Chapter I: And My Shadow Are So Made One

THAT WERE WE PARTED EACH LIFE WERE DONE.

Throughout the flight of the blithe bright day
Always he follows me, doggedly;
But I need not heed him,--because my way
Is flecked with sunlight,--and shrug to see
How fondly my Shadow follows me.

When dying day grows chill and stark,
And vigilant stars troop each to his place,
He rises,--being free in the dark,
He rises and grins,--being freed for a space,
He rises to talk with me face to face.

Then he tells me of much I am loth to hear,
For he whispers of all that we two have seen,
And loved, and squandered. _At forty year,
My master, how wide is the gulf between
That which we are and what might have been!_

And he whispers of dreams that the years degrade,
And of lust made lord over love’s demesne,
And of chances wasted, and faith betrayed.
_My master, how wide is the gulf between
That which we are and what might have been!_

Even thus he whispers; and he and I
Sit thus, alone, till the night’s defeat
Is signaled eastward, and chance thereby
Wins room for a morrow, fair and fleet,
That finds my Shadow beneath my feet.