Cross Roads, Margaret E. Sangster [red queen ebook TXT] 📗

that my head lay on your breast
Only last night, I may sing of dreams that died,
And hopes that never were born, and faith betrayed,
Of weary feet that have left the road and strayed
Out of the narrow way, to pastures wide.

Dear, when my songs were gay, I did not know
Whether you cared. And so I had to sing
Gladly, to mask grim fear - I had to bring
Sunlight to point the path that I must go!
Now that the clouds are silver sweet above,
I may sing songs of sadness. I am blessed
Knowing, dear, that my whole heart lies at rest,
Knowing, dear, that I have your love - your love!


KNOWING THAT YOU HAVE WALKED HER MUDDY ROADS
WEARILY, AFTER BITTER TIMES OF FIGHTING;
KNOWING THAT YOU HAVE CARRIED HEAVY LOADS
OVER HER HILLS - WHILE I, AT HOME, WAS LIGHTING
DIM YELLOW CANDLES ON THE MANTEL SHELF. . . .
KNOWING YOU SUFFERED AGONY AND LOSS,
UNDER THE VERY SHADOW OF A CROSS -
FRANCE HOLDS A BIT OF YOU - AND OF MYSELF!


WHEN WAR CAME

War came, one day, and drew us close together,
Although it swept us many miles apart;
The love that lay as lightly as a feather,
Now rests, a precious weight, upon my heart.
And all the dreams I dreamed for just the dreaming,
Have taken on a meaning that is new;
And somehow all the lonely world is seeming,
To cry aloud my aching need of you!

Because you were so much a part of living,
Like sunshine and the freshness of the air,
The priceless gift of faith that you were giving
Seemed small to me. Scarce knowing you were
there
I took your heart-strings in my careless fingers,
And played a song as light as summer dew,
And yet, today, its wistful echo lingers
And fills an empty world with thoughts of you.

I did not think that I would ever miss you,
I did not dream the time would come to be
When I would long to touch your hand, to kiss you -
To hear your voice say tender words to me.
I did not know that I would wonder whether
My head would rest, once more, against your
heart. . . .
War came, my dear, and drew us close together,
Although it swept us many miles apart!


WHEN YOU WENT BY

I stood in the rain and watched you pass,
I stood in the blinding rain. . . .
And I thought of a fragrant summer night,
When the room was glowing with candlelight,
And a shower beat on the window glass
With a wonderful, low refrain.
I thought of your arms that held me tight,
And your eyes that were near and warmly bright;
I thought of - all, as I watched you pass,
And my soul was wrung with pain.

"Tramp, tramp, tramp!" rang your column's tread.
"Tramp, tramp, tramp!" through the street.
(Ah, dear, it was summer once, and there
Were flower scents on the misty air -
Honeysuckle and mignonette, poignantly, sadly
sweet!)
"Tramp, tramp, tramp!" rang your column's tread,
And my eyes were dim as I bowed my head;
And my heart seemed broken and old and dead,
Under your marching feet.

I stood in the rain and watched you pass -
There in the autumn rain. . . .
And I thought, my dear, of the night when you
Had kissed me first. (Ah, your eyes were blue,
And very tender, and Heaven-true,
There in the candlelight!)
I thought of a misty summer night,
When a shower fell on the vivid grass
(There, through the rain, I watched you pass!)
I thought of a mystic summer night
That never may come again.

"TRAMP, TRAMP, TRAMP!" RANG YOUR COLUMN'S TREAD,
"TRAMP, TRAMP, TRAMP!" IN THE STREET;
AND I TRIED TO SMILE - WITH A LIFTED HEAD -
BUT MY HEART LAY, CRUSHED, AT YOUR FEET!


IN MEMORIAM

To an American Aviator

He went to battle in the mist-hung sky,
Like some gold-hearted bird with pinions strong;
He went with courage, with a snatch of song,
In all his splendid youth! And God on high
Looked down with love to watch him dip and fly,
Then lifted him to where the brave belong.
He went to right a bleeding nation's wrong,
And proved that he was not afraid to die!

So we, who stare across the lonely hours,
Must only think of that great gift he gave;
Must think of other lives that his will save;
And know that, when the tender, healing showers
Have fallen in a stranger-land, the flowers
Will bloom, like prayers, upon a hero's grave!


