No More Learning

The colors of the jewels laugh and weep
As with his very voice. In them the wave
Of sorrow and joy that, with a changing sweep,
Bore him to misery or else made him blest
Still surges in melodious, wild unrest.
So when each gem in place I touch and take,
It murmurs what he thought or what he spake.


FIRST OPAL

My heart is like an opal
Made to lie upon your breast
In dreams of ardor, clouded o'er
By endless joy's unrest.

And forever it shall haunt you
With its mystic, changing ray:
Its light shall live when we lie dead,
With hearts at the heart of day!


SECOND OPAL

If, from a careless hold,
One gem of these should fall,
No power of art or gold
Its wholeness could recall:
The lustrous wonder dies
In gleams of irised rain,
As light fades out from the eyes
When a soul is crushed by pain.
Take heed that from your hold
My love you do not cast:
Dim, shattered, vapor-cold--
That day would be its last.


II


THIRD OPAL

_He won her love; and so this opal sings
With all its tints in maze, that seem to quake
And leap in light, as if its heart would break:_

Gleam of the sea,
Translucent air,
Where every leaf alive with glee
Glows in the sun without shadow of grief--
You speak of spring,
When earth takes wing
And sunlight, sunlight is everywhere!
Radiant life,
Face so fair--
Crowned with the gracious glory of wife--
Your glance lights all this happy day,
Your tender glow
And murmurs low
Make miracle, miracle, everywhere.

Earth takes wing
With birds--do I care
Whether of sorrow or joy they sing?
No; for they make not my life nor destroy!
My soul awakes
At a smile that breaks
In sun; and sunlight is everywhere!


III

_Then dawned a mood of musing thoughtfulness;
As if he doubted whether he could bless
Her wayward spirit, through each fickle hour,
With love's serenity of flawless power,
Or she remain a vision, as when first
She came to soothe his fancy all athirst. _


FOURTH OPAL

We were alone: the perfumed night,
Moonlighted, like a flower
Grew round us and exhaled delight
To bless that one sweet hour.

You stood where, 'mid the white and gold,
The rose-fire through the gloom
Touched hair and cheek and garment's fold
With soft, ethereal bloom.
And when the vision seemed to swerve,
'T was but the flickering shine
That gave new grace, a lovelier curve,
To every dream-like line.

O perfect vision! Form and face
Of womanhood complete!
O rare ideal to embrace
And hold, from head to feet!

Could I so hold you ever--could
Your eye still catch the glow
Of mine--it were an endless good:
Together we should grow

One perfect picture of our love! . . .
Alas, the embers old
Fell, and the moonlight fell, above--
Dim, shattered, vapor-cold.


IV

_What ill befell these lovers? Shall I say?
What tragedy of petty care and sorrow?
Ye all know, who have lived and loved: if nay,
Then those will know who live and love tomorrow.
But here at least is what this opal said,
The fifth in number: and the next two bore
My fancy toward that dim world of the dead,
Where waiting spirits muse the past life o'er_:


FIFTH OPAL

I dreamed my kisses on your hair
Turned into roses. Circling bloom
Crowned the loose-lifted tresses there.
"O Love," I cried, "forever
Dwell wreathed, and perfume-haunted
By my heart's deep honey-breath!