Menken, Adah Isaacs
|SALE OF SOULS.|
Poor Heart, what do the waves say to thee?
The sunshine laughed on the hill sides.
The link of years that wore a golden look bound me to
woman-life by the sweet love of my Eros, and the
voice of one who made music to call me mother.
Weak Heart, weak Heart!
Oh, now I reel madly on through clouds and storms and
The hills have grown dark,
They lack the grace of my golden-haired child, to climb
their steep sides, and bear me their smiles in the
blue-eyed violets of our spring-time.
Sad Heart, what do the hills say to thee?
They speak of my Eros, and how happily in the dim discolored
hours we dreamed away the glad light, and
watched the gray robes of night as she came through
the valley, and ascended on her way to the clouds.
Kisses of joy, and kisses of life,
Kisses of heaven, and kisses of earth,
Clinging and clasping white hands;
Mingling of soft tresses;
Murmurings of love, and murmurings of life,
With the warm blood leaping up in joy to answer its
The broad shelter of arms wherein dwelt peace and content
so sweet to love.
All, all were mine.
Loving Heart, loving Heart,
Hush the wailing and sobbing voice of the past;
Sleep in thy rivers of the soul,