And so, when all the time had leaked, Without external sound, Each bound the other's Crucifix - We gave no other bond - Sufficient troth - that we shall _rise_, Deposed - at length the Grave - To that new marriage - _Justified_ - through Calvaries - of Love! From the handwriting, it is not always clear which are dashes, which are commas and which are periods, nor it is entirely clear which initial letters are capitalized. However, this transcription may be compared with the edited version in the main text to get a flavor of the changes made in these early editions. ---JT This is my letter to the world, That never wrote to me, -- The simple news that Nature told, With tender majesty. Her message is committed To hands I cannot see; For love of her, sweet countrymen, Judge tenderly of me! I. LIFE. I. SUCCESS. [Published in "A Masque of Poets" at the request of "H.H.," the author's fellow-townswoman and friend.] Success is counted sweetest By those who ne'er succeed. To comprehend a nectar Requires sorest need. Not one of all the purple host Who took the flag to-day Can tell the definition, So clear, of victory, As he, defeated, dying, On whose forbidden ear The distant strains of triumph Break, agonized and clear! II. Our share of night to bear, Our share of morning, Our blank in bliss to fill, Our blank in scorning. Here a star, and there a star, Some lose their way. Here a mist, and there a mist, Afterwards -- day! III. ROUGE ET NOIR. Soul, wilt thou toss again? By just such a hazard Hundreds have lost, indeed, But tens have won an all. Angels' breathless ballot Lingers to record thee; Imps in eager caucus Raffle for my soul. IV. ROUGE GAGNE. 'T is so much joy! 'T is so much joy! If I should fail, what poverty! And yet, as poor as I Have ventured all upon a throw; Have gained! Yes! Hesitated so This side the victory! Life is but life, and death but death! Bliss is but bliss, and breath but breath! And if, indeed, I fail, At least to know the worst is sweet. Defeat means nothing but defeat, No drearier can prevail! And if I gain, -- oh, gun at sea, Oh, bells that in the steeples be, At first repeat it slow! For heaven is a different thing Conjectured, and waked sudden in, And might o'erwhelm me so! V. Glee! The great storm is over! Four have recovered the land; Forty gone down together Into the boiling sand. Ring, for the scant salvation! Toll, for the bonnie souls, -- Neighbor and friend and bridegroom, Spinning upon the shoals! How they will tell the shipwreck When winter shakes the door, Till the children ask, "But the forty? Did they come back no more?" Then a silence suffuses the story, And a softness the teller's eye; And the children no further question, And only the waves reply. VI.