Cross Roads by Margaret E. Sangster (the little red hen read aloud txt) 📖

shone,
A sea where never a ripple danced -
That reflected your face along.

I walked in a daze down well-worn paths -
Paths that your feet had trod;
I thought your thoughts and I spoke your tongue,
I knelt to your hostile God.
And the dreams that had been a part of me,
I tossed with a sigh away,
And left to rust in the misty dust
Of the land called Yesterday.

My hands lay folded in slim repose,
Quite as you bade them rest;
Folded, meek, o'er the leaden heart
That tortured my gypsie breast.
And I smiled with my lips - my eyes were numb -
I smiled for I never knew,
That the mind of me was a lifeless sea,
Reflecting the face of you!

You took the lilt from my carefree life,
And the song from my singing heart;
But there came a day when the world grew gray,
When I knew that we must part. . . .
So I tore you out of your soul-bound shrine -
And, oh, though it caused me pain,
I raised my face to the sky and knew
That my song would come again!


THE QUEEN

"Barefooted came the beggar maid,"
So ran the minstrel's lay -
"Barefooted came the beggar maid
"Before the King Corpethua."
But, oh, her face was like a light,
Her hair was black as middle night,
And whispers ran from left to right -
"She is more beautiful than day!"

"In robe and crown the king stepped down,"
So ran the minstrel's lay -
"In robe and crown the king stepped down,
"To meet and greet her by the way."
And so the beggar maid became,
A Queen, but just a queen in name,
For, with her gypsie eyes aflame,
Her mirror heard her say -

I was a beggar maid, I used to lie
Silent and unafraid, beneath the sky,
And watch the stars - my little sisters, they,
I used to wake at dawning time of day
To plunge my body in some mountain stream -
I was a beggar maid!
Is this a dream,
This golden crown I wear upon my head?
This robe of royal purple and of red,
This rope of pearls, this ring, these silken shoon?

Not long ago the silver crescent moon
Was like a hand that beckoned me to stray,
And cities seemed vast centuries away;
And as my feet - swift feet, they were, and light -
Carried me through the wonder of the night,
I never thought of kings, or kingly power -
My life was all one splendid, singing hour!

I love my king - He raised me from the dust,
And looked at me with wonder, and with trust;
My hair hung, tangled, to the waist of me,
He brushed it from my eyes, that he might see
Deep into them!
He set me on his steed,
He never knew my name, or asked my creed,
He just believed in me - and told me so.
I love my king, I love him well, but, oh -
Once I wore poppies, red upon my brow,
(A crown seems very heavy to me, now,)
And once I wore, for all the world to see
A gown of rags. (Now, velvets stifle me!)
And once my hands (how soft they are!) were strong
To toil for me.
The days seem very long
While I must sit in state above the land -
I love my king . . . But does he understand?
I was a beggar maid, I used to lie
Silent and unafraid beneath the sky -
And, now that I am queen, my being longs
To hear, once more, the little slumber songs
Of night birds nesting in some forest tree -
I want to be myself, again, and free!
I want to climb the crest of some great hill,
And watch the sunset clouds, again, and thrill
Before the color of them! I would stand
Alone, once more, and see the wistful land
Take on the tint of twilight.
I would pray
My gypsie prayer, again, at close of day!

I love my king - for he has given me
Rare pearls, the treasure of a sighing sea,
And rubies, red as sunset clouds a-glow
And opals like the wistful winds that blow
At twilight-time.

But I would wear, instead,
Wild forest flowers, twined about my head -
And I would dance, barefooted, on the sod,
An innovation to my pagan God!

Am I a queen? What is this crown I wear?
I tear it from my smoothly plaited hair -
I lay my ring, my rope of pearls, aside;
Am I a queen - am I a monarch's bride?
The soul of me is still a gypsie thing -
I pull them off, the glowing gems, the ring. . . .

I love my king, I love him well - but, oh,
GIVE ME MY RAGS, AGAIN, AND LET ME GO!


FRAGMENTS

A WITHERED ROSE

A book of verse,
And one withered rose
Between two pages. . . .

My love is as faded as the petals,
But still faintly fragrant
With sweet memories.


ASHES OF LOVE

Dust on the letters you sent me
And I did not know that they had been forgotten.

Does it mean that I love again?


IT'S LOTS OF FUN -

It's lots of fun to play around,
To dance and sing;
And not be tied to anyone,
Or anything!

It's lots of fun to live my life,
Beneath the sky;
To have no one who owns the right
To question "Why"?

It's lots of fun to come and go,
Through storm and strife,
With no one by my side who hopes
To mould my life.

(But sometimes at the twilight time,
When night birds cry;
I dream, perhaps, that something fair
Has passed me by!)

And yet - it's good to play around,
To laugh and sing;
And not be tied to anyone,
Or anything!


VALENTINE

I wonder if you know, up there in heaven,
That I have kept your roses, crumpled now.
I wonder if you guess that still I treasure
A faded ribbon that once touched your brow.
I wonder if you dream, as dusk is falling,
Of how I read that note you sent to me.
I wonder if you think, up there in heaven,
Of all the golden days that used to be.

I wonder if you smile up there in heaven,
And pass by, lightly, in your robes of white;
Or if you sometimes think of me a little.
You seem so near, so very near tonight.
I wonder if that last shy kiss I gave you
Can make you lonely, just a bit, for me.
I wonder if you long, up there in heaven,
For all the golden plans that used to be.

Do they have valentines up there in heaven?
A love like mine is surely strong to go
The little way from earth to where you wait me,
Although it be beyond the stars' faint glow.
I want you dear; my tired heart is calling;
My eyes are searching, though they may not see;
I wonder if you're lonely, there in heaven,
For all the golden dreams that used to be.


THE SACRIFICE

I started out in a cloak of pride,
With talent, too, that I did not hide;
I started out on Life's stony road,
Ambition's weight was my only load,
And the way seemed fair in the dawn's first glow,
And I hurried - ran - FOR I DID NOT KNOW!

Love smiled from a garden by the way,
And called to me, but I would not stray
From the road that stretched like a ribbon white,
Up endless hills to an endless night.
Love smiled at me, but I pushed ahead,
And love fell back in the garden - dead -
But I did not care as I hastened by,
And I did not pause for regret or sigh. . . .
The road before was a path of hope,
And every hill with its gentle slope
Led up to heights I had dreamed and prayed
To reach some day -
Ah! I might have stayed
With Love and Youth in the garden gay,
That smiled at me from beside the way.

I plodded up, and the gentle hills
Grew hard to climb, and the laughing rills
Were torrents peopled with sodden forms;
The sky grew black with the threat of storms,
And rocks leaped out and they bruised my feet,
And faint I grew in the fever heat.
(But ever on led the path that lay
As grey as dust in the waning day.)
My back was bent, and my heart was sore,
And the cloak of pride that I grandly wore
Was rent and patched and not fair to see -
Ambition, talent, seemed naught to me. . . .
But I struggled on 'till I reached the top,
FOR ONLY THEN DID I DARE TO STOP!

I stood on the summit gazing down,
And the earth looked sordid and dull and brown,
And neutral-tinted and neutral-souled;
And all of life seemed a story told,
And the only spot that was bright to see
Was a patch of green that had bloomed for me
Where a garden lived in a spring long fled,
When Love stood smiling -
BUT LOVE WAS DEAD!


TO A CERTAIN ROOM

Your room is still the dainty little place,
That used to seem so much a part of you -