Debris by Madge Morris Wagner (best detective novels of all time TXT) 📖

the priesthood wore.

The secret of they grief I may not know,
Since that thy lips refuse the tale to tell;
Methinks, dear child, it was the sound of woe
That woke an echo in my heart's deep well.

The wail of a spirit that a-yearning gropes
In darkness for the sunlight that is fled;
A broken idol in secret wept, and hopes--
Crushed hopes--that are to thee as are the dead.

A tender memory ling'ring yet of when
Each bounding pulse beat faster with its joy;
A something that allured, and won, and then
With waking fled, and years may not destroy

The impress which it left upon thy brain
But seek thee, child, grief's ravaging to stay?
Thy tears might fall as falls the show'ring rain,
They could not wash the heart's deep scars away.

Repine thee not; shroud not they faith in gloom;
Shrink not to meet a disappointment's frown;
Away beyond the narrow bordered tomb,
Who here have borne the cross may wear the crown.
SANSON.


TO SANSON

Whisper to him, fairies, whisper--
Whisper softly in his ear
That some one is waiting, waiting,
Listening his step to hear.

Fairies, if he knew his presence
Would a demon's spell allay,
Would he heed your timid whisperings?
Would he--will he come to-day?
REVENITA.


TO REVENITA

Fairies whisper, every whisper,
In the silence of the night,
And he catches the soft murmurs
Floating in the starry light.

And they tell him; yes, they tell him,
All in accents sweet and clear,
Of the beautiful Hereafter
That is ever drawing near.

There are loved ones, waiting, waiting,
For his footfall on the shore;
They will welcome his appearing--
They will greet him o'er and o'er.
SANSON.


TO SANSON

Oh, would the fairies to her whisper
The truths which they to him impart,
Teach her a beautiful hereafter,
A Heaven to bless a tired heart.

Yet thinks she that the dear ones waiting
Would envy not the boon she craves--
To rear fair friendship's sacred alter
Where love and hope sleep in their graves.

She knows not that a loving welcome
Will wait her in a realm of light,
Nought of a future meeting whispers,
No faith illumes her soul's dark night.

But oh! she knows, has by experience,
The saddest of all lessons learned;
Knows that she gathered dead-sea apples,
Which in her hands to ashes turned.

She knows into a trammelled torrent,
Is changed her life's free flowing tide;
Knows that her hand no oar is holding,
With which her drifting bark to guide.

She knows, yes, knows that, like the mirage,
Which for the thirsty traveler gleamed,
The sweet ideal she fondly cherished
Was never there; it only seemed.

If what she knows is to her proven
A false, deluding, fleeting show,
Can she, generous spirit, can she
Trust blindly what she does not know?

But if for this he shuts against her
The heart that's shining in his eyes,
She'll bring the gift that for the Peri
Unbarred the gate of paradise.
REVENITA.


TO REVENITA

If she'll left him be her teacher
In the mysteries of life,
In the spirit's grand unfoldment
Far beyond this world of strife,

A sacred altar he will build her,
And dedicate to friendship true,
And this shall be their bond of union,
More constant that all others knew.
SANSON.


TO SANSON

Kind teacher, henceforth be it mine,
To kneel at friendship's sacred shrine,
And hope's bright budding flowers entwine
Into a garland for they brow.
And thou shalt wait not for the hours
That gem creation's radiant towers,
To woo thee to elysian bowers,
But wear it now.

Too long a dreamer have I been,
Too long life's dark side only seen;
And if thou canst, while thus I kneel,
The mystery of life reveal,
Then gladly will I learn of thee.
For as on flowers the dewdrops fall,
As sunbeams break the storm-cloud's pall,
As pardon comes to lives which blame
Has crushed beneath its weight, so came
Thy sympathy to me.
REVENITA.


TO REVENITA

Life is love, and only love,
Love that had its source above.
It wreathes with flowers the chastening rod,
And diamond decks the throne of God.
SANSON.


TO SANSON

If "life is love, and only love,"
Then never have I lived before;
But for love's sack I'll sit me down
And careful con the lesson o'er.

I fain would win the shining goal,
So far away, so seeming fair,
But could not reach its hights alone;
Then, teacher, take me, take me there.
REVENITA.


TO REVENITA

Thy teacher, then, will take thee there,
And ever watch with tender care,
To guard they way to loftiest aim,
And his reward thy love shall claim.
SANSON.


TO SANSON

O, inconsistent teacher,
He'd knowledge give away;
Fill head and heart, from tome of art,
Then take me for his pay.

He'd kindly lead me to the realm
Where joyous freedom reigns,
He'd teach my soul love's sweet control,
Then claim it for his pains.
REVENITA.


TO REVENITA

Ah! Reyenita, do not charge
To selfishness thy teacher's plea,
He seeks thine every wish to bless,
His deepest fault is loving thee.
"Heaven's kingdom," said the Nazerene,
"Is in the heart;" sweet fairy queen
Thou rulest along this realm of mine,
Canst say I have no place in thine?
SANSON.


TO SANSON

They boast of Ormuz's milk-white pearls,
The ruby's magic art,
And proudly wear the crystal drop
That fires the diamond's heart.

And these may admiration claim,
And countless wealth may sway,
But rarer gem was given to me,
One golden summer day.

Its wondrous tints, a brilliant glow,
Emit in darkest gloom,
A sweeter fragrance 'round it clings,
Than breath of eastern bloom.

Were all earth's costly jewels thrown
In one great glittering heap,
They could not buy for ev'n a day
The gem I'd selfish keep.

Yet 'twas not won from pearly depths,
Nor gleaned from diamond mine,
Nor all the chemist's subtlety
Its substance could define.

It ne'er was set in band of fold
Some dainty hand to grace,
Ne'er shone in diadem to deck
A brow of kingly race.

For me alone, a wizard spell
Lies prisoned in its beams,
Hours of enchanted ecstacy
And days of Eden dreams.

Wouldst know the precious gift with which
For worlds I would not part?
The priceless jewel is they love,
Its setting is my heart.
REVENITA.


TO REVENITA

Oh, in the hush of midnight's hour,
When darkness sleeps on land and sea,
How oft in dreams, sweet fragile flower,
Thou'st come to bless and comfort me.

O, in the hush of midnight's hour,
How oft from taunting dreams I start,
To find thee but a fancy flower--
Thou cherished idol of my heart.
SANSON.


TO SANSON

I've a beautiful home, where I live in my dreams,
So joyous and happy--an Eden it seems;
All beautiful things in nature and are
Are blending to rapture the mind and the heart;
No discords to jar, no dissensions arise,
'Tis calm as Italia's ever blue skies,
When kissed by the bright rosy blush of the morn;
And a voice of the spheres on the breezes is borne,
Soft as the murmur of sea-tinted shells,
Sweet as the chiming of far away bells;
And grief cannot enter, nor trouble nor care,
And the proud peerless prince of my soul, he