Read Ebook: Troubled Waters by Raine William MacLeod

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Ebook has 1460 lines and 56194 words, and 30 pages

It is requested that those who may have by them any un-published Poems, Essays, or other articles appearing to coincide with the views in which this Periodical is established, and who may feel desirous of contributing such papers--will forward them, for the approval of the Editor, to the Office of publication. It may be relied upon that the most sincere attention will be paid to the examination of all manuscripts, whether they be eventually accepted or declined.

My Beautiful Lady

I love my lady; she is very fair; Her brow is white, and bound by simple hair; Her spirit sits aloof, and high, Altho' it looks thro' her soft eye Sweetly and tenderly.

As a young forest, when the wind drives thro', My life is stirred when she breaks on my view. Altho' her beauty has such power, Her soul is like the simple flower Trembling beneath a shower.

As bliss of saints, when dreaming of large wings, The bloom around her fancied presence flings, I feast and wile her absence, by Pressing her choice hand passionately-- Imagining her sigh.

My lady's voice, altho' so very mild, Maketh me feel as strong wine would a child; My lady's touch, however slight, Moves all my senses with its might, Like to a sudden fright.

A hawk poised high in air, whose nerved wing-tips Tremble with might suppressed, before he dips,-- In vigilance, not more intense Than I; when her word's gentle sense Makes full-eyed my suspense.

Her mention of a thing--august or poor, Makes it seem nobler than it was before: As where the sun strikes, life will gush, And what is pale receive a flush, Rich hues--a richer blush.

My lady's name, if I hear strangers use,-- Not meaning her--seems like a lax misuse. I love none by my lady's name; Rose, Maud, or Grace, are all the same, So blank, so very tame.

Whene'er she moves there are fresh beauties stirred; As the sunned bosom of a humming-bird At each pant shows some fiery hue, Burns gold, intensest green or blue: The same, yet ever new.

What time she walketh under flowering May, I am quite sure the scented blossoms say, "O lady with the sunlit hair! "Stay, and drink our odorous air-- "The incense that we bear:

"Your beauty, lady, we would ever shade; "Being near you, our sweetness might not fade." If trees could be broken-hearted, I am sure that the green sap smarted, When my lady parted.

This is why I thought weeds were beautiful;-- Because one day I saw my lady pull Some weeds up near a little brook, Which home most carefully she took, Then shut them in a book.

A deer when startled by the stealthy ounce,-- A bird escaping from the falcon's trounce, Feels his heart swell as mine, when she Stands statelier, expecting me, Than tall white lilies be.

The first white flutter of her robe to trace, Where binds and perfumed jasmine interlace, Expands my gaze triumphantly: Even such his gaze, who sees on high His flag, for victory.

We wander forth unconsciously, because The azure beauty of the evening draws: When sober hues pervade the ground, And life in one vast hush seems drowned, Air stirs so little sound.

We thread a copse where frequent bramble spray With loose obtrusion from the side roots stray, : I'll lift one with my foot, and talk About its leaves and stalk.

Or may be that the prickles of some stem Will hold a prisoner her long garment's hem; To disentangle it I kneel, Oft wounding more than I can heal; It makes her laugh, my zeal.

Then on before a thin-legged robin hops, Or leaping on a twig, he pertly stops, Speaking a few clear notes, till nigh We draw, when quickly he will fly Into a bush close by.

A flock of goldfinches may stop their flight, And wheeling round a birchen tree alight Deep in its glittering leaves, until They see us, when their swift rise will Startle a sudden thrill.

I recollect my lady in a wood, Keeping her breath and peering-- Into a nest which lay below, Leaves shadowing her brow.

I recollect my lady asking me, What that sharp tapping in the wood might be? I told her blackbirds made it, which, For slimy morsels they count rich, Cracked the snail's curling niche:

She made no answer. When we reached the stone Where the shell fragments on the grass were strewn, Close to the margin of a rill; "The air," she said, "seems damp and chill, "We'll go home if you will."

"Make not my pathway dull so soon," I cried, "See how those vast cloudpiles in sun-glow dyed, "Roll out their splendour: while the breeze "Lifts gold from leaf to leaf, as these "Ash saplings move at ease."

Piercing the silence in our ears, a bird Threw some notes up just then, and quickly stirred The covert birds that startled, sent Their music thro' the air; leaves lent Their rustling and blent,

Until the whole of the blue warmth was filled So much with sun and sound, that the air thrilled. She gleamed, wrapt in the dying day's Glory: altho' she spoke no praise, I saw much in her gaze.

Then, flushed with resolution, I told all;-- The mighty love I bore her,--how would pall My very breath of life, if she For ever breathed not hers with me;-- Could I a cherub be,

How, idly hoping to enrich her grace, I would snatch jewels from the orbs of space;-- Then back thro' the vague distance beat, Glowing with joy her smile to meet, And heap them round her feet.

Her waist shook to my arm. She bowed her head, Silent, with hands clasped and arms straightened: O God! It is not right to tell: But I remember well

Each breast swelled with its pleasure, and her whole Bosom grew heavy with love; the swift roll Of new sensations dimmed her eyes, Half closing them in ecstasies, Turned full against the skies.

The rest is gone; it seemed a whirling round-- No pressure of my feet upon the ground: But even when parted from her, bright Showed all; yea, to my throbbing sight The dark was starred with light.

