I will lie and dream of the past time,
Eons of thought away,

And through the jungle of memory
Loosen my fancy to play;
When, a smooth and velvety tiger,
Ribbed with yellow and black,
Supple and cushion-footed,

I wandered where never the track
Of a human creature had rustled
The silence of mighty woods,
And, fierce in a tyrannous freedom,
I knew but the law of my moods.
The elephant, trumpeting, started

When he heard my footstep near,
And the spotted giraffes fled wildly
In a yellow cloud of fear.

I sucked in the noontide splendor,
Quivering along the glade,
Or yawning, panting, and dreaming,
Basked in the tamarisk shade,
Till I heard my wild mate roaring,
As the shadows of night came on
To brood in the trees' thick branches,
And the shadow of sleep was gone;
Then I roused, and roared in answer,

And unsheathed from my cushioned feet
My curving claws, and stretched me,
And wandered my mate to greet.

We toyed in the amber moonlight,

Upon the warm flat sand,

And struck at each other our massive arms,

How powerful he was and grand!

His yellow eyes flashed fiercely

As he crouched and gazed at me,
And his quivering tail, like a serpent,
Twitched, curving nervously.
Then like a storm he seized me,

With a wild triumphant cry,
And we met, as two clouds in heaven
When the thunders before them fly.

We grappled and struggled together,

For his love like his rage was rude; And his teeth in the swelling folds of my neck At times, in our play, drew blood.

Often another suitor

For I was flexile and fair
Fought for me in the moonlight,

While I lay couching there,

Till his blood was drained by the desert;
And, ruffled with triumph and power,
He licked me and lay beside me

To breathe him a vast half-hour.
Then down to the fountain we loitered,
Where the antelopes came to drink;
Like a bolt we sprang upon them,

Ere they had time to shrink;

We drank their blood and crushed them,
And tore them limb from limb,

And the hungriest lion doubted
Ere he disputed with him.

That was a life to live for!

Not this weak human life,

With its frivolous bloodless passions,
Its poor and petty strife!

Come to my arms, my hero:

The shadows of twilight grow,
And the tiger's ancient fierceness
In my veins begins to flow.
Come not cringing to sue me!

Take me with triumph and power,

As a warrior storms a fortress!

I will not shrink or cower.

Come as you came in the desert,

Ere we were women and men,

When the tiger passions were in us,
And love as you loved me then!

XXIV-880

I

THE CHIFFONIER

AM a poor Chiffonier!

I seek what others cast away!

In refuse-heaps the world throws by,

Despised of man, my trade I ply;

And oft I rake them o'er and o'er,

And fragments broken, stained, and torn,

I gather up, and make my store

Of things that dogs and beggars scorn.
I am the poor Chiffonier!

You see me in the dead of night
Peering along with pick and light,

And while the world in darkness sleeps,
Waking to rake its refuse-heaps:

I scare the dogs that round them prowl,
And light amid the rubbish throw:
For precious things are hid by foul,

Where least we heed and least we know.

I am the poor Chiffonier!

No wretched and rejected pile,

No tainted mound of offal vile,
No drain or gutter I despise,

For there may lie the richest prize.
And oft amid the litter thrown,

A silver coin- a golden ring —
Which holdeth still its precious stone,
Some happy chance to me may bring.
I am the poor Chiffonier!

These tattered rags, so soiled and frayed,
Were in a loom of wonder made,
And beautiful and free from shame
When from the master's hand they came.
The reckless world that threw them off
Now heeds them only to despise;
Yet, ah! despite its jeers and scoff,
What virtue still within them lies!

I am the poor Chiffonier!

Yes! all these shreds so spoiled and torn,
These ruined rags you pass in scorn,

This refuse by the highway tost,

I seek that they may not be lost;

And, cleansed from filth that on them lies, And purified and purged from stain,

Renewed in beauty they shall rise

To wear a spotless form again.

I am the poor Chiffonier!