42
THE BROTHER'S HAND.
Out with the darker brother once, a storm
Broke sharply down the twilight. For a time
She clung to him. But, dry again and warm,
Among their lamps she sung a sobbing rhyme
To her piano—and the gold-haired man—
Whose desolate music ended and began
With a far, subtle, creeping, sea-like chime.
Broke sharply down the twilight. For a time
She clung to him. But, dry again and warm,
Among their lamps she sung a sobbing rhyme
To her piano—and the gold-haired man—
Whose desolate music ended and began
With a far, subtle, creeping, sea-like chime.
Then hushed and went half-tearful to her room,
Asking herself but this: "Which shall I choose
Have I the saddest need of light or gloom?
The fair one surely is too fair to lose:
Without him half the world were empty, and
Without his brother———if I understand,
The dark one is too dark to quite refuse.
Asking herself but this: "Which shall I choose
Have I the saddest need of light or gloom?
The fair one surely is too fair to lose:
Without him half the world were empty, and
Without his brother———if I understand,
The dark one is too dark to quite refuse.
"And sometimes if I only glance at him,
His richer, fiercer colour seems to me
To make his stiller brother look as dim
As a star looks by lightning. Let me be,
My star, with the white constant light you shed;
Fade out, my lightning, or else strike me dead.
For star and lightning can but ill agree."
His richer, fiercer colour seems to me
To make his stiller brother look as dim
As a star looks by lightning. Let me be,
My star, with the white constant light you shed;
Fade out, my lightning, or else strike me dead.
For star and lightning can but ill agree."
