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diff --git a/old/20174.txt b/old/20174.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 869b836..0000000 --- a/old/20174.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,3759 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Freedom, Truth and Beauty, by Edward Doyle - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Freedom, Truth and Beauty - -Author: Edward Doyle - -Release Date: December 23, 2006 [EBook #20174] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FREEDOM, TRUTH AND BEAUTY *** - - - - -Produced by Sigal Alon, Brett Fishburne, David Garcia and -the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - - -FREEDOM, TRUTH AND BEAUTY - -SONNETS BY EDWARD DOYLE - -Author of Cagliostro, Moody Moments, the American Soldier, the Haunted -Temple and other poems; The Comet, a play of our times and Genevra, a -play of Mediaeval Florence. - - - "He owns only his mental vision. But this is clear and broad of - range--as broad, indeed, as that of Dante, Milton and Goethe, - sweeping beyond the horizon of eschatology and mounting, like - Francis Thompson's, even to the Throne of Grace itself when the - theme demands reverential daring." - - --STANDARD AND TIMES, PHILADELPHIA. - - - MANHATTAN AND BRONX ADVOCATE - 1712 Amsterdam Avenue, New York. - - THE SECOND REVISED EDITION - - - - _Copyright, 1921_ - BY - EDWARD DOYLE - - - - -CONTENTS - - - - PAGE NO. - - The Quality of Edward Doyle's Work, by Ella Wheeler Wilcox 7 - True Nationalism, by David Klein, Ph.D. 9 - Genevra, Review In the Independent 12 - Dedication to the Daughters of the American Revolution 13 - The Proem 19 - The Atlantic 20 - Human Freedom 20 - The Stars 21 - The Genesis of Freedom 21 - The Pilgrim Fathers 23 - Plymouth Rock 23 - The Catholics in Maryland 24 - A Forest for the King's Hawks 24 - To Arms Shouts Freedom 25 - British Soldiery 25 - Amphibious Barry 26 - Freedom's Triumph 26 - Washington's Army and Barry's Navy 27 - The Sunken Continent 27 - Elisha Brown 28 - Evacuation Day 28 - Manhatta 29 - The Burning of Washington City by the British 29 - The Land of the Great Spirit 30 - The Blight to Spring 30 - The Scorn of Human Rights 31 - Not This Our Country's Glory 31 - America's Glory No Fugitive 32 - Hate Thou Not Any Man 33 - The Celtic Soul Cry 34 - British Glory in Kipling's Boots 36 - To the English People 36 - Shakespeare 37 - England's Righteousness 37 - The Massacre of the Welsh Miners 38 - A Dirty Work 38 - Human Nature 39 - Our Country--Soul and Character 39 - Juda and Erin 41 - The Easter Rising in Ireland 41 - The Fight in Ireland 42 - To Erin 42 - The Queen of Beauty 43 - Liberty the Light to Peace 43 - Why Play with Words, England 44 - Freedom's Wardens 44 - List to Demosthenes, If Not to Hearst 45 - Caledonia 45 - Canada 47 - Dragon Incursions 51 - All Stars Merged in One 52 - Nemesis 52 - Lincoln's Lightening in Wilson's Hands 53 - The Cataclysm 54 - An Epoch's Angel Fall 54 - The America of the Future 55 - The Inevitable 56 - Reptiles with Wings 57 - The Outlaws in Our Country 58 - The Press 59 - The Truth 59 - Our Lord's Last Prayer 60 - Thought Is Truth's Echo 60 - Heaven 61 - Humility 61 - The Night of Mysteries 62 - What the Poets Show 62 - The Soul's Ascension 63 - Lyric Transport 63 - The Sunrise 64 - Two Darknesses 64 - The Doom of Hate 65 - The Evil in the World 65 - The Earth Renewed by Memory 66 - In the Dimple of Beauty's Cheek 66 - The Camp Fire 67 - Mother 67 - In Heaven No Heart Still Heaves 68 - Saint Peter's Cathedral in Rome 68 - My Bugler Boy 69 - Kaiser, Beware 69 - Woman in Germany 70 - O Thou Pale Moon 70 - The Tiger 71 - To Our Boys "Over There" 71 - The Profiteers 72 - Why the Stars Laugh 72 - Prayer for the World Peace 73 - Religion 73 - The Golden Jubilee of Sisters of Charity 74 - Winifred Holt, the Lifesaver of the Blind 75 - A Choice 75 - All Luminaires Have One Trend 76 - Life Takes Morning Hues with the Arts of Peace 76 - U. S. Senator James A. O. Gorman and the Stalwarts 77 - Minister of Justice Palmer, A Bastile Builder 77 - A Speck, But Not a Stain, Harvard 78 - Supreme Court Justice Charles L. Guy 78 - Rear Admiral Sims 79 - Saint George and the Dragon 79 - -[Illustration] - - - -[Illustration] - - - - -THE QUALITY OF THE WORKS OF EDWARD DOYLE - - -The quality of Edward Doyle's work was appraised by Ella Wheeler Wilcox -in the following article by Mrs. Wilcox which appeared in the New York -Evening Journal and the San Francisco _Examiner_, in 1905: - - -Shut your eyes and bind them with a black cloth and try for one hour to -see how cheerful you can be. Then imagine yourself deprived for life of -the light of day. - -Perhaps this experiment will make you less rebellious with your present -lot. - -Then take the little book called "The Haunted Temple and Other Poems," -by Edward Doyle, the blind poet of Harlem, and read and wonder and feel -ashamed of any mood of distrust of God and discontent with life you have -ever indulged. - -Mr. Doyle has been blind for the last thirty-seven years; he has lived -a half century. - -Therefore he still remembers the privilege of seeing God's world when -a lad, and this must augment rather than ameliorate his sorrow. - -He who has never known the use of eyes cannot fully understand the -immensity of the loss of sight. - -I hear people in possession of all their senses, and with many -blessings, bewail the fact that they were ever born. - -They have missed some aim, failed of some cherished ambition, lost some -special joy or been defeated in some purpose. - - -A GREAT SOUL - -And so they sit in spiritual darkness and curse life and doubt God. But -here is a great soul who has found his divine self in the darkness and -who sends out this wonderful song of joy and gratitude. - -Read it, oh, ye weak repiners, and read it again and again. It is -beautiful in thought, perfect in expression and glorious with truth. - - -CHIME, DARK BELL - - - My life is in deep darkness; still, I cry, - With joy to my Creator, "It is well!" - Were worlds my words, what firmaments would tell - My transport at the consciousness that I - Who was not, Am! To be--oh, that is why - The awful convex dark in which I dwell - Is tongued with joy, and chimes a temple bell. - Antiphonally to the choirs on high! - Chime cheerily, dark bell! for were no more - Than consciousness my gift, this were to know - The Giver Good--which sums up all the lore - Eternity can possibly bestow. - Chime! for thy metal is the molten ore - Of the great stars, and marks no wreck below. - - -I know a gifted and brilliant man in New York who is full of charm and -wit in conversation, but the moment he touches a pen he becomes, as a -rule, a melancholy pessimist, crying out at the injustice of the world -and the uselessness of high endeavor in the field of art. - -When urged to take a different mental attitude for the sake of the -reading world, which needs strong tonics of hope and courage, rather -than the slow poison of pessimism, however subtly sweet the brew, my -friend responds that "The song and dance of literature is not my special -gift." And he is obliged to "speak of the world as I find it." - -He is an able-bodied man, in the prime of life, with splendid years -waiting on his threshold to lead him to any height he may wish to climb. -But to his mental vision, nothing is really "worth while." - -What a rebuke this wonderful poem of Edward Doyle's should be to all -such men and women. What an inspiration it should be to every mortal who -reads it, to look within, and find the =Kingdom of God= as this blind -poet has found it. - -Mr. Doyle was in St. Francis Xavier's College when his great affliction -fell upon him. He started a local paper, The Advocate, in Harlem -twenty-three years ago and has in the darkness of his physical vision -developed his poetical talent and given the world some great lines. - - -AN INSPIRATION - -Here is a poem which throbs with the keen anguish which must have been -his guest through many silent hours of these thirty-seven years: - - -TO A CHILD READING - - - My darling, spell the words out. You may creep - Across the syllables on hands and knees, - And stumble often, yet pass me with ease - And reach the spring upon the summit steep. - Oh, I could lay me down, dear child, and weep - These charr'd orbs out, but that you then might cease - Your upward effort, and with inquiries - Stoop down and probe my heart too deep, too deep! - I thirst for Knowledge. Oh, for an endless drink - Your goblet leaks the whole way from the spring-- - No matter, to its rim a few drops cling, - And these refresh me with the joy to think - That you, my darling, have the morning's wing - To cross the mountain at whose base I sink. - - -But Edward Doyle has not sunk "at the mountain's base." He is far up its -summit, and he will go higher. He has found God, and nothing can hinder -his flight. He is an inspiration to all struggling, toiling souls on -earth. - -As I read his book, with its strong clarion cry of faith and joy and -courage, and ponder over the carefully finished thoughts and beautifully -polished lines, I feel ashamed of my own small achievements, and am -inspired to new efforts. - -Glory and success to you, Edward Doyle. - - ELLA WHEELER WILCOX. - -[Illustration] - - - - -TRUE NATIONALISM - -(_From the "Maccabaein", June, 1920._) - - -THE JEWS IN RUSSIA - - - From town and village to a wood, stript bare, - As they of their possessions, see them throng. - Above them grows a cloud; it moves along, - As flee they from the circling wolf pack's glare. - Is it their Brocken-Shadow of despair, - The looming of their life of cruel wrong - For countless ages? No; their faith is strong - In their Jehovah; that huge cloud is prayer. - - A flash of light, and black the despot lies. - What thunder round the world! 