Part 4

No, there's that in us that time can never tame; And life will always seem a careless game; And they'd better far forget -- Those who say they love us yet -- Forget, blot out with bitterness our name.

New Year's Eve

It's cruel cold on the water-front, silent and dark and drear; Only the black tide weltering, only the hissing snow; And I, alone, like a storm-tossed wreck, on this night of the glad New Year, Shuffling along in the icy wind, ghastly and gaunt and slow.

They're playing a tune in McGuffy's saloon, and it's cheery and bright in there (God! but I'm weak -- since the bitter dawn, and never a bite of food); I'll just go over and slip inside -- I mustn't give way to despair -- Perhaps I can bum a little booze if the boys are feeling good.

They'll jeer at me, and they'll sneer at me, and they'll call me a whiskey soak; ("Have a drink? Well, thankee kindly, sir, I don't mind if I do.") A drivelling, dirty, gin-joint fiend, the butt of the bar-room joke; Sunk and sodden and hopeless -- "Another? Well, here's to you!"

McGuffy is showing a bunch of the boys how Bob Fitzsimmons hit; The barman is talking of Tammany Hall, and why the ward boss got fired. I'll just sneak into a corner and they'll let me alone a bit; The room is reeling round and round... O God! but I'm tired, I'm tired....

* * * * *

Roses she wore on her breast that night. Oh, but their scent was sweet! Alone we sat on the balcony, and the fan-palms arched above; The witching strain of a waltz by Strauss came up to our cool retreat, And I prisoned her little hand in mine, and I whispered my plea of love.

Then sudden the laughter died on her lips, and lowly she bent her head; And oh, there came in the deep, dark eyes a look that was heaven to see; And the moments went, and I waited there, and never a word was said, And she plucked from her bosom a rose of red and shyly gave it to me.

Then the music swelled to a crash of joy, and the lights blazed up like day, And I held her fast to my throbbing heart, and I kissed her bonny brow. "She is mine, she is mine for evermore!" the violins seemed to say, And the bells were ringing the New Year in -- O God! I can hear them now.

Don't you remember that long, last waltz, with its sobbing, sad refrain? Don't you remember that last good-by, and the dear eyes dim with tears? Don't you remember that golden dream, with never a hint of pain, Of lives that would blend like an angel-song in the bliss of the coming years?

Oh, what have I lost! What have I lost! Ethel, forgive, forgive! The red, red rose is faded now, and it's fifty years ago. 'Twere better to die a thousand deaths than live each day as I live! I have sinned, I have sunk to the lowest depths -- but oh, I have suffered so!

Hark! Oh, hark! I can hear the bells!... Look! I can see her there, Fair as a dream... but it fades... And now -- I can hear the dreadful hum Of the crowded court... See! the Judge looks down... _NOT GUILTY_, my Lord, I swear... The bells -- I can hear the bells again!... Ethel, I come, I come!...

* * * * *

"Rouse up, old man, it's twelve o'clock. You can't sleep here, you know. Say! ain't you got no sentiment? Lift up your muddled head; Have a drink to the glad New Year, a drop before you go -- You darned old dirty hobo... My God! Here, boys! He's _DEAD!_"

Comfort

Say! You've struck a heap of trouble -- Bust in business, lost your wife; No one cares a cent about you, You don't care a cent for life; Hard luck has of hope bereft you, Health is failing, wish you'd die -- Why, you've still the sunshine left you And the big, blue sky.

Sky so blue it makes you wonder If it's heaven shining through; Earth so smiling 'way out yonder, Sun so bright it dazzles you; Birds a-singing, flowers a-flinging All their fragrance on the breeze; Dancing shadows, green, still meadows -- Don't you mope, you've still got these.

These, and none can take them from you; These, and none can weigh their worth. What! you're tired and broke and beaten? -- Why, you're rich -- you've got the earth! Yes, if you're a tramp in tatters, While the blue sky bends above You've got nearly all that matters -- You've got God, and God is love.

The Harpy

There was a woman, and she was wise; woefully wise was she; She was old, so old, yet her years all told were but a score and three; And she knew by heart, from finish to start, the Book of Iniquity.

