II
Once came Venus to me, bringing
Eros where my cattle fed—
"Teach this little boy your singing,
Gentle herdsman," Venus said.
I was young—I did not know
Whom it was that Venus led—
That was many years ago!
In a lusty voice but mellow—
Callow pedant! I began
To instruct the little fellow
In the mysteries known to man;
Sung the noble cithern's praise,
And the flute of dear old Pan,
And the lyre that Hermes plays.
But he paid no heed unto me—
Nay, that graceless little boy
Coolly plotted to undo me—
With his songs of tender joy;
And my pedantry o'erthrown,
Eager was I to employ
His sweet ritual for mine own!
Ah, these years of ours are fleeting!
Yet I have not vainly wrought,
Since to-day I am repeating
What dear lessons Eros taught;
Love, and always love, and then—
Counting all things else for naught—
Love and always love again!
THE WOOING OF THE SOUTHLAND
(ALASKAN BALLAD)
The Northland reared his hoary head
And spied the Southland leagues away—
"Fairest of all fair brides," he said,
"Be thou my bride, I pray!"
Whereat the Southland laughed and cried:
"I'll bide beside my native sea,
And I shall never be thy bride
Till thou com'st wooing me!"
The Northland's heart was a heart of ice,
A diamond glacier, mountain high—
Oh, love is sweet at any price,
As well know you and I!