'Tis transport's strain - Proclaiming loud: "No righteous prayer is vain - No God-imploring tears are lost; they rise - Into a cloud, and in the sky remain - Till they draw lightening from Jehovah's eyes." - - -The author of this superb little gem, like Homer, is blind; but, like -Homer, his mental vision is clear, and broad, and deep. President -Schurman, of Cornell University, commenting on Doyle once said: "It -is as true today as of yore that the genuine poet, even though blind, -is the Seer and Prophet of his generation." The poem here printed -illustrates the point. Did we not know that it was published some -fifteen years ago in a volume entitled "The Haunted Temple," we should -assume that it was written on the occasion of the fall of the Czar. In -fact, however, it merely foretells this event by some dozen years. And -how terribly applicable are the lines to the facts of today! The -prophecy is one capable of repeated fulfillment. - -But it is as a prophet of nationalism that this man compels our -particular attention. The prophecy is embodied in a play entitled "The -Comet, a Play of Our Times," brought out as far back as 1908. The play -is a microcosm of American life. The chief character is a college -president, and he it is that is chosen to expound the true nature of -nationalism and to give voice and utterance to the principle of -self-determination. (Is it merely a coincidence that at that time -Woodrow Wilson was President of Princeton, or is it a case of poetic -vision. Wilson, be it remembered, was already a national figure, and -there were already glimmerings that he was destined to usher in a new -era in politics.) According to the protagonist, America is not "a -boiling cauldron in which the elements seethe, but never settle," but -rather a college where every class is taught to translate-- - - "Into the common speech of daily life - The country's loftiest ideals--" - - -and any body of citizens form a part of our republic only in so far-- - - "As they contribute to its character - As leader of the nations unto Right - By thought or deed, in service for mankind." - - -We must lead the peoples of the world to freedom. And what is freedom? - - "'Tis intelligence - Aloof from harm and hamper, grandly circling - Its native sun-lit peaks, the highest hopes - Heaved from the heart of man upon the earth, - In ranges long as time and soul endure." - - -What, then, is America's duty to the oppressed race or the small nation? -It is to "wake and disabuse it of false hope"-- - - "and urge it on - To the development of its own powers, - The culmination of its own ideals, - The star seed sown by God,--the only means - By which a tribe can thrive to its perfection." - - -To make this possible, civilization must be given a more human content. -It is therefore necessary to awake human intelligence, "the godlike -genius," to a realization of the fact-- - - "--that, on having brought - This world from out the chaos dark - Of waters and of woody wilderness, - And shaped it into hills of hope for man, - Must providence its beautiful creation - With altruistic love and tenderness; - So that all tribes of man, what'er their hue, - Have each a hill where it can touch the star - That it has followed with its mental growth." - - -Such a program is rendered imperative by the inexorability of the law -of race, which nullifies any attempts to force assimilation: - - "It is a foolish, futile thing - To try to shape society by codes, - Vetoed by Nature. Nature trumpets forth - No edict, through the instinct of a race, - Proclaiming certain territory hers - And warning all encroaching powers therefrom, - Without the ordering out of her reserves - To see to it the edict is enforced. - Let politics keep off forbidden shores." - - -If any powers preserve in a policy of oppression, our duty is plain: - - "To teach the barbarous tribes throughout the globe, - Christian or Turk, that all humanity - Is territory sheltered by our flag; - That butchery must cease throughout the world; - That, having ended human slavery, - Old glory has a mission from on high - To stop the slaughter of the smiling babe, - The pale, crazed mother, weak, defenseless sire, - All places on the habitable globe." - - -Finally to render feasible the ideal development of all peoples, and -put an end to war, America must bring about a league of all nations. -It develops on us-- - - "To get the races by degrees together - To talk their grievance over, in a voice - As gentle as a woman's.... - There is no education in the world - Like human contact for mankind's advance; - All differences, then, adjust themselves; - But when two races are estranged by hate, - They grow so deaf to one another's rights, - That it soon comes to pass that either has - To use the trumpet of artillery - In order to be heard at all." - - -Recently, Doyle wrote the following lines. Their application is obvious: - - "Vault Godward, Poet. What though few may climb - The mountain and the star on trail of thee? - Thy wing-flash beams toward man, and if it be - True inspiration--whether thought sublime, - Or fervor for the truth, or liberty-- - Thy light will reach the earth in goodly time." - - -What wonder that from so lofty an outlook his searching eye should -pierce the tragedy of "The Jews in Russia"--or elsewhere--should pierce -even the revenges that Time would ring in, and rest on a vision of -righteous peace! - - DAVID KLEIN, Ph.D. - -_AUTHOR OF LITERARY CRITICISM, from the Elizabethian Dramatist._ - - - - -GENEVRA - -(_From the "Independent," May 30, 1912._) - - -The scene of Mr. Edward Doyle's new play is the Florence of 1400; -the atmosphere that of a plague stricken city in a time when man was -helpless, authorities hopeless, social life in shreds and patches. The -plot of the play founded on this state of affairs is rich in incident, -varied and sufficiently complex in color, passion and character to -furnish material for an exciting spectacular representation. The -tragic element is strong, but supported and shaded by the company of -roysterers, a jester, whose foolery is a compound of bluff of that -period and bluff of modern politics and athletics. The jester, the black -company and the penitents, together with the roysterers, form now the -foreground, now the background, of action, which in itself is never -without the dolorous sound of the death bell. The doomed city is under -a spell comparable to that set forth so vividly in Manzoni's "I Promessi -Sposi." Says the villain of the plot as he listens from his seat at the -festive board: - - "It bodes ill for the black Cowled company - To make a visit to a festive house. - 'Tis like death looking in and whispering 'Next.' - Fool, call the servants. Bid them fetch the wine-- - A cask of it--the best varnaccio! - Here come my friends to help me drown the Plague." - - -Pictures like this as sharply defined are frequent and throw in shadowed -blackening on shadow. The author defends the use of a meteorological -phenomenon translated in the spirit of the time as supernatural by -quoting Dante as recognizing it, but the authority of Dante was not -necessary to justify the dramatist in introducing the "Crimson Cross." -It was a part of the pyrotechnics of the church propaganda. Though the -advance of scientific discovery has laid a heavy hand on thaumaturgy -of the sort, it would no doubt, have its use when properly handled -on a modern stage. The action of the drama is rapid and natural, the -characters well drawn and individualized, the dialogue spicy, forceful -and varied. - -Price $1.00. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - -DEDICATION - -TO THE DAUGHTERS OF THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION - - -I - - What lineage so noble as from Sires, - Laureled by Freedom? For, who, but the brave - Have glory to transmit? The Hero's grave - Blooms ever. It is there the spring retires - To dream to flowers, her heart and soul desires, - When winter's whitening wind, like wash of wave, - Sweeps mauseleums of the skulk and knave - From mounts of glare off to Oblivion's mires. - - The bloom, for which mere wealth lacks length of arm, - And fainting Time takes for reviving scent, - Fame, with bright eyes from heart and soul content, - Forms wreaths for Valor's Daughters--crowns that charm - Not with death-smells from Human welfare rent - But breath of Country's rescue from dire harm. - - -II - - Those crowns, not cold from death sweat on the brow, - At sight of apparitions with fixed stare, - But warm with summer, conjuring beauties rare-- - Wilt not. They are dewed daily by your vow, - Daughters of sires who, to no thrall, would bow! - Which, at the alter with raised hands, ye swear, - Cheering the blessed spirits, gathered there, - That, like their Mothers, are their daughters now. - - True women--and therefore, craft foilers clever-- - With sons for your hearts utterance, ye sue - Not, but like Barry to the British crew, - Ye cry out: "What! we strike our colors? Never! - Fie, shot! fie, Gold! these colors, since they drew - Their first star-breath, are God's, and God's forever." - - - Ye know the Leopard changes not his spots. - The Prince of Peace, who spake eternal truth, - Confirmed this fact of Nature. He, with ruth - Omniscient, saw afar, the scarlet clots - Of English nature, in profidious plots - For conquest, mangling not alone brave youth - With teeth set, but old age without a tooth, - And Mothers, clutching up their bleeding tots. - - Oh, yea, this beast makes his own desert, still; - And Ireland, India and Egypt show - His spots so spread, he is one ghastly glow; - Aye, as your sires saw him from Bunker Hill. - Oh, vain, gold rubs the skin and press shouts, "Lo! - It has not now one spot of threatening ill." - - -IV - - O Daughters of the brave, well ye abjure - The fiend and all his works. Ye know his smiles - Are fire-fly flare at gloaming, lighting miles - Of snake-boughed forests down to swamps, impure - From mind and soul decay; hence are heart-sure - That creed and racial hatreds are his wiles, - For God is Love, and Love draws, reconsiles, - And is the strength that makes our land endure. - - O Mothers, as you lift your babes and gaze - Into their eyes, your love runs through their vains - In crimson flushes--oh, your love that pains - At any of God's creatures hurt! that stays; - The heavens may pass away, but that remains, - Being of Christ, who walks earth Mother-ways. - - -V - - Oh, like your sires, you, too, know Freedom's worth - To Human Spirit. For its liberation, - A God unrealmed himself by tribulation, - And was an out-cast on a scornful earth. - Christ is no myth and, since with Human birth - He forms new Heavens for blissful habitation-- - There unto is the Freedom of the Nation; - All other trend is down to dark and dearth. - - When from the darkness rainbowed birth comes pouring, - Your virtue heeds the voice, Eternity-- - Re-echos: "Let them come." 