Page:Poems Piatt.djvu/56

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42
THE BROTHER'S HAND.
Out with the darker brother once, a storm
Broke sharply down the twilight. For a time
She clung to him. But, dry again and warm,
Among their lamps she sung a sobbing rhyme
To her piano—and the gold-haired man—
Whose desolate music ended and began
With a far, subtle, creeping, sea-like chime.

Then hushed and went half-tearful to her room,
Asking herself but this: "Which shall I choose
Have I the saddest need of light or gloom?
The fair one surely is too fair to lose:
Without him half the world were empty, and
Without his brother———if I understand,
The dark one is too dark to quite refuse.

"And sometimes if I only glance at him,
His richer, fiercer colour seems to me
To make his stiller brother look as dim
As a star looks by lightning. Let me be,
My star, with the white constant light you shed;
Fade out, my lightning, or else strike me dead.
For star and lightning can but ill agree."