The End
In the past I have craved for many a thing
And ever you answered "No,"
Now I would ask you for one thing more;
For God's sake let me go!
Truly the Greeks were wise who smiled,
Saying, in days gone by,
Love has only the heart of a child
And the wings of a butterfly!
(Ah, for the cabined sampans, floating free,
Ah, for the tropic moonlit nights, that fling
Unnecessary silver on a sea
Itself with phosphorescent light aglow.
Ah, for the waving palms along the shore.)
Craft, long laid up in a dockyard dry,
Wearily yearn to feel
The cool caresses of living water
Pressing against the keel.
A ship remembers the open sky
Anchored in roadstead ease
And all that the wind and waves have taught her
In far-off perilous seas.
Amidst the strife of clamorous speeches
And eager gold-snatching hands,
The soul grows faint for the yellow beaches,
The loneliness of the wind-swept reaches,
And the calm of Eastern lands.
My foot is athrill for the steel of the stirrup,
My palms are astir for the grip of an oar
The whole of my body is sick for the sea
And the peace of a desolate shore.
Perhaps you gave me what you call love,
(I had called it another name)
But anyway, I am tired of playing
Take all the stakes of the sorry game.
I wonder you thought me worth betraying.
But what is there now that is worth the saying
Since the end must be the same?
I shall piece together my broken youth,
If aught of youth remain,
And when at last the wreck of me reaches,
Beyond the lilt of persuasive speeches,
(I question if ever you spoke the truth)
The palm-tree shade of the coral beeches
The cool retreat of the Cinnamon grove,
Peace will find me again.
For Youth, who sleeps so soundly and so well,
On any couch and under any stars,
Shall join with Rest and weave a magic spell
To soothe the memory of my prison bars.
Serenity shall raise pavilions o'er me,
Freedom and dreams console me with a smile,
Hope, the Eternal Mirage, dance before me,
And Love,— no more of love for me awhile!
I seek, to celebrate my glad release,
The Tents of Silence and the Camp of Peace.
That little island! surf-circled, it waits
On the sapphirine waves for me,
To the right of the fairway through the Straits
As you sail to the China Sea.
A pile built hut and a captive boat,
At the foot of the wavewashed stair afloat,
Blue water abreak upon the beach,
The soft, vague sound of Malayan speech,
Ah, the sun-gilt rest of that island shore,
Mine the folly to strive for more!
I shall go the way of the open sea,
To the lands I knew before you came,
And the cool clean breezes shall blow from me
The memory of your name.
The transient sorrow you cause me now
Will fade away in the distance dim,
But Love is a God, and I wonder how
You will make your peace with him!