'Tis Nature's plea - For broadening progress; Nay, 'tis God imploring - The Human to take strength for Liberty, - Truth, Honor, to catch up to the stars, a-soaring. - - -VI - - O Daughters of brave sires, what is true glory? - No marsh-ward falling star, however bright. - 'Tis inspirational; its upward flight - Lifts generations--such your Father's story, - And also yours, for is not that, too, gory? - You pour out your hearts blood in sons to fight - For honor, and cease not till every right - Has been set down in Triumph's inventory. - - Oh, into daughters, too, old noble Mothers! - You pour out your hearts blood that, in your place, - They may fill up the ranks and, as in case - Of Molly Pitcher, man guns for their brothers, - And hearten firm, the trembling human race - To know, though brave men fall, there still comes others. - - -VII - - If Christ's foreshadowing in Juda's haze - Was of his grief, 'tis of His triumph, here, - For, is not His celestrial glory clear - In Freedom for all men? First, gaseous rays - In Maryland, then rounded firm full blaze - In the Republic, it draws every sphere - Of Human welfare, whether far or near, - From depths occult to nights with dawns and days. - - The Freedom of the Generation's longing - Reflects Lord Christ in glory, hour by hour, - With more distinctness, as you, with His power, - Free heart and brain from every brother-wronging, - And give your offspring, these, as flesh and dower, - To live and lead the millions, hither thronging. - - -VIII - - Oh, ever Mothers--shaping robust youth - No less than infant, and as perfectly! - There's life blood to their veins from when on knee - To when thy battle, from your broadening ruth - For Human kind and fervent love of truth. - If, like their fathers, they have come to be - The wonder of the world, for liberty, - Your virtue, 'tis, that in their valor greweth. - - Oh, as the Roman Mother, when she showed - For jewels, her two sons, saw each of them - In Time's Tiara, glittering there a gem; - So, see your offspring shine. The light, bestowed - Your Fathers, in your sons is diamond flame, - Encircling Freedom's ocean-walled abode. - - -IX - - Is it Apocalyptic Vision, when - White-winged Columbus swoops from Spain's palmed shore - And, from dark depths, lifts at San Salvador, - A continent, adrip with streams which, then, - Become the fountain of the Psalmist's ken, - Where Right the heart, from hoof to horn foam-hoar - From craggy speed, slakes thirst, and, evermore, - Comes Hope's whole clattering herd?--you chant, "Amen." - - Aye, for your sires made earth this new creation - Where, from San Salvadore and Plymouth Reef - To Westward Mission Trails, ascends belief - In God and, therefore, in the Soul's Salvation - Through Freedom, in white, spiral spray which grief - Sees, spite earth-mists, or solar obscuration. - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - -SONNETS - -FREEDOM, TRUTH AND BEAUTY - - - - -THE PROEM - - - Soar thou aloft, though thou ascend alone, - O Human Spirit! Thou canst not be lost. - What though yon stars, the azure's nightly frost - Melt dark, or mount round thee an arctic zone! - Thou hast sun-warmth and star-source of thine own. - If thou mount not, how bitter is the cost! - What anguish, when whirled down, or tempest tossed, - To know how high toward God thou mightst have flown! - - Vault Godward, Poet. What though few may climb - The mountain and the star on trail of thee? - Thy wing-flash beams toward Man, and, if it be - True inspiration--whether thought sublime, - Or fervor for the Truth, or Liberty-- - Thy light will reach the earth in goodly time. - - - - -THE ATLANTIC - - - Forming the great Atlantic, see God take - The mist from woe's white mountain, spring and stream, - The breath of man in frost, the spiral lean - From roof-cracked caves where, though the heart may break, - The soul will not lie torpid, like the snake,-- - And battle smoke. On them He breathes with dream - And, Lo! an Angel with a sword agleam - 'Twix the Old World and New for Justice's sake. - - What sea so broad, as that from Human weeping? - Or Sun so flaming, as the Angel's sword - Of Human and Devine Wills in accord? - There, with sword-flash of myriad waves, joy-leaping, - Shall loom forever, Freedom's watch and ward, - With the New World in his Seraphic keeping. - - - - -HUMAN FREEDOM - - - This is thy glory, Man, that thou art free. - 'Tis in thy freedom, thy resemblance lies - To thy Creator. Nature, which, tide-wise, - Is flood and ebb, bounds not sky flight for thee. - Lo! as the sun arises from the sea, - Startling all beauty God-ward, thou dost rise - With mind to God in heaven, from finite ties, - And there, in freedom, thou art great as He. - - Meeting thy God with mind, 'tis thine to choose, - Wheather to follow him with love and soar, - Or dream Him myth and, rather than adore, - Plunge headlong into Nature's whirl and ooze. - Thine is full freedom. Ah! could God do more - To liken thee to Him, and love, infuse? - - - - -THE STARS - - - God loves the stars; else why star-shape the dew - For the unbreathing, shy, heart-hiding rose? - And when earth darkens, and the North wind blows, - Why into stars, flake every cloud's black brew? - What fitter forms for longings high and true, - Man's hopes, ideals, than bright orbs like those - Asbine from Nature's dawn to Nature's close, - In clusters, prisming every dazzling hue? - - Nor is the Sun with harvests in its heat, - And that, sky-hidden, makes the moon at night, - An earth-ward cascade for its leaps of light, - More real, or a world force more complete, - Than Faith and Hope, that brake through clouds with sight - Of evil's foil and ultimate defeat. - - - - -THE GENESIS OF FREEDOM - - -I - - O Freedom! Born amid resplendent spheres, - And, with God-like creative power, endowed, - Hast thou, to human life's blue depths, not vowed - A splendor, not alone like that which 'pears - At present, where the upper asure clears, - But that the Nebulae will yet unshroud? - I hear thy far off cry where thou art lone, - A John the Baptist: "Lo! one greater nears." - - What is this Greater--this which is to meet - The planets and ascend high, high and higher? - The right of human spirit to aspire - And mount, unhampered--and by act, complete - Creations harmony, as by desire, - Proclaimed by brain with throb, by heart with beat. - - -II - - In thy descent through azures, all aglow - With circling spheres, the beauty of each blaze, - And grandeur, then, of all, entrance thy gaze. - Thou thinkest, why not thus all life below? - Perceiving, then that all the breezes blow - Upward and onward, in the skyey maze, - Thou wouldst go back and start with them, to raise - A new creation from chaotic throe. - - Thou seest plainly that without that breeze, - The breath of God, all that thou couldst create, - Were lifeless, save to turn on thee with hate, - And chase an age with grim atrocities; - But with that breath, thou couldst raise life to mate - The Planet's splendor, in the azures Peace. - - -III - - O Freedom! as thy sister spirit, Spring, - Pausing above the earth, sees every hue - Of her prismatic crown, reflected true - In forests and in fields, and fledgling's wing, - So thou dost see thy spirit glorying - With faith, that man is more than Nature's spew-- - In human spirit that, from beauty drew - First breath to know that soul is more than thing. - - O Freedom! fain we follow thee in flight - From chaos to God's glory round and round, - Aloft! how like an elk pursued by hound, - To brinks thou springest toward the distant height - And, on bent knees, then speedest without sound, - Like Faith through Death, till, lo! thou dost alight. - - - - -THE PILGRIM FATHERS - - - "Ye Wreaches, who would lay proud England's head - Upon the block, and raise her features, then, - Bloodless and ghastly, for the scorn of men! - Begone forever. Go where terrors spread - Their sea and forest mouths to crush you dead. - Oh, how the clouds shall crimson from each glen, - A roar with blaze, and flame search out each fen, - If back to us, yea e'er are vomited." - - To this Parental blessing and God-speed, - The Pilgrim Fathers gladly made reply: - "These waves are Conscience's wings along the sky; - They carry us to God, whose call we heed. - The further from thy coast of hate and lie, - The nearer God. On! On!--that is our creed." - - - - -PLYMOUTH ROCK - - - O Sun and Stars! bear ye Earth's thanks to God; - For Oh! what waters, slaking every thirst - Of heart, mind, spirit, in long cascades burst - From Plymouth Rock, when struck by Freedom's rod! - No wanderer in the burning sand, unshod, - Plods man with lolling tongue, dog-like, as erst; - For lo! this fountain, deepening from the first, - Floods Earth's old wells and greens Life's sand to sod. - - Oh, more those waters than the Font of Youth, - For which, through field and swamp, the Spaniard ran! - For they are clear with God's eternal truth - Of fatherhood, hence brotherhood of man, - And are no dream. They quench all human drouth - And cleanse man's desert dust of sect and clan. - - - - -THE CATHOLICS IN MARYLAND - - - Of Expeditions in the Arctic Past, - All honor to the one that reached the pole - And formed a settlement where every soul - Enjoyed full freedom. There above the blast, - How musical the bell, by Justice cast! - It welcomed all to come. It ceased to toll - After a while, but why? Those, welcomed, stole - And dragged it where the ice formed thick and fast. - - Of Arctic Expeditions there is none - So profitable to the human race - As that toward Freedom's pole, and hence men face - All storms to reach it. If they fail, the sun - Has but one joy--to thaw out wrecks, and trace - Man's progress where alone it can be done. - - - - -A FOREST FOR THE KING'S HAWKS - - - Say, what is Ma-jest-y without externals? - Is Burke's analysis not right--"A Jest"? - Ah, but a jest, at which the poor, oft pressed - To their last heart-drop, laugh not, like court journals. - The King needs coin, and, where he sowed no kernels, - Wants the whole forest for his hawks to nest - And breed in, and became an annual pest; - In this the farmers show that they discern ills. - - Hark! blares the tyrant's horn and, in a thrice, - The Tories gather. Eagerly they band, - For is the King not greater than the land? - And rows with royalty, a rabble's vice? - Besides, what creeping tribes at his command, - And Spies and Hessians at a ferret's price! - - - - -TO ARMS SHOUTS FREEDOM - - - To Arms! shouts Freedom to her sons. Behold! - How, like Job's war-horse, they gulp down the ground - To battle! What care they how foes surround? - Oh, joy to Celts, nigh half the true and bold! - There, with the roar of all their wrongs uprolled - From ancient depths, they dash with billow-bound - Up rock and summit, and through cave and mound, - Spurning both Tyrants' steel and Treason's gold. - - No tide are they to ebb in heart and spirit. - If dashed back, they return with all the force - Of