A Mood
THE sun aslant the carpet, and the rain
Blown sobbingly against the window glass,
While I sit silent with a wordless pain,
Pressing my heart between its iron hands.
The slow hours pass. . . .
Between the dawn lands and the sunset lands
My soul walks wearily with aching eyes,
The whole world grey about her where she stands !
Sorrow and she are tired of the long noon,
The sullen skies. . . .
My friend at work hums softly an old tune,
And in the grate, new lit, a fluctuant fire
Puts forth pale pointed flame-flowers that full soon
Fret all the rough black coals to fairy gold
Of tower and spire !
Sunlight and firelight, but the world feels cold—
The wet trees toss their weight of tumbled green ;
And shreds of torn cloud banners manifold
Drift up the dome of heaven, while slips the light,
Pearl hued, between. . . .
You
… I wonder shall I meet you in the night,
In that dear house of Dreams, Sleep s dwelling-place?
O Prince ! O Lord of life ! O heart s delight !
O Lover ! never this side of the stars
Seen face to face ! . . .
In vain my winged songs beat against the bars
Of bitter life ; then, falling mute and tired,
Like leaves that the sharp hoar frost sheds and scars,
Lie dead beneath the heaven they desired.
MLA citation:
Custance, Olive. “A Mood.” The Yellow Book, vol. 8, January 1896, pp. 241-242. Yellow Book Digital Edition, edited by Dennis Denisoff and Lorraine Janzen Kooistra, 2010-2014. Yellow Nineties 2.0, Ryerson University Centre for Digtial Humanities, 2020. https://1890s.ca/YBV8_custance_mood/