A PEASANT GIRL SINGS

Somewhere, Out There, he is - just a boy, that's all -
(Laughter sparkled in his eyes - he was always
singing!)
Just a boy who answered when he heard his country's
call;
(Somewhere, Out There, he is - how my thoughts go
winging - )
Ready to do or dare,
(Like sunlight was his hair,)
Just a boy, a laughing boy,
Somewhere, Out There.

Idle my wheel, to-day, hushed is it's spinning -
(Ah, but his eyes were blue - blue as the sea - )
Somewhere, Out There, he is . . . Losing - or winning!
(Boy with the carefree heart, come back to me!)
Blood red the cannon's flare,
(God, can you hear my prayer?)
Keep him, my boy, from harm -
Somewhere, Out There.


TOGETHER

THEY LAY TOGETHER IN THE SUN AND WAITED FOR THE END;
SIDE BY SIDE, TOGETHER, BEARDED FOE AND FRIEND;
JEAN FROM THE PLEASANT FIELDS OF SINGING, SOUTHERN
FRANCE,
JEAN FROM THE POPPY FIELDS SIGHING WITH ROMANCE;
FRITZ FROM A FATHERLAND HE BLINDLY LOVED AND SERVED,
FRITZ WHOSE SOFT-NOSED BULLETS HAD NEVER FLINCHED NOR
SWERVED;
AND PETER, WHOSE TIRED EYES WERE WIDE AND DEEP AND
BROWN,
PETER FROM DELANCEY STREET, IN NEW YORK TOWN.

They didn't speak, these three,
They didn't know each other's tongue;
And, then,
When men
Whose songs are nearly sung
Are lying side by side,
Their breathing not so . . . free,
The gulf is rather wide.

In the sun they lay there;
And Fritz's hair
Was very bright.
He was a foe
To kill on sight -
And yet the light
Upon his hair was so,
So very fair. . . .


Jean found himself remembering HER hair;
Of palest gold it was, a magic snare
To net men's soul in! She had bade him go,
Sobbing, "Je t'aime" - which means, "I love you so!"
Her hair - her hands - her lips,
Red as a sunset cloud when daytime slips
Into the night. No, redder!
Like a flower
That blooms upon the earth for just an hour;
A poppy flower, fragile, soft. . . . HER LIPS
Red as the heart-blood of a man, that drips
Into eternity. . . .
Jean sighed,
And died.

PERHAPS HER LIPS WERE VERY NEAR - WHO KNOWS?
WHEN EYES MUST CLOSE
AGAINST THE SUN, AND LIFE, WHO CARES?
ONE ONLY DARES
TO WONDER!

Fritz lay still.
He felt the strength, the faith, the stubborn will,
Drop from him like worn garments, till he lay
Half-frightened in the burning light of day.
He had killed many, yes. . . .
From under
His tunic, gropingly, he drew a cross;
He wondered would it make, for her, the loss
A little less?
Ah, to press
His bearded lips once more upon her cheek,
To hear her speak. . . .

Yes, he had killed, and killed -
And he had thrilled
To do it. . . .
But just to sit
Beside her, in the shade,
THAT had been paradise!
Her soft arms laid
About his throat. . . .
THEY STRANGLED HIM -
His eyes grew dim. . . .
He choked - once . . . twice. . . .

Peter from Delancey Street, laughed with white-
lipped pluck.
"Dyin' side o' HIM!" he coughed. "Ain't it rotten
luck!
"Poor guy, they got him, though - got him same as
me. . . ."
Peter, from Delancey Street, stopped talking suddenly.

He saw -
A candy store,
On the busy, smelly corner of a crowded city
slum;
He heard the hum
Of traffic in the street,
The sound of feet
Upon the pavement; and he saw,
Behind the counter there,
THE GIRL. She wore
Her hair
Plastered tight to her little shell-like ears.
He felt her tears
Upon his face
The night he told her that he'd left his place,
His steady paying job, to go and fight.

"Good night!"
He'd said to her.
"Somebody's gotta go!
Yerself, you know,
We gotta STIR
T'lick them fellers Over There!"
Her slicked-back hair
Had roughened up against his khaki sleeve,
And she had cried:
"Dear, MUST you leave?"
And he had dried
Her eyes, and smudged the powder on her