six dark sea's momentum on its course - For vengeance on the vile, who disinherit - The human-being--shut off every source - Of happiness, or let but Serf's draw near it! - - - - -BRITISH SOLDIERY - - - The wounded Sidney, who despite his thirst, - Gave water to his comrade, shines, a lamp - In the Cimerian dark of Britain's camp. - Even the Raleigh, who so finely versed, - Preferred to such a light, the flame accursed - Of sword and torch, to please a royal vamp. - Is British triumph in its world-wide tramp - The Hell, still "lower than lowest"--Milton's worst? - - Lord Christ! is British soldiery the swine, - In whose gross forms the fiends, exercised, flew? - Oh! watch them through the ages, they pursue - The noble and devour all things Divine. - Look! they illustrate horrors, which prove true - The Hell, which Milton's glimpse could not outline. - - - - -AMPHIBIOUS BARRY - - - Look! Freedom glares and pallid as a ghost, - Except for gashes on her brow and breast, - And faint from hunger, sits awhile to rest. - Amphibious Barry, bold on sea or coast, - Mounts and spurs darkness to the Tory Host, - And, like an Indian rider with head prest - Down to his steed's hot neck in prowess test, - Plucks from the ground, a prize he well may boast. - - Oh, as the sun's smile passing through the rain, - Shines forth a double arch, so, Barry's deed, - Refleshing Freedom's bones made gaunt by need, - Shines through the Ages; aye, and shines forth twain-- - Both for America, from Britain Freed, - And Erin, still choked black in Britain's chain! - - - - -FREEDOM'S TRIUMPH - - - With France and Erin heartening Washington, - Prone Freedom rose, with head above the cloud. - Beholding her transfigured, Thrall is cowed. - His minions are bewildered. How they run! - Some follow him against the rising sun; - Others plod north. The Torries' vaster crowd - Hide in dark places, and like Satan, proud, - They hate the glory, that the true have won. - - O Milton! Thou beheldest them. Thine ear - Caught their defiance and thy lightening pen, - In shattering the dark in evil's den, - Caught hope amphibious from leer to leer - Of those grim shadows, plotting to regain - Lost Paradise, or bane its atmosphere. - - - - -WASHINGTON'S ARMY AND BARRY'S NAVY - - - Who loosed our land from Britain's numbing hold? - "They who had naught to loose," the Tories say; - That is--not menials in the King's sure pay, - Nor mongrels, chained to guard their master's gold. - They were True Men. Their spirit, young and bold, - With dreams played follow-master, climbing day - From deepest night, to catch the Sun and stay - His glory for the World, then whiteing cold. - - Though darkness be far vaster than the lamp, - It is the beams that lead to progress, count. - "To manhood, with the virtues to surmount - Such darknesses as Valley Forge's camp, - And seas, deep hell's sky-reaching, broadening fount, - Honor!" The ages shout on Triumph's tramp. - - - - -THE SUNKEN CONTINENT - - - When hurled from heaven, 'tis thought, the fiends of pride - Caught Earth to brake their fall. The regions gave - And sank with all the hosts beneath the wave! - 'Tis in those sunken regions which divide - The new world of the resolute and brave, - From the old world of king and abject slave, - Where Torries, counterfeiting Satan, hide. - - Clinging, like lava, to a lifeless limb, - They think the phosphorescence of the bark - Is morning, which the long-belated lark - Is hastening to welcome with his hymn; - Else, they form poisons and breathe from the dark, - Miasma mist to make the sun-rise dim. - - - - -ELISHA BROWN - - - Old Guard of Boston! Halt; Right Face; Attention! - Order One: quell the weeds in rankest riot - Where lies Elisha Brown, in conscience, quiet. - This Brown was John's precursor. Ye, on pension - For ancient glory, now do duty. Mention - Elisha's name for countersign--and why, it? - Because with him, wrong, seen, was to defy it, - And act, else, was beyond his comprehension. - - Against his home's invasion this man held - A red-coat regiment for seventeen days, - Which was a spark to help start freedom's blaze - And, therefore, Order Two: the weeds all quelled, - Stand sentries till a statue takes your place - And throngs shout, "Bravo, Brown!" as 'tis unveiled! - - - - -EVACUATION DAY - - - What is it that today we celebrate - With school recital, banquet and parade - Of our achievements, pageanting each trade? - The ousting of the English--train and trait-- - And posting, then, sharp-eyed, eternal hate - To watch with Josuah's son above his head, - That night come not to help them re-invade, - However wide, we swing our ocean gate. - - If not un-Englishing America in mind - And heart forever, vain the shrieks - Of Freedom, eagling back to dawn's first streaks. - Oh, yea, the sun stands, and the night afar - Holds Thrall, whose craft would swamp our noblest peaks - And leave but bubbling mud show where they are! - - - - -MANHATTA - - - Manhatta! Glory flings his arms round thee - And proudly holds thee in his high caress. - What charms him, Mother, is thy nobleness - Of spirit. How his features beam to see - Thy scorn dash in the bay the tyrant's tea, - And hear thee call to Boston: "Do no less; - Else on sunlight, heart, soul--all we possess-- - Will tyrant's next exact their deadly fee." - - In thee I glory. Can the world else boast - A harbor, like thy heart, for every sail - In flight from sea-toss, white with horror's gale, - Or icebergs from despondence Polar coast? - Oh, fleets whose throngs, glad Freedom well may hail; - For, landing, they became her staunchest host. - - - - -THE BURNING OF WASHINGTON CITY BY THE BRITISH - - - With what wild glee, the British set on fire - Yon Capital, beholding in its flames, - America, robed in her deeds and fames, - In death throes at the stake of England's ire? - Though that was long ago and, then no pyre, - The stake still stands; 'tis Anglo-Saxon claims, - And Arnolds, bearing infamy's last names, - Tilt schools to raise the stake flames high and higher. - - Oh, sight to strike the coming ages dead, - My country, were a cloud, thy mocking crown, - And schools, ignited by Truth's lamps hurled down, - To feed that cloud, like craters, inly red! - What! mock with cloud, Thy land and sea renown - And Washington, God's Holy Spirit--known - By the unerring World Light, that it shed? - - - - -THE LAND OF THE GREAT SPIRIT - - - Behold Ye Here the Happy Hunting Grounds, - Where the Great Spirit, called Democracy, - Sets every heart and soul forever free, - An Equity, not royal grant, sets bounds. - No Phaeton attempting Phoebus rounds - And burning up earth's grass and forestry, - Is lust for power; 'tis love for liberty, - With bloom and birds for wheel-sparks, here resounds. - - It is the land of Spirit. "Ye who enter, - Abandon first all fratricidal hate," - Proclaims the edict, blazoned o'er each gate. - There see all tribes chase truth to joy--the center - Convexing broad and broader, as more great - Their numbers from where prejudice is mentor. - - - - -THE BLIGHT TO SPRING - - - Hark, 'tis the sea! How leonine its roar! - But, oh, how more the lion on a height, - As there he glares and listens for the night, - Having devoured day's clouds from shore to shore! - Now grows his mane of billows, high and hoar. - What scents he? Potencies escaping sight, - Till, like the cold, they icily alight - Upon a land where all was spring before. - - The sun darts under earth and east again, - What sees he? First the lion at earth's brink - With head down to the stream of stars to drink; - And then, arising to his zenith ken, - Sees that which makes his high, warm spirit sink-- - The blight to spring, blown here from England's fen. - - - - -THE SCORN OF HUMAN RIGHTS - - - What is the blight to spring that kills the seed - And raises spectres, so that stars cry "See!" - Aghast at forests, white or shadowy? - The scorn of human rights, that can but lead - The world from doom to doom! and for what mead? - A bronze for rain and rust, or effigy - For nibbling minutes--ah, not hours!--these flee - To life's progression--truth and kindly deed. - - Look! How this scorn holds freemen in the dark, - Except for a flare at will that, then, the throng, - Reduced to dust, may rise and whirl along - The lift and drop of glitter, without spark - To set the spring a-crackling with bird song, - Till bud and angel both come out to hark! - - - - -NOT THIS OUR COUNTRY'S GLORY - - - O Country of the Sun's warm plenteous hand - To every germ of virtue, how below - Thy progress, mope Gold Mongers to and fro, - Who think they're vaulting from sunlight so grand, - It forms thy chiefest glory. Closely scanned, - They are gross worms, each with the thought to grow - "The Conqueror," as staged by Edgar Poe - For darking planets and a world, Last Manned. - - Those worms that, moving, think they move the earth, - Or, under Growth's equestrian statue, think - They hold the horse and hero from the brink, - Are pitifully not a glance's worth, - As of thy glory; they but foul the chink, - If not of thee in warming Good to birth. - - - - -AMERICA'S GLORY NO FUGITIVE - - -I - - How weird a whisper! 