Author: Madison Julius Cawein

---

I.

 To-night he sees their star burn, dewy-bright,
 Deep in the pansy, eve hath made for it,
 Low in the west; a placid purple lit
 At its far edge with warm auroral light:
 Love's planet hangs above a cedared height;
 And there in shadow, like gold music writ
 Of dusk's dark fingers, scale-like fire-flies flit
 Now up, now down the balmy bars of night.
 How different from that eve a year ago!
 Which was a stormy flower in the hair
 Of dolorous day, whose sombre eyes looked, blurred,
 Into night's sibyl face, and saw the woe
 Of parting near, and imaged a despair,
 As now a hope caught from a homing word.


II.

 She came unto him, as the springtime does
 Unto the land where all lies dead and cold,
 Until her rosary of days is told
 And beauty, prayer-like, blossoms where death was. 
 Nature divined her coming, yea, the dusk
 Seemed thinking of that happiness: behold,
 No cloud it had to blot its marigold
 Moon, great and golden, o'er the slopes of musk;
 Whereon earth's voice made music; leaf and stream
 Lilting the same low lullaby again,
 To coax the wind, who romped among the hills
 All day, a tired child, to sleep and dream:
 When through the moonlight of the locust-lane
 She came, as spring comes through her daffodils.


III.

 White as a lily molded of Earth's milk
 That eve the moon swam in a hyacinth sky;
 Soft in the gleaming glens the wind went by,
 Faint as a phantom clothed in unseen silk:
 Bright as a naiad's leap, from shine to shade,
 The runnel twinkled through the shaken brier;
 Above the hills one long cloud, pulsed with fire,
 Flashed like a great, enchantment-welded blade.
 And when the western sky seemed some weird land,
 And night a witching spell at whose command
 One sloping star fell green from heav'n; and deep
 The warm rose opened for the moth to sleep;
 Then she, consenting, laid her hands in his,
 And lifted up her lips for their first kiss.


IV.

 There where they part, the porch's step is strewn
 With wind-tossed petals of the purple vine;
 Athwart the porch the shadow of a pine
 Cleaves the white moonlight; and, like some calm rune
 Heaven says to Earth, shines the majestic moon;
 And now a meteor draws a lilac line
 Across the welkin, as if God would sign
 The perfect poem of this night of June.
 The wood-wind stirs the flowering chestnut-tree,
 Whose curving blossoms strew the glimmering grass
 Like crescents that wind-wrinkled waters glass;
 And, like a moonstone in a frill of flame,
 The dew-drop trembles on the peony,
 As in a lover's heart his sweetheart's name.


V.

 In after years shall she stand here again,
 In heart regretful? and with lonely sighs
 Think on that night of love, and realize
 Whose was the fault whence grew the parting pain?
 And, in her soul, persuading still in vain,
 Shall doubt take shape, and all its old surmise
 Bid darker phantoms of remorse arise
 Trailing the raiment of a dead disdain?
 Masks, unto whom shall her avowal yearn,
 With looks clairvoyant seeing how each is
 A different form, with eyes and lips that burn
 Into her heart with love's last look and kiss? 
 And, ere they pass, shall she behold them turn
 To her a face which evermore is his?


VI.

 In after years shall he remember how
 Dawn had no breeze soft as her murmured name?
 And day no sunlight that availed the same
 As her bright smile to cheer the world below?
 Nor had the conscious twilight's golds and grays
 Her soul's allurement, that was free of blame, 
 Nor dusk's gold canvas, where one star's white flame
 Shone, more bewitchment than her own sweet ways. 
 Then as the night with moonlight and perfume,
 And dew and darkness, qualifies the whole
 Dim world with glamour, shall the past with dreams 
 That were the love-theme of their lives - illume
 The present with remembered hours, whose gleams,
 Unknown to him, shall face them soul to soul?


VII.

 No! not for her and him that part; the Might
 Have-Been's sad consolation; where had bent,
 Haply, in prayer and patience penitent,
 Both, though apart, before no blown-out light.
 The otherwise of fate for them, when white
 The lilacs bloom again, and, innocent,
 Spring comes with beauty for her testament,
 Singing the praises of the day and night.
 When orchards blossom and the distant hill
 Is vague with haw-trees as a ridge with mist,
 The moon shall see him where a watch he keeps
 By her young form that lieth white and still,
 With lidded eyes and passive wrist on wrist,
 While by her side he bows himself and weeps.


VIII.

 And, oh, what pain to see the blooms appear
 Of haw and dogwood in the spring again;
 The primrose leaning with the dragging rain,
 And hill-locked orchards swarming far and near.
 To see the old fields, that her steps made dear,
 Grow green with deepening plenty of the grain,
 Yet feel how this excess of life is vain, 
 How vain to him! since she no more is here.
 What though the woodland burgeon, water flow,
 Like a rejoicing harp, beneath the boughs!
 The cat-bird and the hermit-thrush arouse
 Day with the impulsive music of their love!
 Beneath the graveyard sod she will not know,
 Nor what his heart is all too conscious of!


IX.

 How blessed is he who, gazing in the tomb,
 Can yet behold, beneath th' investing mask
 Of mockery, whose horror seems to ask
 Sphinx-riddles of the soul within the gloom, 
 Upon dead lips no dust of Love's dead bloom;
 And in dead hands no shards of Faith's rent flask;
 But Hope, who still stands at her starry task,
 Weaving the web of comfort on her loom!
 Thrice blessed! who, 'though he hear the tomb proclaim,
 How all is Death's and Life Death's other name;
 Can yet reply: "O Grave, these things are yours!
 But that is left which life indeed assures 
 Love, through whose touch I shall arise the same!
 Love, of whose self was wrought the universe!"

---

Type of Poem: Sonnet

Date Written:

Date Published:

Language: English

Keywords: Public Domain

Source: Public Domain Collection

Publisher:

Rights/Permissions: Public Domain

Comments/Notes: This poem is a deeply emotive, narrative verse that explores the themes of love, loss, and the passage of time. It is a romantic elegy that contemplates the beauty of nature as a mirror to human emotions, a common trope in Romantic poetry. The poet employs vivid and lush imagery to depict the passing seasons and the emotional journey of the lovers. The tone is introspective, melancholic, and at times, hopeful.

The structure of the poem, divided into nine parts, seems to follow the progression of a relationship from the initial stages of love to the eventual parting and subsequent reminiscing. It creates a rhythmic ebb and flow mirroring the cycles of nature and life. The poet uses the literary device of personification to animate elements of the natural world, lending them emotional depth. For instance, dusk is described as "thinking of that happiness," and the wind is portrayed as a "tired child."

Throughout the poem, the moon serves as a recurring symbol, appearing in various stages and colors, reflecting the changing emotional landscapes. The poet also employs evocative metaphors, as seen in phrases like "Love's planet" and "night a witching spell," infusing the verse with a sense of enchantment and wonder. The ending, however, takes a turn towards the philosophical, contemplating the nature of life, death, and the eternal power of love, and thus adding a profound depth to this lyrical piece.