As I Drank Tea to-Day

As I drank tea to-day
With a dozen women, chattering, gay,
In delicate drooping gowns, in jewels like dew,
Laughing, light-voiced, — I thought of a certain hunger I knew
Hid in the heart of one, the merriest laugher there.
I saw three little dull threads in the lazy dusk of her hair;
Three little keen wrinkles about her beautiful shining eyes.
And I wished I were not so wise.

I wished that I did not know
Those symbols of pain: — that low
Under her pride and sweet warm-worded address
She was shaken with loneliness;
That the one great dream she had dared to dream was a lie,
And half of her life went wearying, ‘Let me die.’

I wished that I could not hear
That murmur of mortal fear
Through the clink of silver and subtle whisper of lace.
I dared not look in her face. —

Then I thought (while I laughed aloud
With my cup at poise), ‘Ah, the proud
Masques that we wear! We too,
All of us, dancing through
Some queer little pantomime each day, —
Jeweled and gloved, deft-spoken and gay, —
Ah, but God only hears
All of the follies and fears,
Meanness and courage, breathed out and in
Over these tea-cups’ delicate din.’

Then I looked in that woman’s face,
Over its pearls and roses and lace,
And I knew that I need not fear to see
Those little dull threads, those wrinkles three,
Or hear the cry of her life. I knew
We were all of us crying too:
Crying with wonder or weariness,
Too much love or too little. Yes,
It was Life, just Life, that we hid away
Under our gossip and glad array.
And that woman’s laughter and pride,
Shielding her heart, half-crucified,
Seemed bravely done, — although
I thought, ‘Must Life hurt, hurt so?’

Till as I took her hand,
Saying good-bye, the smooth words planned
Choked in my throat. She stood there dumb,
Folded my fingers and pressed them numb,
Knowing I knew.
Ah, yes! I knew!
All of us seeking, hungering, hiding too,
In delicate drooping gowns, and jewels like stars and dew!

So we all went away:
A dozen women, chattering, gay.