Poems (White)/Gwendolyn Gay

by Jeannie Copes White

GWENDOLYN GAY

Fair Gwendolyn Gay, one summer's day,
All bright and fresh as a May flower,
Was galloping on her laughing way,
The length of her thoroughbred's power.
A sport maid was she, Gwendolyn Gay,
With a daring and spirit of man,
Without one to prevent or say nay.
She stopped not, but onward she ran.
One day, she was riding on to see
Where the fairest of flowers could lay,
With her groom in the rear a degree—
As the custom and habit they may.
They had passed by a horseman so bold,
In the slope where the two rivers meet;
One was rushing with white fringe on gold,
One was melting in green and blue heat.
Such a vision as did flash on his sight?
He, in happy surprise, jerked the bit,
More to gaze upon one fair and bright.
His mare's spirit was wounded, to wit,
Head uplifted, and ears raised to know
This treatment, so rough to her, show?
Quivering tense, as was tightened her goad,
She sprung wild, and her young rider threw.
All so quickly, in truth, was this done
That my words are too many and small
To tell you. They just come one by one.
It doesn't take long for horses to fall.
Our maid in alarm quickly looked back;
She but felt, somehow, something was wrong.
Where she was, she had heard the whip crack.
Her assistance to give was not long.
The young man was down there, like one dead,—
The mare had run wild, off in the dust,—
With a hand on his whip, and his head.
To obtain help for him now she must.
With her groom she had lifted him soon,
Placed upon her slick, shining, still beast;
Then she mounted the horse of the groom,
Well, soon homeward they went to the east.
Now, fair child, is your heart beating wild,
As you gaze on his unconscious face?
This young man, with a cheek of a child,
No more guile, nor of sin, can you trace;
So quite gently your burden you bear.
To safe refuge of sire's lordly place.
You feel well, as in brushing his hair,
That you ne'er did see a finer face.
It was bold, free, yet pleasant to see,
That a maid could not see without thought
That somehow he is what men should be.
No maid could resist such, if he sought?
The white curtain o'er his flashing eye,
Black velvet fringe, all drooping the edge,
Drew up now, thus disclosing where lie
A deep fathomless longing, a pledge.
His heart, leaping up, bounded with joy,
As it sprung with glad challenge in eyes;
Hers responded quite soon to this boy,
Quickly fluttered with love's sweet surprise.
'Twas great love at first sight, for the two.
God planned all, in His wondrous way,
Such love, that is but blessed to a few;
And how gloriously happy are they!
The proud father soon gave his consent
He should marry his beautiful girl.
So off on a long journey he went,
Gathering up fairest robes for his pearl.
When the wedding day was very near
A long letter the father received,
The bridegroom, it seemed, they could hear,
Had a wife, a divorce gave, to leave.
Then forth to this young man was it brought,
The letter, with such terrible news.
The truth from his lips her father sought,
To know how such foul scandal he views.
"'Tis the truth," then the young man replied,
"And my sorrow is great, and sore grief,
That at college the hard knot was tied,—
Just a boy, and I soon sought relief.
She was ten years my senior, and then
She clawed at my heart—was softest clay.
I learned too late of her worth, just when
My son was born, but ere that sad day
I had tired of her long, but for this:—
To be faithful I vowed, for my boy.
'Twas no use; no caress, mother's kiss,
Did she give to her child in great joy.
My baby was soon placed in the care
Of my mother, whose heart gave to him
What his mother denied him, to spare
All her time in fast life, thus to swim.
When her child was a few short months old,
With another man she ran away.—
That's my history, true as 'tis told,
Of a boy seventeen, and a day.
"My dear daughter shall not marry you;
No divorced man shall wed my fair child;
Not one shadow like this on the true,
Shall so follow her, tender and mild."
But sweet Gwendolyn, when she had heard
Of her lover's sad history, knew
That, however her mind thought the word
Her father had said, she only grew
More in love with this heart of a man.
Now to her he was not a mere boy;
His love now would be firmer far than
If no grief had not heightened his joy.
She was true to her lover, and held;
Not an inch would withdraw of her love.
Furthermore, to all others compelled
All the homage to him, far above
Hitherto they had given to him,
For she said that in passing thus through
Such great sacrifice of his fair youth,
That much greater to prize him she knew,
And she gave him a bountiful truth.
So the wedding came on far too soon;
The groom garbed like dark night with white stars,
The bride like the pale silvery moon.
