206 JANETTE'S HAIR. JANETTE'S HAIR.-CHARLES G. HAlpine. LOOSEN the snood that you wear, Janette, For the world for me had no daintier sight Than your brown hair veiling your shoulders white, It was brown with a golden gloss, Janette, It was fine as the floss of the silk, my pet; 'Twas a beautiful mist falling down to your waist, My arm was the arm of a clown, Janette, Your eyes had a swimming glory, Janette- They were gray with the chastened tinge of the sky, Your lips-but I have no words, Janette, And they suited your gold-brown hair, my pet, Oh, you tangled my life in your hair, Janette, Thus ever I dream what you were, Janette, In the darkness of desolate years I moan, ON THE TOWN. ON THE TOWN.-R. H. STODDARD. HE lamps are lighted, the streets are full, For, coming and going, like waves of the sea, Thousands are out this beautiful night; They jostle each other, but shrink from me. Men hurry by with a stealthy glance, Women pass by with their eyes cast down, Even the children seem to know The shameless girl of the town. Hated and shunned, I walk the street, The world is cruel. It may be right To crush the harlot, but grant it so, What made her the guilty thing she is? For she was innocent once, you know. 'Twas love!--that terrible word tells all; She loved a man, and blindly believed His vows, his kisses, his crocodile tears— Of course, the fool was deceived. What had I to gain by a moment's sin, To weigh in the scale with my innocent years, My womanly shame, my ruined name, My father's curses, my mother's tears ? The love of a man! It was something to give Was it worth it? The price was a soul paid down. Did I get a soul-his soul-in exchange? Behold me here on the town. "Your guilt was heavy," the world will say, "And heavy, heavy your doom must be; 207 208 ON THE TOWN. For, to pity and pardon a woman's fall, Is to set no value on chastity. You undervalue the virgin's crown, The spotless honor that makes her dear." But, pity and pardon! Who are you, Let both be punished or both go free. If it be in woman a dreadful thing, What is it in man, now? Come, be just; Tell me what is done to the wretch Who tempts, and riots in woman's fall? His friends forsake? He is scorned of all? Not he; his judges are men like himself, Or thoughtless women, who humor their whim; "Young blood," "wild oats," "better hush it up,' They soon forget it,—in him! Even his mother, who ought to know Frames a thousand excuses for him, Because, forsooth, the man is her son. You have daughters, madam (he told me so), Fair, innocent daughters," Woman, what then?" Some mother may have a son like yours, Bid them beware of men. I saw his coach in the street to-day ON THE TOWN. The wife of his bosom took the air. She was bought in the mart where hearts are sold; I gave myself away for his love, She sold herself for his gold. He lives, they say, in a princely way, One dark night, Flattered and feasted. . I saw the windows a blaze of light; Back to my gaudy den I went, And fixed a flower or two in my hair. I meet his boy in the park sometimes, He smiles at me as his father smiled I hate the man, but I love the boy, For I think what my own, had he lived, would be— Perhaps it is he come back from the dead— To his father, alas, not me! But I stand too long in the shadow here, Now for insult, blows perhaps, And, bitterer still, my own disdain ! I take my place in the crowded street, Not like the simple women I see,— You may cheat them, men, as much as you please; You wear no masks with me. 209 210 ON THE TOWN. I know ye! under your honeyed words Cling to them, ladies, and shrink from me, But go your ways, and I'll go mine, "Go, sin no more;" or your Bibles lie― Die-the word has a pleasant sound, The sweetest I've heard this many a year. Suppose I throw myself in the street? done? Before the horses could trample me down, But look-the river! From where I stand Down on the dark and lonely pier It is but a step-I can end my woe! A plunge, a splash, and all will be o'er, The death-black waters will drag me down; God knows where! But no matter where, So I am off the town. |