Page:New poems and variant readings, Stevenson, 1918.djvu/52

From Wikisource
Jump to navigation Jump to search
This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
32
STEVENSON'S POEMS

Let Jacques stand Wert(h)ering by the wounded deer—
We shall make merry, honest friends of mine,
At this unruly time of year,
The Feast of Valentine.


I know how, day by weary day,
Hope fades, love fades, a thousand pleasures fade.
I have not trudged in vain that way
On which life's daylight darkens, shade by shade.
And still, with hopes decreasing, griefs increased,
Still, with what wit I have shall I, for one,
Keep open, at the annual feast,
The puppet-booth of fun.


I care not if the wit be poor,
The old worn motley stained with rain and tears,
If but the courage still endure
That filled and strengthened hope in earlier years;
If still, with friends averted, fate severe,
A glad, untainted cheerfulness be mine
To greet the unruly time of year,
The Feast of Valentine.


Priest, I am none of thine, and see
In the perspective of still hopeful youth
That Truth shall triumph over thee—

Truth to one's self—I know no other truth.