Poems (Cook)/Song of the Rejected One
SONG OF THE REJECTED ONE.
Perchance, fair, high-born girl, yon felt ashamed Of the young, dotard-slave who dared so much;Yet, Mabel Lee, you might as well have blamed The lute for giving music at your touch.
For you had gazed on me with tenderness, When my devoted eyes made yours their shrine;And you had spoken words to thrill and bless A spirit far less rapt in dreams than mine.
Oh you should not have wondered that my soul Grew sentient with a wild and gushing tone;You roused an echo I could not control; But, ah! my heart was no cold Memnon stone.
It throbbed and burned with the undying flame Which Heaven has sent as Nature's beacon-light;I read no human language but your name, I knew no life but when within your sight.
I plied my pencil but to win your praise, I sang my Rhine-songs only for your ear;My footsteps ever followed on your ways, Seeking yon when afar—trembling when near.
Like the rich hop-vine did you grow o'er me, Most beautiful to my enchanted view;While I, poor fool! dreamt not that you could be Like that fair-seeming vine, as bitter, too.
I went on loving with unheeding zeal; Strong as a martyr, fervent as a saint.The morning and the evening saw me kneel With prayers for you-prayers neither few nor faint.
At last, beneath your favourite cedar-tree, Where summer moons had often found us both,I stammered forth that love-just as the sea May pour its might and depth in broken froth.
You laughed aloud! you laughed in scornful glee, Called me "vain boy," and bade a light farewell;That laugh, like earthquake rumble,—could it be? It came again—and my heart's city fell.
'Tis over—and you shall not hear me sigh, Nor see a shadow steal upon my face;The "vain boy" will not bow his head and die; Hope has departed—Pride must take its place.
Yet, Mabel Lee, I feel that you will cling About my future with a blighting power;And, lady, it will be a bitter thing To bear my poison drop from such a flower.
Wide seas will be between us, years will pass; But years will fail in what they often do;Time's misty breath will never dim the glass Where Passion, Truth, and Joy have mirrored you.
You've changed the "vain boy" to a grey, old man, The sapling has become a stricken tree;Yet my Life's dream will end as it began, And find its first, last love, with Mabel Lee.