And we saw this little planet known as Earth,
When the mighty Mother Chaos gave it birth;
But in love’s conceit we thought all those worlds from space were brought,
For no greater aim or purpose than our mirth.
And we laughed in love’s abandon, and we sang,
Till the echoing peals of Aristarchus rang,
As hot hissing comets came, and white suns burst into flame,
And a myriad worlds from out the darkness sprang.
I can show you, when the Moon is at its best,
Aristarchus, and the spot we made our nest,
Oh! I always wondered why, when the Moon was in the sky,
I was stirred with such strange longing, and unrest.
And I knew the subtle beauty and the force
Of our love was never bounded by Earth’s course.
So with Memory’s sail unfurled, I went cruising past this world,
And I followed till I traced it to its source.
DELL AND I
In a mansion grand, just over the way
Lives bonny, beautiful Dell;
You may have heard of this lady gay,
For she is a famous belle.
I live in a low cot opposite—
You never have heard of me;
For when the lady moon shines bright,
Who would a pale star see?
But ah, well! ah, well! I am happier far than Dell,
As strange as that may be.
Dell has robes of the richest kind—
Pinks and purples and blues;
And she worries her maid and frets her mind
To know which one to choose.
Which shall it be now, silk or lace?
In which will I be most fair?
She stands by the mirror with anxious face,
And her maid looks on in despair.
Ah, well! ah, well! I am not worried, you see, like Dell,
For I have but one to wear.
Dell has lovers of every grade,
Of every age and style;
Suitors flutter about the maid,
And bask in her word and smile.
She keeps them all, with a coquette’s art,
As suits her mood or mirth,
And vainly wonders if in one heart
Of all true love has birth.
Ah, well! ah, well! I never question myself like Dell,
For I know a true heart’s worth.
Pleasure to Dell seems stale and old,
Often she sits and sighs;
Life to me is a tale untold,
Each day is a glad surprise.
Dell will marry, of course, some day,
After her belleship is run;
She will cavil the matter in worldly way
And wed Dame Fortune’s son
But, ah, well! sweet to tell, I shall not dally and choose like Dell,
For I love and am loved by—one.