Poems (Jones)/Hertha
ITHIN my room, by heat oppressed,
(All morning shades being vanished quite,)
I loitered long—a favorite guest,
Right free to idle as I might;
Yet fretted sadly, void of rest,
And in no thought could take delight.
HERTHA.
ITHIN my room, by heat oppressed,(All morning shades being vanished quite,)
I loitered long—a favorite guest,
Right free to idle as I might;
Yet fretted sadly, void of rest,
And in no thought could take delight.
"Obscure thy sun, fair August day!"
My peevish lips did sighing plead;
"Drop down the shining, silvery way,
Yon far-drawn mists from rivers freed;
Nor let the tawny eve delay—
Thou givest warmth beyond the need."
My peevish lips did sighing plead;
"Drop down the shining, silvery way,
Yon far-drawn mists from rivers freed;
Nor let the tawny eve delay—
Thou givest warmth beyond the need."
My tempted soul took up the thought:
"On some thy heart is greatly bent,
Who cold and scant returns have brought,
And thou withal hast been content;
Perchance they sigh—'O warmth unsought!
We would this noon of love were spent!'"
"On some thy heart is greatly bent,
Who cold and scant returns have brought,
And thou withal hast been content;
Perchance they sigh—'O warmth unsought!
We would this noon of love were spent!'"
The birdling, happy in his cage,
Trilled like Venetian boatman's flute;
Nor could the golden creature gauge
His tireless voice my mood to suit;
"Sweet song," I cried, "but it were sage
If now and then the bird were mute!"
Trilled like Venetian boatman's flute;
Nor could the golden creature gauge
His tireless voice my mood to suit;
"Sweet song," I cried, "but it were sage
If now and then the bird were mute!"
"Aye!" said my soul, "and do thou note
The same, lest thy belovéd sneer,
'Sweet may thy song be, but by rote
We have its round of carols clear:
It were but wise to rest the throat,
And trouble less the sated ear.'"
The same, lest thy belovéd sneer,
'Sweet may thy song be, but by rote
We have its round of carols clear:
It were but wise to rest the throat,
And trouble less the sated ear.'"
But white-browed Hertha, gentle child,
Thereat came near, and, pleading, said,
"I know where waters undefiled
Are over rocks and rushes shed;
And softest mosses near them piled,
Make dewy cushions for the head.
Thereat came near, and, pleading, said,
"I know where waters undefiled
Are over rocks and rushes shed;
And softest mosses near them piled,
Make dewy cushions for the head.
"Dear lady, through so green a nook
Your city pathways never strayed;
Then come!" so urged, her hand I took,
And walked beside the little maid,
Through odorous clover, to the brook
That did its flowery bank abrade.
Your city pathways never strayed;
Then come!" so urged, her hand I took,
And walked beside the little maid,
Through odorous clover, to the brook
That did its flowery bank abrade.
O swift and pure! half bright, half dark,
It trailed the supple willow bough;
Thence rose the grateful meadow-lark,
Singing as but the lark knows how:
I looked therein, and blushed to mark
The fretful line across my brow.
It trailed the supple willow bough;
Thence rose the grateful meadow-lark,
Singing as but the lark knows how:
I looked therein, and blushed to mark
The fretful line across my brow.
"My loving Hertha," then I sighed,
"I am ashamed of grief to-day!
Be thou my mentor as my guide;
Thy mood I'll mirror, grave or gay."
She pondered, laughed, and she replied,
"Then half yourself you'll throw away!"
"I am ashamed of grief to-day!
Be thou my mentor as my guide;
Thy mood I'll mirror, grave or gay."
She pondered, laughed, and she replied,
"Then half yourself you'll throw away!"
"Even so," quoth I, and laughed as well;
Meanwhile the brooklet at our feet
Had plunged into a cooling dell,
And under talking trees did beat:
Howbeit, though they had news to tell,
Their speech to us was obsolete.
Meanwhile the brooklet at our feet
Had plunged into a cooling dell,
And under talking trees did beat:
Howbeit, though they had news to tell,
Their speech to us was obsolete.
Despite the roughness of the way,
With childish glee we wandered down;
The scented brier would lean and sway,
And lightly pluck us by the gown;
Our steps did many a bird affray,
Our laughter many a warble drown.
With childish glee we wandered down;
The scented brier would lean and sway,
And lightly pluck us by the gown;
Our steps did many a bird affray,
Our laughter many a warble drown.
"Full densely here the boughs o'erlace,
Now let us rest," I often said;
"Here, Hertha, is the loveliest place,"—
And, "Here are cushions for the head."
She only turned a willful face,
And I, obedient, still was led.
Now let us rest," I often said;
"Here, Hertha, is the loveliest place,"—
And, "Here are cushions for the head."
She only turned a willful face,
And I, obedient, still was led.
But now a beech had turned the tide
Through spicewood bowers where followed we;
It spread its silken meshes wide,
And down a chasm went floating free.
Oh never veil of princess-bride
In broidery half so rich could be!
Through spicewood bowers where followed we;
It spread its silken meshes wide,
And down a chasm went floating free.
Oh never veil of princess-bride
In broidery half so rich could be!
There we on couches green did sink:
No burning sun might rest deny;
But like a bird that chose to drink,
One flake of light was flitting by,
And all the bubbles on the brink
Therewith did rainbows multiply.
No burning sun might rest deny;
But like a bird that chose to drink,
One flake of light was flitting by,
And all the bubbles on the brink
Therewith did rainbows multiply.
Then, after rest and reverie long,
(For who could idly prattle there?))
I spake and did the sweetness wrong,—
"Dear Hertha, life is full of care;
And we, who are not wise and strong,
Have more of grief than heart can bear.
(For who could idly prattle there?))
I spake and did the sweetness wrong,—
"Dear Hertha, life is full of care;
And we, who are not wise and strong,
Have more of grief than heart can bear.
"But if we love—are loved in turn—
How light becomes the largest weight!
Now tell me, for I fain would learn,
How shall we find such gentle fate?
Alas! for love too many yearn,
And all their days go desolate!"
How light becomes the largest weight!
Now tell me, for I fain would learn,
How shall we find such gentle fate?
Alas! for love too many yearn,
And all their days go desolate!"
No straight reply the maiden chose,
But mused: "I saw a worm to-day
That slept and fed upon a rose,
Till something prompted it to stray;
Slow creeping thence, it lost repose,
And piercing thorns were in the way!"
But mused: "I saw a worm to-day
That slept and fed upon a rose,
Till something prompted it to stray;
Slow creeping thence, it lost repose,
And piercing thorns were in the way!"
Her thought I seized: God's love being ours,
Still on a fadeless rose we feed!
We bask in light, we bathe in showers;
No softer couch our spirits need.
Thence creeping—ah we find no flowers!
But thorns are sharp and hearts must bleed.
Still on a fadeless rose we feed!
We bask in light, we bathe in showers;
No softer couch our spirits need.
Thence creeping—ah we find no flowers!
But thorns are sharp and hearts must bleed.
Within my arms the child I drew;
She kissed away my bursting tears;
"O Rose," I cried, "yet fair and new,
Though left for thorns these many years!
My heart receives thy falling dew,
My climbing soul thy beauty nears!"
She kissed away my bursting tears;
"O Rose," I cried, "yet fair and new,
Though left for thorns these many years!
My heart receives thy falling dew,
My climbing soul thy beauty nears!"