'tis from Wallabout. - 'Tis glory hoarse with calling: "Raise those hulks - Where writhe my faithful." See! the tory skulks - Behind the sun who, stooping to fill out - Their throats with his god-breath, to swell the shout - Of a free people, finds the brave in bulks, - Strewn and held fast where Darkness, beaten, sulks - That thrall has been forever put to rout. - - Those mangled thousands are not dead; they live, - Refashioned men by freedom. Is the tory - Behind the sun, to mock me, who am Glory, - Being the lifted life those martyrs give? - He creeps beneath the sun and, ghastly gory, - Crys out: "Thou yet shall be the fugitive". - - -II - - Oh, weirder grows the whisper into word, - As sharp as lightening, and as broad of reach, - As seas, flung down by God to every beach - Where thirsts a sparrow, or a bleating herd! - There is no soul through out the land, not stirred; - For, oh, to glory God gives his own speech - When darkness, raised by Gold, declares that each, - Hulk-held, is good but for the wolf and bird. - - Is Gold grown conscious, now the Country's King - That, at his beck, the blood for Freedom spilt - Shall be accursed, and I, then, for the guilt - Of dropping not with thud, as he with ring - At Darkness' feet, be shut in mud and silt - Forever and with stars, cease, beaconing? - - -III - - Oh, as the earth in discord and in dark, - When struck by Love on high with will for mace, - Keeps rattling till each mote finds its true place, - And mountain, fledged with groves, vies with the lark - To reach the sunrise; so the madness stark - Of gold, dethroning blood as God's best grace, - When struck by Glory's voice drops Nadir-base, - And blood for Freedom spilt, forms heaven's blue arc. - - The shouts of millions shake Oblivion's mire - And raise Thrall's Hulks. Look! Justice's stooping sun, - Seeing in agony's each, a Washington, - Breaths life in them, and, over Brooklyn's spire - And New York's Babel Tower, they, one by one, - Hold Liberty's broading Torch of quenchless fire. - - - - -HATE THOU NOT ANY MAN - - - Hate thou not any man, for at the worst, - He still is brother. Will a glance not find - Whole peoples alchemied from heart and mind - To steal projectiles by a craft, accursed - By Human Nature? Aye, for, as they burst - At dusk, or midnight, slamming Heaven behind - And crashing Hell wide open, 'tis mankind - Is shattered and quick-gulping grave slake thirst. - - Hate thou no man, but scorn all crafts, that smelt - The heart and mind for huge projectiles, shattered - When bursting grandly that some pride be flattered. - Nature beholds not Saxon, Slav, nor Celt; - She only sees the Human fragments scattered, - And, covering them, her eyes to rivers melt. - - - - -THE CELTIC SOUL CRY - - -I - - O Freedom! Have I ever been untrue? - When, to thy moan of hunger anywhere, - Have I been deaf? Was I not quick to share - My little, nay, give all! for oh! I knew - Thy beauty, and my love such passion grew - At thy distresses,--What would I not dare! - So, though the bellow, like a grizzly bear, - Reared up before me, on to thee I flew. - - O Freedom! Is thy beauty without heart, - Or sense of justice? Unto whom art thou - Indebted for thine arm, encircling now - The world, sun-like, more than to me? My part - I glory in, for I have kept my vow. - I hold thee now to thine, if true thou art. - - -II - - Speak Freedom! When a haggard fugitive, - Thy dwelling was a swamp, who first to trace - Thy crimson footprints to thy hiding place? - With signs thou hadst not many days to live, - I found thee. Had the sun more heart to give - To warm thee, than I gave? Ah, then and there - Thy heart said to my heart; "Ill would I fare - Without thee. I give love for love, believe". - - Thy silence, when in glory, troubles me. - Oh! warm blood dashed back cold, chills to the bone! - What do I ask for? Only Erin's own, - That which God gave her, and, if true it be, - Thou art the minister of justice grown, - Thy gratitude should thunder God's decree. - - -III - - What! Why bemoan one island in the sea, - When I can range like mountains, or, the sun, - Above all clouds, and, rosy from my run - To God, like morn, chant praise, since flesh of thee? - Oh, yea, my pride and transport, verily, - Is, thou and I eternally are one; - And this god-passion which no power can stun, - I owe to her, who gave her soul to me. - - Oh, when I see her golden hair, adrift - On sorrow's sea, like weeds rent from their reef, - And know she breathes with her sublime belief, - It crazes me that thou, when thou mightst lift - Her saintly features, and dry them of grief, - Wads't not, but waitest for the tide to shift. - - -IV - - America! 'Tis not thy mines of gold, - Nor streams from mounts to meadows, like God's hand - From out the heavens, a-flash across the land - In long, deep sweeps to quicken winter's mould - To reaps of ripeness,--that mine eyes behold, - Invoking thee; for these are mere shore-sand - To the broad ocean of thy spirit grand, - Forming for man a new world for the old. - - 'Tis Liberty, to whose most blessed birth - The stars all lead, rejoicing, which souls thee - With God's compassion for humanity,-- - That I invoke; and, now, when all the earth - Bears palms and chants hosannas--what! shall she, - The most devout, be shut from Freedom's mirth? - - - - -BRITISH GLORY IN KIPLING'S "BOOTS" - - - All English glory is in "Kipling's Boots." - O English People! read that poem true, - And answer,--are those maddening men not you? - Oh, not yea few, who gather all the loots, - But yea vast legions, lured to be recruits - To march, march, march and march with naught in view - But boots, boots, boots with blood and mud soaked through,-- - And, after ages, with out rest, or fruits! - - "Boots, boots, boots, and no discharge from war,"-- - That is the Empire's anthem. Brass it out, - Ye Orchestras! But oh, leave not in doubt - Its import, Kipling,--that 'tis maelstrom roar-- - 'Tis England's streams of home-life, world about - And down a gulf, for Greed and Pride on shore! - - - - -TO THE ENGLISH PEOPLE - - - If deaf to Shelley's loudest sky-lark strain, - His rage at tyrants, and to Byron's thong, - Nerve-proof, how wake the English to the wrong - Done their true selves, no less than to the slain, - When willing weapons for Ambition's gain? - Aye, weapons only; for, to whom belong - The minds of England, and treed fields of song-- - Nay, all but grave-ground, grudged by hill and plain? - - O English People, whom the crafty class - Has huddled into graves from sight and sound - Of what God hands you, and, with pence, or pound, - Lids down your wild dead stare,--wake! why so crass? - See in the Celts spring-burst from underground, - The Human Resurrection come to pass. - - - - -SHAKESPEARE - - - Oh, what are England's lines of lords and kings, - Shakespeare, to thine, a-throb with thought and feeling? - In thine, imagination shines, revealing - The soul's convictions, swift on dawn-ward wings - From beastly life and such Hell-smelling things, - As wealth and pomp from church and abbey stealing,-- - And hearts in hopes high Belfries, Heavenward pealing, - As Time, his Sun and Starry censor, swings. - - Would thou wert England's Nature, Bard Supreme, - To fashion kings and lordlings fit to rule; - They would be flesh and blood, not fiend and ghoul; - And would thou wert her Sun, that every beam - Might not, for tally, show a youth's blood-pool, - Choking blithe Spring, as, now, to earth's extreme. - - - - -ENGLAND'S RIGHTEOUSNESS - - - The righteousness of England! "Tis to kneel - Full weight on weaker nations, and entone - Hosannas louder than the victims groan; - Then, stooping, drink their blood with gulps of zeal." - What right have wounds, though wide, to throb, or feel? - 'Tis blasphemy to England's crimson throne. - Knee-deep in Erin's blood, she mocks Christ's moan: - Forgive them, Lord! they know not their true weal. - - "Whose is the fault? Tis not my arrogance, - But candor, Lord, that puts the blame on Thee. - What right hadst Thou to make these people free - And let all nature prompt them to advance?-- - Oh, no such blunder, Lord, hadst Thou called me, - Instead of Wisdom, to approve Thy plans!" - - - - -THE MASSACRE OF THE WELSH MINERS - - - The Bard's curse: "Ruin seize thee Ruthless King," - Took bat-like form for hollow echo-flight. - Though stoned and lanced at, when, at fall of night, - It darted forth with ghastly--spreading wing, - It found in fresh, wide, royal ravishing, - New hollows, dark with horror and sad plight, - To dash in and live on. Oh, to my sight, - How grows its grimness, while eternaling! - - Deep are the minds of Wales, but far more deep - The horror, gulfed out by McCreedy, firing - On men defenseless and, through want, expiring. - Oh, from that gulf the Bard's curse makes a sweep - Up to the Sun and, from its long desiring, - Grown eagle, shrieks to heaven from steep to step! - - - - -A DIRTY WORK - - - "A dirty work," said Dyer, rebuked for spilling - Hundreds of lives to irrigate new lands. - A dirty work, but not for British hands, - Dabbling in blood to earn each day their shilling. - Hark! Mohawk Valley and Wyoming, chilling - With thought of Tarleton's King-serving bands, - And Canada red-clayed, though high snow stands, - Cry: Work for which the British are too willing! - - Invaded lands need terror irrigation - To make them fruitful. Better flood the field, - Then let the native bloom become the yield; - And, so, this Dyer submerged a small whole nation - With crimson death, that England might, deep-keeled, - Have for display, new seas of desolation. - - - - -HUMAN NATURE - - - The ocean, holding pure the azure's blue, - Laughs at the tempests, with one empire's dust - After an other, to round out Earth's crust. - Ah, so does Human Nature hold the hue - It takes from heaven, its conscience, and laughs, too, - At madness, wrecking life and with its gust - Forming new islands, where Pride, Greed, or Lust, - Welcomes the crater's glare, in sun-light's lieu. - - Look in the sea and deep, what scattered rock, - The islands which at dusk, the tempest piled! - Ere rose a star, they sank with crews, beguiled. - O Tempests that with world formations, mock - The good Creator, how, as ye grow wild, - Earth quakes and no live thing survives the shock. - - - - -OUR COUNTRY--SOUL AND CHARACTER - - -I - - Our country is not rock and wood and stream, - But soul transfusing them. What is the soul? - The substance, born of God, above control - And, when one, with God's love, called "Will," supreme; - And Freedom is the soul in thought, and dream - That Nature's beauty and harmonious whole-- - God's foot-steps--followed, life attains its Goal; - And soul is purpose to achieve God's scheme. - - The soul, then,--our true country,--is the brave - Who fought and bled for Freedom, or will fight - To their last pulse, last breath, for Human Right.