But woman’s gamble--(there’s only one: And it takes some pluck to play, When the rules are broke ere the game’s begun; When, lose _or_ win, you must pay!)-- Is a double wager on human kind, A limitless risk--and she goes it blind. For she stakes, at love, on a single throw, Pride, Honour, Scruples and Fears, And dreams no lover can hope to know, And the gold of the after-years. (And all for a man; and there’s no man lives Who is worth the odds that a woman gives.) So that since you hazarded this for me On the day love’s die was cast, I’ll love you--gambler!--while “fours” beat three; And I’ll lay on our love to last, So long as a man will wager a price On a horse or a card or the ball or the dice. _NINON AND ROSES_ Here, in a land where hardly a rose is, Silkiest blossoms of broidered flowers Brush my cheek as each tired eye closes, Haunt my sleep through the desolate hours. Roses never of nature’s making, Roses loved for a rose-red night, Roses visioned at dawn-light’s breaking Veiling a bosom as roses white! Why does the ghost of you linger and stay with me-- Ghost of the rose-buds that perfumed our bed, Ghost of a rose-girl who blossomed to play with me-- Here in a land where the roses are dead? Day-time and night-time the death-flower blazes, Saffron at gun-lip and orange and red, Here where June’s rose-tree lies shattered as May’s is, Here where I dream of the nights that are dead-- Nights that were sweet with the scent and the touch of you, Rose-girl in ninon with buds at your breast, Rose-girl who promised and granted so much of you, All that was tender and all that was best. Growl of the guns cannot shatter the dream of you, Banish the thought of one exquisite hour, Or the scent of your hair in the dawn, or the gleam of you White as white roses through roses a-flower. _PARTING_ Times more than once, all ways about the world, Have I clasped hands; waved sorrowful good-bye; Watched far cliffs fading, till my sea-wake swirled To mingle bluely with a landless sky: Then--even as the sea-drowned cliffs behind-- Felt sorrow drowning into memory; And heard, in every thrill of every wind, New voices welcoming across the sea. Until it seemed nor land nor love had power To hold my heart in any firm duress: Grieving, I sorrowed but a little hour; Loving, I knew desire’s sure faithfulness: Until, by many a love dissatisfied, Of each mistrustful and to each untrue, I found--as one who, having long denied, Finds faith at last--this greater Love, in you.