Poems (Chitwood)/Elma Howard

by Mary Louisa Chitwood

ELMA HOWARD.

"Ah! how dismally the shadows
 Gather o'er the lonesome world,
And the new moon brightly breaketh
 Through the gloaming's misty gold.

"Long I've listened for the gallop
 Of his courser, down the dale,
But have only heard the bul-bul,
 And the soughing of the gale."—

Sadly whispered Elma Howard,
 With her red lips half apart,
While she locked her brown hands tightly,
 As to still her aching heart.

In her night-black locks she'd braided
 Crimson berries, bright and pure,
Saying, hopefully, yet sadly,
 "He will meet me, I am sure.

"For he said, 'My gentle Ella,
 When you see the fair new moon
Brightly marked along the azure
 Of the western sky, in June,

"'Wait you neath the dusky shadows
 Of the gum-tree, in the dell,
Where I oft have met you, Ella—
 I have something I would tell.'"

Dim and paler grew the gloaming,
 Stars and moon more softly bright,
Filling all the shadowy hollows
 With a calm and steady light;

But alone stood Elma Howard,
 With a strangely troubled heart,
Saying, "He is far above me,
 Fate will set our lives apart.

"For his name is very noble,
 And he can not count his gold;
Why should I be here to meet him?"
 And she shuddered as with cold.

'Neath white lids the dark eyes sheltered,
 That the tear-drops might not fall,;
Then she murmured, "It were better
 We had never met at all.

"Better I had never listened
 To the music of his tone"———
Swept a courser down the valley—
 Elma stood no more alone.

By her side stood Albert Lacy,
 Gently took her by the hand,
And he thought her in the twilight
 Fairest maiden in the land.

But his soft blue eyes were dreamy,
 And his smile no sunshine had,
And he sighed as one aweary,
 For his heart was very sad.

In his face looked Elma Howard,
 With a glance half love, half fear,
In her thought no ancient story
 Told of such a cavalier.

"I am late, my gentle Ella,
 See, the moon is going down,
And the dew upon your tresses
 Sparkles brightly as a crown.

"Sit beside me in the shadow,
 For I can not bear the light,
I have something I must tell you,
 Though my heart should break to-night."

Paused he then, as though to gather,
 In the solemn silence, strength
For the framing of his story;
 But his voice she heard at length.

And her heart grew strangely silent
 In the meshes Love had set,
As a bird that does not struggle
 Any longer in the net.

"Elma," said he, very sadly,
 "In a city, far away,
Dwells a fair and gentle lady,
 Lovelier than my words can say.

"She has tresses like the sunbeams,
 And her voice is sweet and low,
And her eyes arc blue as sapphire,
 And her cheeks are like the snow.

"But she smiles when I am coming,
 And her white check flushes red;
Elma, years we have been plighted,
 And to-morrow we shall wed.

"But my heart is grieved, dear Ella,
 That your face no more I'll see,
For I can not tell how precious
 You have ever been to me.

Very still was Elma Howard,
 Lip and cheek no more were red,
But her features in the moonlight
 Were as snowy as the dead.

And she heard as one a-dreaming
 Breezes whisper and depart,
And the streamlet's waters singing,
 Like an overflowing heart.

"Ella," whispered Albert Lacy,
 In a pleading voice and low,
"Have you not a word to offer,
 Not a smile, before I go?

"Nevermore, beneath these shadows,
 In the evening we shall meet."
"Albert Lacy," said the maiden,
 And her tones were music-sweet,

"You are very rich and noble,
 I am humble as a flower,
And the hour I chanced to meet you
 Was a sad and fated hour.

"Once I walked along the meadow,
 When the Summer pinks were there,
And my footfalls chanced to startle
 From its hiding-place a hare.

"Lightly down the path it bounded,
 Pausing oft and looking back,
And the frailest buds of clover
 Scarcely bent beneath its track.

"But a wound was in its bosom
 Ere it reached the hedgeing low,
And it turned its eyes upon me,
 Mutely telling of its woe.

"Soon I looked upon a hunter
 Idly leaning on his gun,
And he cared not for the anguish
 That his random shot had done.

"But my eyes with tears were blinded,
 And I sighed, Alas! alas!
As I traced it by the dropping
 Of its blood upon the grass—

"While the hunter marked the soaring
 Of an eaglet in the sky.
Caring nothing for the valley
 Where the hare crept on to die.

"Shyly gazed I then upon you,
 Half in love and half in hate,
Little knowing I was walking
 On the borders of my fate.

"Had your shot but torn my bosom,
 In that quiet summer's day
It had been less coldly cruel
 Than to torture life away."

"Ella Howard! Ella Howard!"
 Knelt he in the moonlight there,
"Do not put such cross upon me,
 It is more than I can bear.

"I have pushed the future from me;
 Do not look upon me so,
I have lingered in your presence,
 For I could not bear to go.

"'Tis my fate that bears me from you,
 Oh, believe me, 'tis not pride,
And a strange wild love has charmed me,
 That I could not leave your side.

"But I lingered, fascinated,
 Elma, as I linger now,
But the future! Oh the future!
 I can never break my vow."

"Leave me, Albert, not in anger,
 Not in coldness do we part;
Go, in mercy, it were better
 I had looked not in your heart.

Pressed his lips upon her forehead,
 Looked she on his face so pale;
Then she listened to the gallop
 Of a steed adown the vale.

Years have passed since Elma Howard
 Heard the whispered last good-bye;
In that first dark hour of sorrow,
 She had almost prayed to die.

But she calmly took the burden
 Of her life-cross up again,
Saying softly, "It will cheer me,
 That I did not love in vain.

"As a rose whose only blossom
 Droppeth suddenly away,
Has the love-bloom from my spirit
 Fallen silently this day.

"Ah, my hopes were ever fettered,
 And my wants were ever small,
But the future gives no promise
 Of the sweetest of them all.

"Out upon the troubled waters,
 Faith went flying like a dove,
Bringing only to my waiting
 Withered blossomings of love.

"Yet forgive me, O my Father,
 It was sinful to complain,
And my earth-love has been worship,
 Let me heavenward look again."

Went the Summer and the Winter,
 And the Spring-time softly fair,
And the heart of Ella Howard
 Was uplifted by her prayer.

By the gloomy couch of sorrow,
 In the death-hour, like a saint,
Was she found, this earthly angel,
 Giving hope-words to the faint.

And her face grew bright with beauty,
 Most divinely meek and fair,
As her pure soul climbed the ladder
 To the atmosphere of prayer.

And the friends who were about her,
 Those to whom her love was dear,
Whispered to themselves, "Our sister
 Is too good to linger here.

"For her heart is love's pure temple,
 Where the angels enter in,
And its light should not be darkened
 By the shadowings of sin."

But they knew not how she wrestled,
 With the thoughts that upward rose
From the grave where love was sadly
 Coffined down to his repose.

How one memory, like a phantom,
 Would not always silence keep,
How one name was sometimes whispered
 Very softly in her sleep.

Went the Summer and the Winter,
 And the Spring-time's rosy May,
Came the Summer and the Winter,
 Till ten years had passed away.

Then beneath the turf they laid her,
 'Mid the fading Autumn bowers,
While her spirit had pressed upward
 Like the fragrance of the flowers.