---- - Great soul! oh, how like bubbles in the wave, - Are the Sierras in cerulean flight, - To thy true grandeur, letting nought enslave! - - -II - - O thou art Character--art only those - Who formed the good and great by thought, or deed. - All others are not worth a moment's heed,-- - Mere prairie dogs, who raise gold hills in rows-- - When gazing at thy glory; for that grows - With Freedom from all foul untruths; with lead - In art for weal; with science for all woes; - With hate of thrall and help for all unfreed. - - No mere foot-shadow, on time's wall, art thou, - Without eye-sparkle, swing of arm, warm flow - From heart to vain, and cheeks with health of glow. - Oh, 'tis eternal heights reflect thy brow - And shoulders, that avert man's overthrow, - Threatened all times, and never more than now. - - -III - - Oh, what if lone and long thy lofty flight, - My country? Is thy vision not as clear - As that of Vesper, dauntless pioneer - On Twilight's altitude? As from that height, - He sees plain through the thick black walls of night, - The stars all massing; so dost thou, his peer, - Behold all peoples gathering, year by year, - To scale the clouds to thy White Range of Right. - - How thy lone loftness, aloof from wrong, - Refracting man-ward, God's enrapturing smile - Of fruitful fields, leads legions! On they file - And phalanx, and the vision makes thee strong: - What, though God's searchlight flares the sky the while? - It nears not thee, ear-close to heaven's high song. - - - - -JUDAH AND ERIN - - - From out a desert where the trails run red, - Judah and Erin speed their camel pace, - Sighting green palms. The flush on either face - Is from the fissure where each wedged her head - From sandstorms, that hurled heavens down, as they sped; - It is no blush for thought, or conduct, base - To the high trust to bring the Human Race, - Truths, without which Time's offspring are born dead. - - In spirit, they are sisters; for, beyond - The desert, where the vision, like a dove, - Soars round the palace of Almighty Love, - God hails them as "My Daughters, true and fond, - Who show man, through Noon blaze, my star above, - And to my will, fail never to respond." - - - - -THE EASTER RISING IN IRELAND - - - Who, in descent from Heaven's ecstatic throng, - Was twin to light, and ranged from source to sea, - And shore to peak, and God, drew up to thee - The generations happy, pure and strong? - Freedom, as Erin's was, ere ruthless wrong - Caught, scourged and hanged it on the out-law's tree; - And is; for lo! it proves Divinity, - Transfiguring from anguish, ages long. - - True, they have strangled Freedom on the cross - Of every Right's suppression--nay, have barred - His body's tomb, and placed a host on guard! - Still, He is risen; His faithful mourn no loss. - He shines forth in their midst. No bolts retard - His entrance, where grand aims for life engross. - - - - -THE FIGHT IN IRELAND - - - The fight in Ireland is 'twixt Man and Brute. - A lion with the sea-surge for his mane, - Is there hurled back by Man with proud disdain, - Although heart-drained with gash from head to foot. - Oh, in that Eden of Forbidden Fruit, - How Satan, searching for a snake in vain, - Fumed forth a monster from his heart and brain-- - The Lion--as the serpent's substitute! - - Oh, all ye peoples of the World draw nigh! - Stand on the bodies of eight centuries, - Struck dead with horror; for, raised thus, one sees - In Erin, torn, a soul that cannot die, - And that its struggle is Humanity's - Against the fiend, who would give God the lie. - - - - -TO ERIN - - - How help take pride in thee, whose golden hair - Of culture trailed the earth for centuries; - Whose throne was freedom and whose realm was peace; - And, in strange lands, whose joy and only care - Were to spread light, and who, not anywhere - Thy charm made headway, planting liberties, - Didst, then, by stealthy step, or creep on knees, - Sow with the lilies, faster-growing tare! - - How help love thee, whose hand, raised to the sun, - Glows rosy, and not red with murder's stain? - The angels kiss it. Force can forge no chain - To drag thee false-ward. Like a holy Nun, - Stigmated, how thy faith grows with thy pain-- - Aye, till thy Cross, like Constantine's has won. - - - - -THE QUEEN OF BEAUTY - - - In rapt, roused Erin, who does not behold - A Venus, rising from the sea of tears, - Up to her native, Earth-illuming spheres? - Her hair, long matted, is a flow of gold - Which even the Sun might wear and feel not cold; - And, oh, her heavenly smile at doubts and fears, - As when she, at all depths, raised to her ears, - Shells of her Glory, murmuring, "Be bold!" - - Lo! where the green and orange morn unfurls, - See Erin rise. How shine her golden tresses! - They form her crown, for trailing rocks down whirls, - And reaching all the under-sea recesses, - They draw about her brow, the rarest pearls-- - Love for what frees and hate for what oppresses! - - - - -LIBERTY, THE LIGHT TO PEACE - - - All hail to those who, through the stormy night, - Make Liberty the light on Erin's coast; - Who, ceaseless, send up sparks; who hold their post - On each and every ledge of Human Right, - Forming a beacon blaze from base to height - Where Erin's hope may steer and land its host. - Look, Human Nature! Where else canst thou boast - To the eternal stars, so grand a sight? - - Look! How men there ennoble human kind - By making Liberty the light to Peace! - All other lights are false. Oh! who but sees - In the unconquerable Celtic mind - That, even in Time, there are Eternities-- - Love, true to Right, and Will no wrong can bind! - - - - -WHY PLAY WITH WORDS, ENGLAND? - - - Why play with words? There never can be peace - Till Ireland is set free. One might as well - Expect the great Arch-angel rest in Hell - And genuflect to Satan's blasphemies, - As Erin's spirit that, for centuries, - Has been aloft with God in virtue, sell, - Like Esaw, her birthright, and not rebel, - But to her home's invaders, bend her knees. - - Her spirit is no norbury Banshee-- - To wail and, then, to vanish. She will stand - With lifted flambeau, lighted by the hand - That lights the stars, till she again is free, - Inspiring normal man in every land - With love of Freedom, by her scorn of thee. - - - - -FREEDOM'S WARDENS - - - Look! British fury that, barraging, lights - Up Irish skies, like pathways down to hell, - Doubles its fire to reach our land as well, - Where Freedom's Wardens cry from justice' heights: - "'Tis Deicide to murder Human Rights. - Stop foul God-slaughter where to not rebel, - In order to develop and excel, - Were God in man, succumbed to age-longed blights." - - Where Heavenward rose the God in man of old, - Staunch stand these Wardens. Sleepless, they behold - Each turn of England's Evil Eye. They call, - When she would form the fulminate of gold, - A thumb and finger-pinch of which, let fall, - Might blast Columbia's peaks to slit of thrall. - - - - -LIST TO DEMOSTHENES, IF NOT TO HEARST - - - Of all the fulminates, gold is the worst, - Which England, aeroplaning, now, lets drop - By day and night, in bank, press, church and shop, - Timed to the minute that it is to burst. - List to Demosthenes, if not to Hearst, - Sublime Republic! Lest thy great heart stop, - Shocked by the blast of Freedom's every prop, - And bats and owls in dwellings, Human's erst. - - "Watch Macedon. She drops her gold, in creeping - Beneath free Athens' sky-ascending stair. - Watch her with glance of sword. Oh, watch, for where - She sows her gold, she comes with scythes for reaping! - Is Athens in ascent with sun-light flare, - To come down ashes, not worth history's keeping?" - - - - -CALEDONIA - - -I - - In only Wallace and Paul Jones and Burns, - Does Caledonia, child of Erin, show - His mother's features, lit by soul to know - The Right Divine of freedom, when it yearns - For what exalts the human, or, it spurns - What bars its flight to truth--all stars aglow, - That form God's trail to joy for man below?-- - Sole trail, as time, who peers through grief, discerns. - - O Caledonia, by thy Burn's brave song, - And deeds of Wallace and Paul Jones for Right, - Thy mother knows thee in the dark of night, - And claps thee heart-close. She cries out: "Be strong, - Soul of my soul! though not a Boswell quite, - Still, be whole man! remember Glencoe's wrong." - - -II - - Wake, Caledonia! though Macauley, Whigging, - Would ward the flames from scarring William's face, - So that, then, Cain might shriek,--here, take my place, - A fugitive and outcast, with no digging - To hide in, nor a rest for my fatiguing; - The mark on me, is but God's finger trace; - On you, 'tis God's whole hand!--Still, there's the blaze! - There's England's soul of merciless intriguing! - - List! 'tis the bagpipes welcoming the guest. - See the assembly, dance and feast. Oh, watch - The open heart and flow of good old Scotch; - The English come, as friends, must have the best. - There, hospitality is at top notch,-- - And so is treachery in Britain's breast. - - -III - - The cock crows.--Is he dreaming? 'Tis dark still. - He crows again and now, from farm to farm, - His fellows echo far his dazed alarm - And flap of wings on fences. He is shrill - Because it is not dawn above the hill, - That wakes him, but the English, as they arm, - And murder sleep, that has no dream of harm, - In couch and crib,--to further England's will. - - O Caledonia! with such lamp in hand - As Glencoe's horror, thou hast England true. - Why let Froude fiction haze thy vivid view? - Put not thy light out for sound sleep, but stand - And answer, when the mother, whom thou drew - Thy soul from, cries "Glencoe"! when Black and Taned. - - - - -CANADA - - -I - - O Canada, Long red with cottage flame - From Britain's torch! thy blasts milk not the cloud - To nourish hope; instead, they spread the shroud - On Human Spirit answering Freedom's claim. - Whence comes the cold which icicles with shame, - Thy heart's Niagara, that should thunder loud - Unto thy far off soul in sorrow, bowed - O'er Papineau, whom Thraldom could not tame? - - Now following the Friends, who grandly led - The slave through tunnels to the Northern Star, - To find, in freedom, richer bloomage far, - Than the Magnolia o'er the cattle shed,-- - I reach thy soul,--where now the Crawfords are, - And learn the cold is not from manhood dead. - - -II - - Whence comes this cold to Freedom's claim? we know - Only too well,--from creatures of the King, - Who had dragged Hell of every poisonous thing - And, through our country, had spread waste and woe. - Beaten at last, they flocked like carion crow, - On the dead body of their will to sting, - Which drifting Northward, and enlargening, - Loomed Dante's Nimrod, 'mid the Arctic snow. - - There, with the reptile's hate of Man Upright, - As God created him, and reptiles veins, - Aflow with deaths cold blood--for that sustains - The life of tyrant and of parasite-- - This monster, though half sunk in Hell, remains - High, still, above the Arctic's shuddering night. - - -III - - The monster's inhalations empty Hell - Of all deterents to Life's flow and flower; - Then, its outbreathings icily devour - The cataract in flight and, down the dell, - The streamlets to delight, and buds, as well, - Of virtue, forming bloom for Freedom's bower;-- - Nay, its out breathings,--through Creed hatred's power-- - Grow Boreus and face where freeman dwell. - - Lo! with Sun-warmth for Truth and Human Right, - Is Boreus met. Who hurles him down the deep? - Look close;--'tis Gladden who, on Freedom's steep, - Is as inspiring, as, on Andes' height, - The great Christ Statue, bidding Rancor sleep - And Life's diverging rays in love, beam