It is odd, but I stand here and fancy
These people who now play a part,
All forced by some strange necromancy
To speak, and to act, from the heart.
What a hush would come over the laughter!
What a silence would fall on the mirth!
And then what a wail would sweep after,
As the night-wind sweeps over the earth!
If the secrets held under and hidden
In the intricate hearts of the crowd
Were suddenly called to, and bidden
To rise up and cry out aloud,
How strange one would look to another!
Old friends of long standing and years—
Own brothers would not know each other,
Robed new in their sorrows and fears.
From broadcloth, and velvet, and laces,
Would echo the groans of despair,
And there would be blanching of faces
And wringing of hands and of hair.
That man with his record of honour,
That lady down there with the rose,
That girl with Spring’s freshness upon her,
Who knoweth the secrets of those?
Smile on, O ye maskers, smile sweetly!
Step lightly, bow low and laugh loud!
Though the world is deceived and completely,
I know ye, O sad-hearted crowd!
I watch you with infinite pity:
But play on, play ever your part,
Be gleeful, be joyful, be witty!
’Tis better than showing the heart.
LIFE AND I
Life and I are lovers, straying
Arm in arm along:
Often like two children Maying,
Full of mirth and song,
Life plucks all the blooming hours
Growing by the way;
Binds them on my brow like flowers,
Calls me Queen of May.
Then again, in rainy weather,
We sit vis-à-vis,
Planning work we’ll do together
In the years to be.
Sometimes Life denies me blisses,
And I frown or pout;
But we make it up with kisses
Ere the day is out.
Woman-like, I sometimes grieve him,
Try his trust and faith,
Saying I shall one day leave him
For his rival, Death.