Not a fairer pair gave to the cause
Of true love with a dutiful life:
He to honor and cherish and love,
She to be a true, faithful, good wife.
They went on a long honeymoon gay,
Traveling far to the " land of the sky."
When returned from their trip, glad were they.
She had claimed his young son, who was shy.
She told him his mother had now come
To love him and care for him; how
She had wished all the time that at some
Day his love to her he would allow.
Then he yielded his love to the call
Of her mother heart, beating for him.
He just hugged her and kissed her for all
Those few years he had missed her within.
So he bade his dear grandma good-by:
"I will come back to see you sometime."
He was glad, so no longer was shy;
He was proud with a joy most sublime.
But the train to their home town they took,
It was wrecked on a bridge, coming back;
The cars from their safe bearings forsook,
Swung away, and then twisted the track.
And when all was once quiet again,
Those alive went in search for the dead.
He found her, was so silently lain
On the ground, with her beautiful head
Held closely in his son's chubby arms.
He was calling her loudly to wake.
His young voice was quite shrill with alarms,
Trying all his small best, just to make
Her notice, and see he wanted her.
"Try to open your eyes, and do look
Back at me." He cared not to incur
Her reproof; for such he could not brook,—
A mere glance from her eyes not of love,
From his newly found mother to be!
But poor child, he must now look above
For the answer his call there to see.
Father heard him call: "Mother dear, wake,
For our train has just emptied us out."
But no answer he had; he did take
A tone louder, and then he would shout.
Thus the bride from the wedding trip came,
Our own sweet, our own fair Mistress Gay.
In her coffin they fixed her the same
As a bride. She was fair where she lay.
Ah! so sad was the well furnished home,
All prepared the sweet bride to receive.
Now 'twas darkened, for ne'er will she roam,
From the light up above will she leave.
The day when they laid her away
She looked fresh in her gay bridal shroud;
Her young husband crept out in the gray;
By her side, in his grief he thus bowed.
Every night he would creep from the house,
And lie down by the side of his wife,
Just as softly, and still as a mouse,
For to her he had promised his life.
His young son one fierce, cold winter night
Had aroused from his bed, went to see
If permission from father he might
Go to hunt for a green Christmas tree.
And not finding his father in bed,
He but followed along in his trail.
Upon finding him, homeward he led,
Quickly on, with a pitiful wail.
Just as they stepped within the front door,
The child glanced up above to the sky:
"Look up, Father; there mother is sure,
Asking you what's the reason, and why
You should cling to her grave in the earth,
While she's waiting in heaven for you,
A home that is of far greater worth.
Your true love for her always she knew."
And just as his poor father looked up,
He saw o'er the dark heavens there swung
A bright meteor's brimming full cup,
Upside down, spilling milk as it hung,
Like a bride trailing on far behind,
Her frail, misty, soft veil of fine tulle;
With the rarest of silk it was lined,
A full radiant vision to fool
A mere child, full of images rare.
But a lesson the father then learned:
To be true to his fairest of fair.
He looked up, and below the ground spurned.
When at last the boy grew to a man,
Her good father was living with them.
One bright morning, as day just began,
The paper was handed; the news then
The boy read aloud to them both,
As the three at their breakfast did chat,
Of a woman for whom we should loath,
A poor miserable creature at that.
How she'd married a youth in his teens,
And left him at the birth of her boy.
She had gone down and down, by such means,
For the sins of the earth to enjoy.
And now as this true story begun,
She was dead, worth a million or more,
Which she left to her one unknown son,
Who was living somewhere on the earth.
To find him, and to place in his care
This her wealth, for leaving him so,
May it pay back to him but the share,
For a mother from her babe to go.
When he finished the paper he threw.
"I am glad she's no mother of mine;
I am proud a good mother to know,
All this money's a life that has lied."
So off to his own room he did stride,
And returned with a photograph true
Of sweet Gwendolyn as a fair bride.
"Father, one's proud of parents like you."
The train to the said city that day
Took the father and grandfather, too,
Just a word to those lawyers to say,
For the death of that boy was quite true.
He had died of neglect, just the same,
For the want of a good mother's care;
So the money that goes to his name
Must be left for the orphans to share.