Yes.
The Maiden.
Madam, then with you
I needs must ride.—I pray you take my share
Of payment; it were more than I could bear
To be indebted to you.
The Lady.
Nay—the sum
Was but a trifle.
(Aside.) Now forgive me, truth.
But was it not a trifle to such wealth—
Such wealth as mine?
(Speaks.) Heard you that distant drum
Borne on the wind a moment? Ah! our youth
Is thrilled with the great pulses of this war.
How fast we live—how full each crowded hour
Of hot excitements! Naught is done by stealth,
The little secrecies of other days
Thrown to the winds; the clang and charge afar
On the red battle-field, the news that sways
Now to, now fro, ’twixt victory and defeat;
The distant cry of “Extra!” down the street
In the gray dawnings, and our breathless haste
To read the tidings—all this mighty power
Hath burned in flame the day of little things,
Curled like a scroll—and now we face the kings,
The terrible, the glorious gods of war.
—The maid forgets her shyness; wherefore waste
One moment when the next may call him forth
Ne’er to return to her? The dear old North
May take her lover—but he shall not go
With lips unkissed to meet his Southern foe;
Her last embrace will cheer him on his round
Now back, now forth, over the frozen ground
Through the long night.
—And when the hasty word
“Only one day; be ready, love,” is heard,
The soft consent is instant, and there swells
Amid the cannonade faint wedding-bells
From distant village; then, as swift away
The soldier bridegroom rides—he may not stay.
And she?—She would not keep him, though the tears
Blind her sweet eyes that follow him, and fears
Crowd her faint heart and take away her breath,
As on her white robe falls the shade of Death
That waits for him at Shiloh!
O these days!
When we have all gone back to peaceful ways,
Shall we not find sweet Peace a little dull?
—You do not speak.
The Maiden.
Madam, my heart is full
Of other thoughts.
The Lady.