Light. - - -IV - - The cataracts wild leap, turned glittering ice - In shame's suspension, and crow souls afeeding - Upon a huge dead body and fast breeding,-- - Is, as a scene, not worth the railroad's price; - But, oh, if, with "Excelsior" for device, - Thou climb thy Alpine way, each day exceeding - The other's height, what throngs would watch thy speeding - And, for the thrill thou woulds't give them, come twice! - - O Canada! why all this sleigh-bell rhyming? - 'Tis on the reindeer, hope, in speed with me - To the grand morning, when thou shalt breathe free - Upon the apex of thine Alpine climbing, - From foulsome, choaking smells of tyranny, - Thick from the Great Sea Serpent's inland sliming. - - -V - - God said to Wrong: "No further shalt thou go." - This, Monroe heard and held, then, in his heart. - It was this he repeated, when on chart - He made his markings, checking Freedom's foe. - God never grants to Wrong the right to grow; - Because He sets its bounds, does not impart - His blessing on its growth, more than its start; - His blessing goes to Right, to overthrow. - - Oh, let thine eyes for migratory flight - Speed southward! Passing Prejudice's Lake, - Green-crusted with stagnation which some take - For verdure, they will see from Andes' height, - How Freedom's battle forms the red day-break, - And tides are swells from thrall, hurled deep from sight. - - -VI - - Thine eyes returning from the Southern Cross, - Will, when like Perry, they have reached the Pole, - Search under it to find thy banished soul, - O Canada, and tell it of thy loss - In letting a foul dead body, which the moss - Of the deep sea should hide, loom as thy whole - And rule, as dead things rule, with death for toll, - As pierced by Papineau through Glamor's gloss. - - From South to North, no sky is black but thine. - Thy fecund brain, the Borealis, shows - A swaying disc with shades of dark for glows, - With but a faint salt smell of Color's brine, - The pent-up billows in the disc's dark close, - Which might flood midnight with rare, world-wide shine. - - -VII - - We seek no annexation, but of Mind, - Heart, Spirit. True, thy clear, sonorous voice - At Freedom's class-call, would make us rejoice, - For, then, close-coasting thrall would fail to find - In the new world, one truant to mankind, - Swimming out to the foreigners' decoys, - Or fast asleep amid his infant toys, - Instead of at the task, which God assigned. - - Oh, let thy spirit come, but it must be - Along the star-way to the rising sun-- - The way of love; not down creed hates that run, - Like broken stone-steps, to a roaring sea-- - The way thou oft, hast come. Rise, and be one - On the new world's Star-top of Liberty. - - -VIII - - "The Angels come in dreams," says Holy Writ; - And Science says, "No sleep so deep, but dreams." - Devine appearances with brightening gleams - Toward Paradise up from the demon's pit, - Ever rouse virtue; aye, for God redeems - His fire, wherever hid; the tempest teems, - But still his sparks fly, quick as flint is hit. - - Wake, Canada! and let thy Papineaus - Be dreams remembered; yea, let them inspire - Thy life to follow Freedom high and higher - Through Rights' whole range of summits, crowned with snows - Sparkling from star-moulds of the Soul's desire, - On earth from Heaven where, clouds from flames, they rose. - - - - -DRAGON INCURSIONS - - -I - - O Freedom! whose pure soul and heart embrace - Translates me into heaven, I draw for breath - The joy of angels who have not known death. - Child-like, I look up in thy loving face, - Else gaze around and point, and curious place - My hand on Mottoes, hung on high. One saith: - "Beware, for he not with me scatterith." - Its meaning comes to me with growth, like grace. - - Ah, as a youngster, on its mother's arm, - Seeing a hideous thing approaching night, - Will not lay down its head and shut its eye, - But will with look and lung express alarm-- - My mind cries out in dread--when sea and sky - Show dragons, tendencies that work thee harm. - - -II - - O Freedom! Up to whose raised hand the seas - Leap, playful lions, or with head and main - Across their paws lie couchant--it is pain - To see thee whose heart beats are God's decrees, - And vital breathings are infinities, - Now check thy heart and hold thy breath to gain - The smile and plaudit of a depths with bane - In finger tips, while fawning on their knees. - - What! Think the tyrant, whose great soul is trade, - Whose history, a crater, belching black - And lurid, keeps glad Easter morning back - From half the world--loves thee save to invade, - As blackward planned? loves thee, along whose track - March Human rights up to the stars parade? - - - - -NEMESIS - - - There where the Tyrant long has loomed, wreck-crowned, - Are young and old hurled to the coast and blast. - Frail are their ships; still, Sun, why glare aghast, - Watching the billows monstering around? - The soul of man was not born to be drowned. - It mounts and mounts, till, at God's throne, at last, - And freedom welcomes it with arms, sky-vast, - As down it comes to meet Thrall and confound. - - O, deathless spirit, born of hosts sea-hurled, - Who hast out soared night's stars with agony's cry - For justice! Thou hast come down from the sky, - Heralding doom to Thrall, whose flag unfurled - By steel, or craft, shows, as 'tis hoisted high, - The blood of man and ruin of the world. - - - - -ALL STARS MERGED IN ONE - - - What is the Truth? The thought, the act, or cry, - Recasting the Supreme Intelligence; - All else is false. Look! where are stars so dense, - That each has not the freedom of the sky? - And, still, what peace, what glory, reigns on high! - What! with the wisdom of the heavens, dispense? - The Peace, for which our longings grow intense, - Comes through the stars to earth, and but thereby. - - What splits dark mid-night and gives earth a thrill? - All stars merged into one--our Country's aim. - It is a lightening, formed by God, to flame - Across the ages and flash bolts to kill - The stranglers, who the heart or spirit, main, - Or choke black in the face, a People's Will. - - - - -LINCOLN'S LIGHTENING IN WILSON'S HANDS - - -I - - Who is to rise and hurl God's flame world-wide, - As Lincoln hurled it, setting free a race - From Sphinx-shaped wrong--a beast with human face? - That shattered, how our land rose glorified - And, from the stars last laggard, soared, their guide! - Oh, who can take Promethean Lincoln's place, - To bring light where-so-ever he can trace - A Human, with his rights to soul denied? - - He must be one, not only to illume - All ages, and not leave one region dim, - But at no height, allow his senses swim, - Or let mirages lure him with false bloom. - Lo! Here one comes with all the virtues prim - To hurl God's fire and end all human gloom. - - -II - - 'Tis Wilson takes God's flame from Lincoln's hand. - This Princeton man,--who has outgrown the prince, - A hundred years, and, in the ocean since, - Seen with delight, Eternity expand - And loom in glory from the despot's strand,-- - Shapes fourteen dazzling bolts without a wince. - He pauses. Why not hurl them and convince - The world that, hence-forth, not one thrall shall stand? - - What! Wilson's arm lacks strength to hurl the flame, - God gave to Lincoln for the Human race? - Look! Look! it falls. What! Gone? Quenched by dark space? - No; it describes an orbit there, the same - As comets, and regains its heavenly place - For one to hurl it true, and doom Earth's Shame. - - - - -THE CATACLYSM - - - In Wilson we beheld and proudly hailed - The World's Deliverer. In him, we saw - A luminous being rise from earth and draw - All lands above the clouds. We were regaled - With justice cascades flow, long ice impaled - Upon high mountains. Was not Nature's thaw - From his heart heat for truth, Eternal Law? - His was the heat of all the stars, he scaled. - - Though his ascension was like Christ's, sublime - With lift of continents and every isle, - He, less than Christ, succumbed to Demon Guile. - Oh, God, that he should drop his mountain climb - Below sea-level, and let earth the while, - Fall back and settle in Primeval Slime! - - - - -AN EPOCH'S ANGEL FALL - - - Judging from Wilson's virile virtue-voice, - Whose whisper hushed Earth's Hum, were we not proud - To have him cross the sea to speak aloud - And, with a finger raised, hush battle noise, - And lift all lands to Justice's equipoise? - Oh, such his truth to God,--so oft avowed,-- - A spirit thund'red from a luminous cloud: - "This man crowns Lincoln's work. All Men! Rejoice." - - Oh, had he read his bible where St. Paul, - Grown man, put off child things--or, had not smiled, - When told, strong Ego oft, is man grown child! - Look! Who sees not an Epoch's Angel Fall - From hope for earth, in Wilson's truth, beguiled - By second childhood's toys to play with thrall? - - - - -THE AMERICA OF THE FUTURE - - -I - - Our Country still is in the womb, dark Time. - It shows life by its brisk and robust turns, - Which thrill the Mother, Liberty, who yearns - To see her man-child born. Oh, how sublime - With genius, not of one, but every climb - Where art forms beauty, or the spirit spurns - The foul and spurious,--her desire, that burns - Prenatally in him, to form him prime! - - Oh People, all--Italian, Spanish, French, - Dutch, English, Irish, German, Jew, and Greek-- - What see you, as you climb the Future's Peak? - Oh! no illusion. What looms there, shall wrench - From life, all monsters out from Hell, to seek - Dead consciences and plague earth with their stench. - - -II - - Ascend, O Land of every Creed and Race! - Not thy full image, in New England's brook, - Nor in the South's lagoon; though there, a look - Delights us with thy chubby, infant face. - 'Tis seas of joy, that shorelessly replace - The Ocean which, in time of old, forsook - The prairies for the cloud, or spring in nook,-- - That show thee, Grown, through God's abundant grace. - - From East to West, how joy's high seas expand, - Reflecting, not a foolish, mundane pride - That, thinking it does all, sets God aside-- - But Virtue which, with heart and head and hand, - Works out God's purpose, with dear Christ for guide, - And holy spirits Light to understand! - - -III - - All Virtues from the longing of the soul; - From wisdom, gained by sorrow through long ages; - From inspiration of the bards, in rages - That inter-marrying maniacs control - A people's life, and drain its sea to shoal, - And from the vision of sky-topping sages, - Gasping for breath from rot in all its stages,-- - Aye, these and new-born