Caroling Dusk/Noblesse Oblige

by Jessie Redmon Fauset

For works with similar titles, see Noblesse Oblige.

NOBLESSE OBLIGE

Lolotte, who attires my hair,Lost her lover. Lolotte weeps;Trails her hand before her eyes;Hangs her head and mopes and sighs,Mutters of the pangs of hell.Fills the circumambient airWith her plaints and her despair.Looks at me:“May you never know, Mam’selle,Love’s harsh cruelty.”

Love’s dart lurks in my heart too,—None may know the smartThrobbing underneath my smile. Burning, pricking all the whileThat I dance and sing and spar,Juggling words and making quipsTo hide the trembling of my lips.I must laughWhat time I moan to moon and starTo help me stand the gaff.

What a silly thing is pride!Lolotte bares her heart.Heedless that each runner readsAll her thoughts and all her needs.What I hide with my soul’s lifeLolotte tells with tear and cry.Blurs her pain with sob and sigh.Happy Lolotte, she!I must jest while sorrow’s knifeStabs in ecstasy.

“If I live, I shall outlive.”Meanwhile I am barredFrom expression of my pain.Let my heart be torn in twain,Only I may know the truth.Happy Lolotte, blessed sheWho may tell her agony!On me a seal is set.Love is lost, and—bitter ruth—Pride is with me yet!