Acting.
Ah, my arms hold you fast! How can they be so bold
When my hands offer nothing of silver or gold?
Can it be that I see a new light in your eye?
Can it be that I heard then a womanly sigh?
Ah, I feel such delight, and such joy, such surprise,
That I hardly dare lift my own sight to your eyes
Ah, my arms hold you fast, and my lips touch your cheek,
And I'm crying, "Love, answer me; speak to me—speak!"
And the answer you give to my longing distress
Is that word, with a blush and a kiss, that word "Yes."
Ah, my arms hold you fast, and I burn with a fire
That nothing but long-waiting love can inspire.
Yet I know you mean nothing—mean nothing, because
It's mere acting. Ah me, I can hear the applause.
An Apache Love-Song.[[1]]
A-atana she was here.
A-atana I was dear.
She will never come again.
Chill my heart, O wind and rain.
A-atana she was here.
Hark, the wind asks "Hi-you?"
And I answer "A-coo,
Ustey with your bitter cold;
U-ga-sha, my love of old."
Still the wind asks "Hi-you?"
"Hi-you?" I know not where.
A-oo, I hardly care.
Take it to the land of snow;
Take it where the stars all go.
"Hi-you?" I do not care.
It-sau-i did it all—
It-sau-i, proud and tall.
Tell her I have gone to fight.
Ask her if her heart is light.
It-sau-i did it all.
A-atana, yesterday. Hi-you, where. A-coo, here. U's-tey, come, or bring. U'-ga-sha, go, or take. A-oo, yes. I have no authority for the spelling of these words. I rendered them phonetically from the pronunciation of a young Apache whom I hired to teach me the language. Many Apache words have no perceptible accent. A, here, has the sound of a in father.