Violets and Other Tales | Page 6

and cultivates its
savagery in an inflated happiness at own nearness to perfection.
But the bell clangs sharply, the overheated, nervous, tingling boys fall
into line, and the sudden transition from massing disorder to military
precision cuts short the ten minutes' musing.

A PLAINT.
Dear God, 'tis hard, so awful hard to lose The one we love, and see him
go afar, With scarce one thought of aching hearts behind, Nor wistful
eyes, nor outstretched yearning hands. Chide not, dear God, if surging
thoughts arise. And bitter questionings of love and fate, But rather give
my weary heart thy rest, And turn the sad, dark memories into sweet.
Dear God, I fain my loved one were anear, But since thou will'st that
happy thence he'll be, I send him forth, and back I'll choke the grief
Rebellious rises in my lonely heart. I pray thee, God, my loved one joy
to bring; I dare not hope that joy will be with me, But ah, dear God, one
boon I crave of thee, That he shall ne'er forget his hours with me.

IN UNCONSCIOUSNESS.
There was a big booming in my ears, great heavy iron bells that swung
to-and-fro on either side, and sent out deafening reverberations that
steeped the senses in a musical melody of sonorous sound; to-and-fro,
backward and forward, yet ever receding in a gradually widening circle,
monotonous, mournful, weird, suffusing the soul with an unutterable
sadness, as images of wailing processions, of weeping, empty-armed
women, and widowed maidens flashed through the mind, and settled on
the soul with a crushing, o'er-pressing weight of sorrow.
* * * * *
Now I lay floating, arms outstretched, on an illimitable waste of calm
tranquil waters. Far away as eye could reach, there was naught but the

pale, white-flecked, green waters of this ocean of eternity, and above
the tender blue sky arched down in perfect love of its mistress, the
ocean. Sky and sea, sea and sky, blue, calm, infinite, perfect sea,
heaving its womanly bosom to the passionate kisses of its ardent
sun-lover. Away into infinity stretched this perfectibility of love; into
eternity, I was drifting, alone, silent, yet burdened still with the
remembrance of the sadness of the bells.
Far away, they tolled out the incessant dirge, grown resignedly sweet
now; so intense in its infinite peace, that a calm of love, beyond all
human understanding and above all earthly passions, sank deep into my
soul, and so permeated my whole being with rest and peace, that my
lips smiled and my eyes drooped in access of fulsome joy. Into the
illimitable space of infinity we drifted, my soul and I, borne along only
by the network of auburn hair that floated about me in the green waters.
* * * * *
But now, a rude grasp from somewhere is laid upon me, pressing upon
my face. Instantly the air grows gloomy, gray, and the ocean rocks
menacingly, while the great bells grow harsh and strident, as they hint
of a dark fate. I clasp my hands appealingly to the heavens; I moan and
struggle with the unknown grasp; then there is peace and the sweet
content of the infinite Nirvana.
Then slowly, softly, the net of auburn hair begins to drag me down
below the surface of the sea. Oh! the skies are so sweet, and now that
the tender stars are looking upon us, how fair to stay and sway upon the
breast of eternity! But the net is inexorable, and gently, slowly pulls me
down. Now we sink straight, now we whirl in slow, eddying circles,
spiral-like; while at each turn those bells ring out clanging now in wild
crescendo, then whispering dread secrets of the ocean's depths. Oh, ye
mighty bells, tell me from your learned lore of the hopes of mankind!
Tell me what fruit he beareth from his strivings and yearnings; know
not ye? Why ring ye now so joyful, so hopeful; then toll your dismal
prophecies of o'er-cast skies?
Years have passed, and now centuries, too, are swallowed in the gulf of

eternity, yet the auburn net still whirls me in eddying circles, down,
down to the very womb of time; to the innermost recesses of the
mighty ocean.
* * * * *
And now, peace, perfect, unconditioned, sublime peace, and rest, and
silence. For to the great depths of the mighty ocean the solemn bells
cannot penetrate, and no sound, not even the beatings of one's own
heart, is heard. In the heart of eternity there can be nothing to break the
calm of frozen æons. In the great white hall I lay, silent, unexpectant,
calm, and smiled in perfect content at the web of auburn hair which
trailed across my couch. No passionate longing for life