I
Sorrow-bound atop a tower,
The Damsel mourned her love—
Her Dragonfly, half her life passed;
A thrall of Fate, ill wove.
Hither spake a new-born voice:
"Wherefore dost thou not fly
Above the clouds which choketh thee?"
She cried, "What cause have I?
"My lover hath returned to dirt,
This monolith his grave;
So I shall wait atop this stone—
Mine own death soon to brave."
"Wouldst thou take mine hand in stead?"
The youngster did lament.
"Mine own sweet heart hath ought to be
Thrice good as being dead."
"Thou art but a Mayfly,"
The grieving maiden called.
"Come morn thy wings wouldst fade away;
Our love is doomed to crawl."
The lonely Mayfly shook his head
And caught the wind and flew.
"Nay, I shan't fall afore first light;
Ere Love shall pay its dues!"
II
Dancing on a silk-clad casket,
The Widow spilt good wine;
Betwixt the crooked, wooden slats,
Pooling corpse-wax shined.
The passing Mayfly thusly cried,
Struck by her bloody mirth:
"Surely thou art mad with grief!—"
"Nay! I dance for my rebirth!
"Mine own husband was a cruelty
Unto we who loved him;
And thou art truly blessed by God
Thy path ne'er crossed him."
"I beg thee—recall not his ilk,
And marry me in turn!
A single heart I doth pursue,
Afore I fill my urn."
"Thou art but a Mayfly,"
Quoth she, her love impaired,
"The only arms to hold thee now
Art those upon Hell's stair!"
The lonesome Mayfly shook his head
And caught the wind and flew.
"Fie! I shan't die afore dawn breaks;
Ere Love shall pay its dues!"
III
Not midnight past, patrolling low,
The Coachman came across
A wizened Mayfly on the stair—
An agéd ghost long-lost.
"Hark, sirrah! hast thou strength enough
To join the Devil's feast?
The banquet hath presently begun;
With room for thee, at least."
That agéd Mayfly thusly said:
"I shan't forsake my hope,
It is my wish to find one Love,
Afore I snag my rope."
"His Darkness is thy fairest host
And hastens thee below!
Mayfly, thou canst not, in good faith,
Rebuke the Lord of Hell!
"Thou art but a Mayfly,"
Echoed his stark command,
"Hence!—thou shalt dine with he tonight,
Lest unloved wilt thou end!"
The lonesome Mayfly bowed his head.
"I shall meet thy master,
But I shan't fail afore night ends,
Ere Love will not move faster!"
IV
The Devil's courtyard he traversed,
Wrapped in membranous cloak—
"Woe! mine heart hath not the vigour!
My wishes cannot choke!"
Thus spake the Devil's Harlequin
With ungainly grimace:
"From this fancy thou shouldst awake;
Flee this Sinner's palace!"
The old Mayfly replied in kind.
"I must meet thy master;
And bargain for my End undone—
Love shan't allude me after."
"Thou set forth a vain travail,
A dullard's own disaster!
Canst thou not see? Tis not for thee!
Thou'rt one lonesome bastard!"
"Thou art but a Mayfly,"
The Fool chanted once more.
"Didst thou wish to travail whither
The Devil beds his whores!"
The lonesome Mayfly shut his eyes,
Which still refused to weep—
"These barbs of thine affect me not;
Ere Love shall guide my sleep!"
V
High o'er lakes of molten sin,
Pandemonium loomed;
Beyond the queue at the black gate
The Mayfly glimpsed his tomb.
And that crowd turned to look unto
Similar marks of doom.
For those poor souls, awaiting death,
Were Mayflies same as him!
"Kin! whatfor do all you gather
At Satan's frontmost gate?"
A whisper was beset upon
The Mayflies, bid to wait.
"We wish for Love to hither find,"
Quoth that terrible horde.
"Which we shall, in spite of Time,
Afore the break of morn!"
"You are only Mayflies,"
He uttered in response.
"How can you hope to thence find Love
In spite of its absence?"
The Mayfly, nevermore alone,
Fell unto deep despair—
"Hark! we shan't fall afore sunrise,
Ere Love shall meet us there!"