After the last meeting; the day following.

I seem to see her still; to see

That dim blue room. Her perfume comes

From lavender folds draped dreamily —

One blossom of brocaded blooms —

Some stuff of orient looms.

I seem to hear her speak; and back

Where lies the sun on books and piles

Of porcelain and bric-a-brac,

A tall clock ticks above the tiles,

Where Love's framed profile smiles.

I hear her say, “Ah, had I known!—

I suffer too for what has been —

For what must be.” — A wild ache shone

In her sad eyes that seemed to lean

On something far, unseen.

And as in sleep my own self seems

Outside my suffering self.— I flush

‘ Twixt facts and undetermined dreams,

And wait as silent as that hush

Of lilac light and plush.

Smiling, but suffering, I feel,

Beneath that face, so sweet and sad,

In those pale temples, thoughts like steel

Pierce burningly.— I had gone mad

Had I once deemed her glad.—

Unconsciously, with eyes that yearn

To look beyond the present far

For some faint future hope, I turn —

Above her garden, day's fierce star,

Vermilion at the window bar,

Sank sullenly — like love's own sun —

An omen of our future life.—

And then the memory of one

Rich day she'd said she'd be my wife

Set heart and brain at strife.

Again amid the heavy hues,

Soft crimson, seal, and satiny gold

Of flowers there, I stood‘ mid dews

With her; deep in her garden old,

While sunset fires uprolled.

And now.... It can not be! and yet

To feel‘ tis so!— In heart and brain

To know‘ tis so!— while warm and wet

I seem to smell those scents again,

Verbena-scents and rain.

I turn, in hope she'll bid me stay.

Again her cameo beauty mark

Set in that smile.— She turns away.

No word of love! not even a spark

Of hope to cheer the dark!

That sepia sketch — conceive it so —

A jaunty head with mouth and eyes

Tragic beneath a rose-chapeau,

Silk-masked, unmasking — it denies

The look we half surmise,

We know is there.‘ Tis thus we read

The true beneath the false; perceive

The smile that hides the ache.— Indeed!

Whose soul unmasks?... Not mine!— I grieve,—

Oh God!— but laugh and leave....