A line-o'-verse or two

To our own kindred in that land
There’s not much you need tell.
Just tell them that you saw me, and
That I was looking well.

TO LILLIAN RUSSELL

(A reminiscence of 18 – .)

Dear Lillian! (The “dear” one risks;
“Miss Russell” were a bit austerer) —
Do you remember Mr. Fiske’s
Dramatic Mirror

Back when – ? (But we’ll not count the years;
The way they’ve sped is most surprising.)
You were a trifle in arrears
For advertising.

I brought the bill to your address;
I was the Mirror’s bill collector —
In Thespian haunts a more or less
Familiar spectre.

On that (to me) momentous day
You dwelt amid the city’s clatter,
A few doors west of old Broadway;
The street – no matter.

But while you have forgot the debt,
And him who called in line of duty,
He never, never shall forget
Your wondrous beauty.

You were too fair for mortal speech, —
Enchanting, positively rippin’;
You were some dream, and quelque peach,
And beaucoup pippin.

Your “fight with Time” had not begun,
Nor any reason to promote it;
No beauty battles to be won.
Beauty? You wrote it!

“A bill?” you murmured in distress,
“A bill?” (I still can hear you say it.)
“A bill from Mr. Fiske? Oh, yes …
I’ll call and pay it.”

And he, the thrice-requited kid,
That such a goddess should address him,
Could only blush and paw his lid,
And stammer, “Yes’m!”

Eheu! It seems a cycle since,
But still the nerve of memory tingles.
And here you’re writing Beauty Hints,
And I these jingles.

DORNRÖSCHEN

In the great hall of Castle Innocence,
Hedged round with thorns of maiden doubts and fears, —
Within, without, a silence grave, intense, —
Her soul lies sleeping through the rose-leaf years.

Hedged round with thorns of maiden doubts and fears;
And all save one the thither path shall miss.
Her soul lies sleeping through the rose-leaf years,
Waiting the Prince and his awakening kiss.

And all save one the thither path shall miss;
For one alone may thread the thorn defence.
Waiting the Prince and his awakening kiss,
A hush broods over Castle Innocence.

For one alone may thread the thorn defence,
Care free, heart free, and singing on his way.
A hush broods over Castle Innocence
One comes to wake; – but when – ah, who can say!

Care free, heart free, and singing on his way,
One comes all thorns of Fear and Doubt to dare.
One comes to wake! But when? Ah, who can say
The hour his light feet press the castle stair?

One comes all thorns of Fear and Doubt to dare!
Thorns with his coming into roses bloom.
The hour his light feet press the castle stair
The warders of the castle hall give room.

Thorns with his coming into roses bloom;
For him the flowers of Trust and Faith unfold.
The warders of the castle hall give room
Before the young Prince of the Heart of Gold.

For him the flowers of Trust and Faith unfold;
Till then the thorns of maiden doubts and fears.
Before the young Prince of the Heart of Gold