Of My Lady In Death

The grass has grown above that breast, Now cold and sadly still, My happy face felt thrill:-- Her mouth's mere tones so much expressed! Those lips are now close set,-- Lips which my own have met; Her eyelids by the earth are pressed; Damp earth weighs on her eyes; Damp earth shuts out the skies. My lady rests her heavy, heavy rest.

To see her slim perfection sweep, Trembling impatiently, With eager gaze at me! Her feet spared little things that creep:-- "We've no more right," she'd say, "In this the earth than they." Some remember it but to weep. Her hand's slight weight was such, Care lightened with its touch; My lady sleeps her heavy, heavy sleep.

My day-dreams hovered round her brow; Now o'er its perfect forms Go softly real worms. Stern death, it was a cruel blow, To cut that sweet girl's life Sharply, as with a knife. Cursed life that lets me live and grow, Just as a poisonous root, From which rank blossoms shoot; My lady's laid so very, very low.

Dread power, grief cries aloud, "unjust,"-- To let her young life play Its easy, natural way; Then, with an unexpected thrust, Strike out the life you lent, Just when her feelings blent With those around whom she saw trust Her willing power to bless, For their whole happiness; My lady moulders into common dust.

Small birds twitter and peck the weeds That wave above her head, Shading her lowly bed: Their brisk wings burst light globes of seeds, Scattering the downy pride Of dandelions, wide: Speargrass stoops with watery beads: The weight from its fine tips Occasionally drips: The bee drops in the mallow-bloom, and feeds.

About her window, at the dawn, From the vine's crooked boughs Birds chirupped an arouse: Flies, buzzing, strengthened with the morn;-- She'll not hear them again At random strike the pane: No more upon the close-cut lawn, Her garment's sun-white hem Bend the prim daisy's stem, In walking forth to view what flowers are born.

No more she'll watch the dark-green rings Stained quaintly on the lea, To image fairy glee; While thro' dry grass a faint breeze sings, And swarms of insects revel Along the sultry level:-- No more will watch their brilliant wings, Now lightly dip, now soar, Then sink, and rise once more. My lady's death makes dear these trivial things.

Within a huge tree's steady shade, When resting from our walk, How pleasant was her talk! Elegant deer leaped o'er the glade, Or stood with wide bright eyes, Staring a short surprise: Outside the shadow cows were laid, Chewing with drowsy eye Their cuds complacently: Dim for sunshine drew near a milking-maid.

Rooks cawed and labored thro' the heat; Each wing-flap seemed to make Their weary bodies ache: The swallows, tho' so very fleet, Made breathless pauses there At something in the air:-- All disappeared: our pulses beat Distincter throbs: then each Turned and kissed, without speech,-- She trembling, from her mouth down to her feet.

My head sank on her bosom's heave, So close to the soft skin I heard the life within. My forehead felt her coolly breathe, As with her breath it rose: To perfect my repose Her two arms clasped my neck. The eve Spread silently around, A hush along the ground, And all sound with the sunlight seemed to leave.

We had no heed of time: the cause Was that our minds were quite Absorbed in our delight, Silently blessed. Such stillness awes, And stops with doubt, the breath, Like the mute doom of death. I felt Time's instantaneous pause; An instant, on my eye Flashed all Eternity:-- I started, as if clutched by wild beasts' claws,

Awakened from some dizzy swoon: I felt strange vacant fears, With singings in my ears, And wondered that the pallid moon Swung round the dome of night With such tremendous might. A sweetness, like the air of June, Next paled me with suspense, A weight of clinging sense-- Some hidden evil would burst on me soon.

My lady's love has passed away, To know that it is so To me is living woe. That body lies in cold decay, Which held the vital soul When she was my life's soul. Bitter mockery it was to say-- "Our souls are as the same:" My words now sting like shame; Her spirit went, and mine did not obey.

It was as if a fiery dart Passed seething thro' my brain When I beheld her lain There whence in life she did not part. Her beauty by degrees, Sank, sharpened with disease: The heavy sinking atms exposed to view.

The young wife drove the car down the basin and stopped near the store, leaving the engine still running. None of the men even glanced her way. Their eyes were focused on each other with a tenseness that made her want to scream. She waited, breathless, uncertain what to expect. The pulse in her throat beat fast with excitement. That a collision of some sort impended she did not need to be told.

The man with the rifle spoke thickly in a heavy, raucous voice: "I've been looking for you, Rowan McCoy. First off, I'll tell you something. I'm here with my sheep like I promised, on the way to Circle Diamond. I'm going right past the door of the ranch to Thunder Mountain. If any man tries to stop me, I'll fix his clock. Get that?"

Rowan's eyes were like chilled steel, his body absolutely motionless. "Better turn back while you can, Tait," he advised quietly.

"I'll see you in hell first. I'm going through. But there's another thing I've got to settle with you, Rowan McCoy. That's about my wife. Stand up and fight, you white-livered coyote!" A sudden passionate venom leaped into the voice of the sheepman. He cursed his enemy savagely and flung at him a string of vile names.

Ruth, terror-stricken, believed the man was working himself up to do murder. She wanted to cry out, to rush forward and beg him to stop. But her throat was parched and her limbs weighted with heavy chains.

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