<h2><SPAN name="page109"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"></span>MEDITATIONS</h2>
<h3>HIS</h3>
<p class="poetry">I <span class="smcap">was</span> so proud of
you last night, dear girl,<br/>
While man with man was striving for your smile.<br/>
You never lost your head, nor once dropped down<br/>
From your high place<br/>
As queen in that gay whirl.</p>
<p class="poetry">(It takes more poise to wear a little crown<br/>
With modesty and grace<br/>
Than to adorn the lordlier thrones of earth.)</p>
<p class="poetry">You seem so free from artifice and wile:<br/>
And in your eyes I read<br/>
Encouragement to my unspoken thought.<br/>
My heart is eloquent with words to plead<br/>
Its cause of passion; but my questioning mind,<br/>
<SPAN name="page110"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"></span>Knowing
how love is blind,<br/>
Dwells on the pros and cons, and God knows what.</p>
<p class="poetry">My heart cries with each beat,<br/>
‘She is so beautiful, so pure, so sweet,<br/>
So more than dear.’<br/>
And then I hear<br/>
The voice of Reason, asking: ‘Would she meet<br/>
Life’s common duties with good common sense?<br/>
Could she bear quiet evenings at your hearth,<br/>
And not be sighing for gay scenes of mirth?<br/>
If, some great day, love’s mighty recompense<br/>
For chastity surrendered came to her,<br/>
If she felt stir<br/>
Beneath her heart a little pulse of life,<br/>
Would she rejoice with holy pride and wonder,<br/>
And find new glory in the name of wife?<br/>
Or would she plot with sin, and seek to plunder<br/>
Love’s sanctuary, and cast away its treasure,<br/>
That she might keep her freedom and her pleasure?<br/>
Could she be loyal mate and mother dutiful?<br/>
Or is she only some bright hothouse bloom,<br/>
Seedless and beautiful,<br/>
Meant just for decoration, and for show?’<br/>
Alone here in my room,<br/>
<SPAN name="page111"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"></span>I hear
this voice of Reason. My poor heart<br/>
Has ever but one answer to impart,<br/>
‘I love her so.’</p>
<h3>HERS</h3>
<p class="poetry">After the ball last night, when I came home<br/>
I stood before my mirror, and took note<br/>
Of all that men call beautiful. Delight,<br/>
Keen sweet delight, possessed me, when I saw<br/>
My own reflection smiling on me there,<br/>
Because your eyes, through all the swirling hours,<br/>
And in your slow good-night, had made a fact<br/>
Of what before I fancied might be so;<br/>
Yet knowing how men lie, by look and act,<br/>
I still had doubted. But I doubt no more,<br/>
I know you love me, love me. And I feel<br/>
Your satisfaction in my comeliness.</p>
<p class="poetry">Beauty and youth, good health and willing
mind,<br/>
A spotless reputation, and a heart<br/>
Longing for mating and for motherhood,<br/>
And lips unsullied by another’s kiss—<br/>
These are the riches I can bring to you.</p>
<p class="poetry">But as I sit here, thinking of it all<br/>
In the clear light of morning, sudden fear<br/>
<SPAN name="page112"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"></span>Has
seized upon me. What has been your past?<br/>
From out the jungle of old reckless years,<br/>
May serpents crawl across our path some day<br/>
And pierce us with their fangs? Oh, I am not<br/>
A prude or bigot; and I have not lived<br/>
A score and three full years in ignorance<br/>
Of human nature. Much I can condone;<br/>
For well I know our kinship to the earth<br/>
And all created things. Why, even I<br/>
Have felt the burden of virginity,<br/>
When flowers and birds and golden butterflies<br/>
In early spring were mating; and I know<br/>
How loud that call of sex must sound to man<br/>
Above the feeble protest of the world.<br/>
But I can hear from depths within my soul<br/>
The voices of my unborn children cry<br/>
For rightful heritage. (May God attune<br/>
The souls of men, that they may hear and heed<br/>
That plaintive voice above the call of sex;<br/>
And may the world’s weak protest swell into<br/>
A thunderous diapason—a demand<br/>
For cleaner fatherhood.)<br/>
Oh, love, come near;<br/>
Look in my eyes, and say I need not fear.</p>
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