Madison Julius Cawein (Мэдисон Джулиус Кавейн)
The Coward
He found the road so long and lone That he was fain to turn again. The bird's faint note, the bee's low drone Seemed to his heart to monotone The unavailing and the vain, And dirge the dreams that life had slain. And for a while he sat him there Beside the way, and bared his head: He felt the hot sun on his hair; And weed-warm odors everywhere Waked memories, forgot or dead, Of days when love this way had led To that old house beside the road With white board-fence and picket gate, And garden plot that gleamed and glowed With color, and that overflowed With fragrance; where, both soon and late, She 'mid the flowers used to wait. Was it the same? or had it changed, As he and she, with months and years? How long now had they been estranged? How far away their lives had ranged, Since that last meeting, filled with tears, And boyish hopes and maiden fears! He closed his eyes, and seemed to see That parting now: The moon above The old house and its locust tree; The moths that glimmered drowsily From flower to flower, the scent whereof Seemed portion of that oldtime love. Her face was lifted, pale and wet; Her body tense as if with pain: He stooped, yes, he could see it yet A moment and their young lips met, And then. . . There in the lonely lane He seemed to live it o'er again. Why had.he gone? 'Twas for her sake. But what had come of all his toil? The City, like some monster snake, Had dragged him down down, half awake, Crushing him in its grimy coil, Whence none escapes without a soil. He was not clean yet. She would read Failure, vice-written, in his face. But, haply, now she had no need Of him, whose life, like some wild weed Full grown, with evil would replace The love in her heart's garden-space. He could not bear to look and see The question in those virgin eyes. What answer for that look had he? He thought it out. It could not be. He could not live a life of lies. Better to break all oldtime ties. And then he rose. The house was near There where the road turned from the wood. Whose voice was that he seemed to hear? Then heart and soul were seized with fear, And, turning, as if death-pursued, He fled into the solitude.
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