The jig of Forslin, a symphony; a symphony

This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated.1916 Excerpt: ... THE JIG OF FORSLIN PART I. l. In the clear evening, as the lamps were lighted, Forslin, sitting alone in his strange world, Meditated; yet through his musings heard The dying footfalls of the tired day Monotonously ebb and ebb away Into the smouldering west; And heard the dark world slowly come to rest. Now, as the real world dwindled and grew dim, His dreams came back to him... Now, as one who stands In the aquarium's gloom, by ghostly sands, Watching the glide of fish beneath pale bubbles,--The bubbles quietly streaming Cool and white and green... poured in silver... He did not know if this were wake or dreaming; But thought to lean, reach out his hands, and swim. Some things there were, that, being remembered clearly, Pierced with a troubling gleam His lucid dream: As,--that he had stepped in from a blare of sunlight Over the watery threshold to this gloom; Sharp red roofs; blue sky; rich autumn trees Shaking their gold out on the breeze; And then, after eternities had vanished, That he was oldish, and that his name was Forslin, And that he sat in a small bare gaslit room... In the mute evening, as the music sounded, Each voice of it, weaving gold or silver, Seemed to open a separate door for him... Suave horns eluded him down corridors; Persuasive violins Sang of nocturnal sins; And ever and again came the hoarse clash Of cymbals; as a voice that swore of murder. Which way to choose, in all this labyrinth? Did all lead in to the self same chamber? No matter: he would go... In the evening, as the music sounded; Streaming swift and thin, or huddled slow... Coffee-cups and artificial palm-trees; Cigarette-tips glowing in the shadows; And the mellow gleams in polished marble floors. The ceaseless footsteps clashed on the cold marble, The sinister footman tu...