There is no hope for such as I on earth, nor yet in Heaven; Unloved I live, unloved I die, unpitied, unforgiven; A loathed jade, I ply my trade, unhallowed and unshriven.

I paint my cheeks, for they are white, and cheeks of chalk men hate; Mine eyes with wine I make them shine, that man may seek and sate; With overhead a lamp of red I sit me down and wait

Until they come, the nightly scum, with drunken eyes aflame; Your sweethearts, sons, ye scornful ones -- 'tis I who know their shame. The gods, ye see, are brutes to me -- and so I play my game.

For life is not the thing we thought, and not the thing we plan; And Woman in a bitter world must do the best she can -- Must yield the stroke, and bear the yoke, and serve the will of man;

Must serve his need and ever feed the flame of his desire, Though be she loved for love alone, or be she loved for hire; For every man since life began is tainted with the mire.

And though you know he love you so and set you on love's throne; Yet let your eyes but mock his sighs, and let your heart be stone, Lest you be left (as I was left) attainted and alone.

From love's close kiss to hell's abyss is one sheer flight, I trow, And wedding ring and bridal bell are will-o'-wisps of woe, And 'tis not wise to love too well, and this all women know.

Wherefore, the wolf-pack having gorged upon the lamb, their prey, With siren smile and serpent guile I make the wolf-pack pay -- With velvet paws and flensing claws, a tigress roused to slay.

One who in youth sought truest truth and found a devil's lies; A symbol of the sin of man, a human sacrifice. Yet shall I blame on man the shame? Could it be otherwise?

Was I not born to walk in scorn where others walk in pride? The Maker marred, and, evil-starred, I drift upon His tide; And He alone shall judge His own, so I His judgment bide.

Fate has written a tragedy; its name is "The Human Heart". The Theatre is the House of Life, Woman the mummer's part; The Devil enters the prompter's box and the play is ready to start.

Premonition

'Twas a year ago and the moon was bright (Oh, I remember so well, so well); I walked with my love in a sea of light, And the voice of my sweet was a silver bell. And sudden the moon grew strangely dull, And sudden my love had taken wing; I looked on the face of a grinning skull, I strained to my heart a ghastly thing.

'Twas but fantasy, for my love lay still In my arms, with her tender eyes aglow, And she wondered why my lips were chill, Why I was silent and kissed her so. A year has gone and the moon is bright, A gibbous moon, like a ghost of woe; I sit by a new-made grave to-night, And my heart is broken -- it's strange, you know.

The Tramps

Can you recall, dear comrade, when we tramped God's land together, And we sang the old, old Earth-song, for our youth was very sweet; When we drank and fought and lusted, as we mocked at tie and tether, Along the road to Anywhere, the wide world at our feet --

Along the road to Anywhere, when each day had its story; When time was yet our vassal, and life's jest was still unstale; When peace unfathomed filled our hearts as, bathed in amber glory, Along the road to Anywhere we watched the sunsets pale?

Alas! the road to Anywhere is pitfalled with disaster; There's hunger, want, and weariness, yet O we loved it so! As on we tramped exultantly, and no man was our master, And no man guessed what dreams were ours, as, swinging heel and toe, We tramped the road to Anywhere, the magic road to Anywhere, The tragic road to Anywhere, such dear, dim years ago.

L'Envoi

You who have lived in the land, You who have trusted the trail, You who are strong to withstand, You who are swift to assail: _Songs have I sung to beguile, Vintage of desperate years, Hard as a harlot's smile, Bitter as unshed tears._

Little of joy or mirth, Little of ease I sing; Sagas of men of earth Humanly suffering, _Such as you all have done; Savagely faring forth, Sons of the midnight sun, Argonauts of the North._

Far in the land God forgot Glimmers the lure of your trail; Still in your lust are you taught Even to win is to fail. _Still you must follow and fight Under the vampire wing; There in the long, long night Hoping and vanquishing._

Husbandman of the Wild, Reaping a barren gain; Scourged by desire, reconciled Unto disaster and pain; _These, my songs, are for you, You who are seared with the brand. God knows I have tried to be true; Please God you will understand._

End of Project Gutenberg's The Spell of the Yukon, by Robert Service