And yet I staggered on, and bore my load Right gallantly: The sun, in summer-time, In lazy belts came slipping down the road To woo me on, with many a glimmering rhyme Rained from the golden rim of some fair clime, That, hovering beyond the clouds, inspired My failing heart with fancies so sublime I half forgot my path of dust and grime, Though I was growing tired. And there were many voices cheering me: I listened to sweet praises where the wind Went laughing o'er my shoulders gleefully And scattering my love-songs far behind;-- Until, at last, I thought the world so kind-- So rich in all my yearning soul desired-- So generous--so loyally inclined, I grew to love and trust it.... I was blind-- Yea, blind as I was tired! And yet one hand held me in creature-touch: And O, how fair it was, how true and strong, How it did hold my heart up like a crutch, Till, in my dreams, I joyed to walk along The toilsome way, contented with a song-- 'Twas all of earthly things I had acquired, And 'twas enough, I feigned, or right or wrong, Since, binding me to man--a mortal thong-- It stayed me, growing tired.... Yea, I had e'en resigned me to the strait Of earthly rulership--had bowed my head Acceptant of the master-mind--the great One lover--lord of all,--the perfected Kiss-comrade of my soul;--had stammering said My prayers to him;--all--all that he desired I rendered sacredly as we were wed.-- Nay--nay!--'twas but a myth I worshipped.-- And--God of love!--how tired! [Illustration: (AN OUT-WORN SAPPHO)] For, O my friends, to lose the latest grasp-- To feel the last hope slipping from its hold-- To feel the one fond hand within your clasp Fall slack, and loosen with a touch so cold Its pressure may not warm you as of old Before the light of love had thus expired-- To know your tears are worthless, though they rolled Their torrents out in molten drops of gold.-- God's pity! I am tired! And I must rest.--Yet do not say "She _died_," In speaking of me, sleeping here alone. I kiss the grassy grave I sink beside, And close mine eyes in slumber all mine own: Hereafter I shall neither sob nor moan Nor murmur one complaint;--all I desired, And failed in life to find, will now be known-- So let me dream. Good night! And on the stone Say simply: She was tired. [Illustration: (AN OUT-WORN SAPPHO--TAILPIECE)] [Illustration: (THE PASSING OF A HEART--TITLE)] THE PASSING OF A HEART O Touch me with your hands-- For pity's sake! My brow throbs ever on with such an ache As only your cool touch may take away; And so, I pray You, touch me with your hands! Touch--touch me with your hands.-- Smooth back the hair You once caressed, and kissed, and called so fair That I did dream its gold would wear alway, And lo, to-day-- O touch me with your hands!