen us Wouldn't bid him run? Heavy lay between us All our sires had done. There he was, a-springing Of a pious race-- Setting hags a-swinging In a market-place; Sowing turnips over Where the poppies lay; Looking past the clover, Adding up the hay; Shouting through the Spring song, Clumping down the sod; Toadying, in sing-song, To a crabbèd god. There I was, that came of Folk of mud and flame-- I that had my name of Them without a name. Up and down a mountain Streeled my silly stock; Passing by a fountain, Wringing at a rock; Devil-gotten sinners, Throwing back their heads; Fiddling for their dinners, Kissing for their beds. Not a one had seen us Wouldn't help him flee. Angry ran between us Blood of him and me. How shall I be mating Who have looked above-- Living for a hating, Dying of a love? _Epitaph_ The first time I died, I walked my ways; I followed the file of limping days. I held me tall, with my head flung up, But I dared not look on the new moon's cup. I dared not look on the sweet young rain, And between my ribs was a gleaming pain. The next time I died, they laid me deep. They spoke worn words to hallow my sleep. They tossed me petals, they wreathed me fern, They weighted me down with a marble urn. And I lie here warm, and I lie here dry, And watch the worms slip by, slip by. _Light of Love_ Joy stayed with me a night-- Young and free and fair-- And in the morning light He left me there. Then Sorrow came to stay, And lay upon my breast; He walked with me in the day, And knew me best. I'll never be a bride, Nor yet celibate, So I'm living now with Pride-- A cold bedmate. He must not hear nor see, Nor could he forgive That Sorrow still visits me Each day I live. _Wail_