Genius loom there Whole. - - Look, People! Little less than God's own size, - Your virtues merge and, with speed God-ward, burn, - An unconsuming sun, that at no turn - In spiral flight, for still a grander rise, - Lets night advance where human Rights still yearn, - Except with great, new stars and dawning skys! - - - - -THE INEVITABLE - - -I - - Behold two fleets, the one with woe for trail, - The other, rapture. As they sight the strait, - Through which but one can pass, Greed, urged by Hate, - Drives Thraldom's crafts with help of steam and gale. - They feel their way. The guns, with which they hale, - Raise jets, that look tall elms from Hope, the gate, - To Peace, the Palace; then, their speed is great, - Manoeuvering fast to head off, or assail. - - Drawing the sea up for his driving steam, - Greed breaks all mirrors in his grand state room, - That show him dark inevitable doom, - Close hovering, and exults: "I am Supreme. - When seas lack water for my funnel fume, - I bid life send its every crimson stream." - - -II - - What! in the darkness lowers boat after boat - From Freedom's fleet, and each with lightening oars? - Treasons to God and country are the rowers. - They are the Gold and Hireling Brain, that gloat - On conscience body with face down, afloat. - Why hail they Greed, to run on menial chores - From deck to deck, or to and from all shores? - Why? To ensure the payment of a note. - - Meanwhile, brisk Freedom's fleets with justice manned, - And cosmic full momentum for their speed, - Confront the crafts, fired up by fiendish Greed. - A clash and--lo! they pass the strait and land, - Leaving in smoldering heaps, like autumn's weed, - The hulks of thrall along time's vultured strand. - - - - -REPTILES WITH WINGS - - - Are lust for Gold and Power not hideous spawn - Of prehistoric reptiles, that had wings? - Where e'er those crawled, they chawed all greening things - And, when they mounted, how their lengths, full drawn, - Basked barren in the sun before the dawn, - Absorbing all its rays from budding Springs? - These drain life's dawn and by impoverishings, - Draw and reduce to pulp, frail Consciences. - - Oh, yea, bewinged with legislative crime, - They bask in sunlight e'er the east sky greys, - And drag the soul of man from God's embrace - Of rights and freedom. Oh, how long a time - Shall reptiles, deadly to the Human race, - Be let grow wings and heavenward trail their slime? - - - - -THE OUTLAWS OF OUR COUNTRY - - -I - - The outlaws in our country are the wretches, - Who wreck the legislatures with their gold, - And with the ruins, form a high stronghold - To sally from, to what good nature fetches - From God to man. What though fine graphic sketches - In magazines show them with shoulders bold - Against the nights flood-gates of dark and cold? - All effort is but life in death-throw stretches. - - They are the outlaws, who stop Nature's train - And take its corn and coal for selfish use; - Then, put their shoulders to Night's gate, to loose - Its hinges for a forty-day dark rain, - To drown all life, that they, like Noah, may cruise - Through thick drifts of the dead in heart and brain. - - -II - - O heart and brain, who see the father load - His train with food, not for the few, but all, - And hear train-whistlings in March winds, jay call - And ground-hog sniffs! Haste out, for from the road - That leads to every Industry's abode, - The trust that, bat-eyed, comes out at night-fall, - Now moves the tracks inside his private wall, - Claiming all trains from God a debt long owed. - - O heart and brain, it rest with you, how long - The legislative wreckers shall prevail. - Ye have the power to balk them. Why then, fail? - Regain your legislatures. Man them strong - And drive thence all sleek hounds, trust-trained to trail - Safe outlaws' paths to fastnesses of wrong. - - - - -THE PRESS - - - Was ever such unblushing harlotry, - Such sale of virtue in the Market place, - As by the Press? The red paint on her face - Is Degradation's mark. Alas, that she, - Born to bring forth the truth, still, is so base, - She kills her child and, then, to hide all trace, - Cracks bone by bone to dust, too fine to see. - - O Press, poor harlot of the tyrant, Gold, - What freedom, but from truth, hast thou to boast? - Hark, who now speaks is murdered Truth's pale ghost: - "Conceiving life--oh, bring it forth! aye, hold - Thy child on high with love, as priest, the Host! - Crush not its bones, with smile and eyes set cold." - - - - -THE TRUTH - - - What is the truth? The focus of all rays - Passing through Nature and the soul and mind. - It is the Sun of Suns, around which wind - The Heavens and all the worlds. Such is its blaze, - That had it not, at intervals, a haze, - Grading both Angel and the Human-kind, - The bright Arch-angel would be stricken blind, - To grope in Heaven, a Homer, sighing lays. - - What less could fitly crown Omnipotence - Than Truth, the focus of all rays in Good? - Lo! there it shines upon the Holy Rood, - Breaking through clouds, a-massing dark and dense - From countless ages, Cains to Brotherhood-- - With rays of pardon for the World's offense. - - - - -OUR LORD'S LAST PRAYER - - - "Forgive them, Sire! They know not what they do."-- - Ah, Christ! how at that face to face God-plea, - The Demon and his legions, mocking thee - With every generation, brought to view, - Flashed with dismay, and, boltless lightening through - The ages, thunder down Eternity, - 'Till faint as the sound in shells, far from the sea; - For that thy prayer would be vouchsafed, they knew. - - All grandeurs, gathered as a dazzling crown - For thee, in barter for thy knee's least bend, - The Demon dashed to fragments to Time's end. - There, born anew in spirit, we look down - And, in the ocean of thy prayer, Amen'd, - See but earth's monsters, with the demons drown. - - - - -THOUGHT IS TRUTH'S ECHO - - - Thought is truth's echo--not her glorious eyes - Beholding God, nor her white arms of light, - Lifted in worship. Following truth, our flight - At highest range is where our echo dies. - Oh all your power and beauty, earth and skys! - And, Soul and Mind! your Beauty and your Might-- - Truth gathers in one flash and, catching sight - Of God, lifts high in love's full sacrifice. - - Twixt Truth and Thought, what Truth is oft is space - Wherein, with intuition for her wing, - The soul mounts. It is there I hear her sing: - "Lo, Truth, so swift aloft, Thought dies in chase, - Turns earthward, and the gifts her white arms bring, - Are outshone by God's glory in her face!" - - - - -HEAVEN - - - Ah, what is Heaven? Such Glory that Sun-light - Seems darkness, and Mass Music, shell-shut sound. - What we call senses here, there so abound, - The soul appears a broadening heaven in flight, - Feathered and downed with all the stars, whose white - Is all hues mingled. Oh, the awe profound! - For every moment there, new Heavens astound - The myriad senses, with God's Love and Might. - - If "Holy, Holy, Holy, Evermore?" - Be the one chant of angel and of Saint - Before the Throne, it is their gaspings faint - Between their transports to high Heavens from lower; - For, what is love's eternal Firmament - But Heaven on Heaven, that we may ceaseless soar? - - - - -HUMILITY - - - Was not humility the Earthward stair - From highest Heaven, by which God came to men, - To show the way aloft to human ken? - Ah, by what other pass, are men to fare - Through mist and cloud, except the path, aflare - With his blest steps from Heaven, and up again? - Steps, not from star to star, but fen to fen, - That all might follow and not one despair! - - Oh, steps of Love! Could we reach with our eyes - Their fulgence, we would shrink back with dismay; - For, though 'tis through the world's contempt move they-- - Hark! How the hidden choirs of countless skies - Chant at all heights: "Lo, God comes by this way, - And makes world-wide, His stair to Paradise!" - - - - -THE NIGHT OF MYSTERIES - - - A cataract of stars, which, with each fall - Broadens and brightens, rapturing the sight - Of angel hosts, that view it from the height - Of knowledge of God's love for one and all - His creatures--and not darkness to appal - The spirit by the quench of every light, - For which God grants it vision--is the night - Of Life's strange mysteries, both great and small. - - Oh cataracts, beyond the angels' count, - Pause and shine pendant over every deep - Of heart, mind, spirit! Lo! how down they sweep - To basic Good where, massing, they remount, - Till, mid God's "Many Mansions," high they leap, - Forming forever, joy's most splendent fount! - - - - -WHAT THE POETS SHOW - - - When, at God's fiat, Light flashed forth, the beam - Evolved a million pigments, as it sped - To every nature. Now, of all its spread, - What shaft so glorious as the poet's dream - Which, mote and mass, reflects the Will Supreme - That life is progress, and by flight, or tread, - It circles God-ward up, till perfected! - For, harboring meaner thought were to blaspheme. - - What, if the world be chaos where it sins, - Race feuds, Creed hatreds, falsehoods gross, deceit, - Intrigue and greed, form swirling, blinding sleet? - Honor and Truth, though buried to their chins, - Look up and smile; for, though the storms still beat, - The poets show 'tis Spring, not Winter, wins. - - - - -THE SOUL'S ASCENSION - - - Not mine the night that creeps beneath Life's sea, - Or lurks within Hope's ruins, sunk below - The desert, or the stagnant pool--oh, no! - But night that mounts the heavens, till it is free - Where stars, prefiguring all things that be - Obscure on earth, catch sight of God and glow, - And golden shadows large and larger grow, - Cast by Gift-bearers to Humanity. - - Oh, once the cold of all the unsunn'd space - Was in my reptile life of soul, wing-bound; - But now, soul-free, what warmth from stars all round! - 'Tis not by strength of mine, Lord, but thy grace, - My soul soars from the depths of sea, or ground, - Till, at star-heights, it meets Thee, face to face! - - - - -LYRIC TRANSPORT - - - What but the spirit's ladder to God's throne - Is beauty? Oh, from rung to rung to climb, - Till faint becomes the azure's anthem chime - Of planets, multitudinous, or lone, - And Inspiration, drunk with fragrance, blown - From God's rare, inmost garden, wall'd from Time, - Sets free the Sonnet with is wings of rhyme - To carry down the transport, upward known! - - Mine is no swaying ladder, like he sea's, - Whose rounds of rollers, raised above Sun-rise, - Lean not on Heaven, hence shattered lie at noon; - For 'tis set firmly on the verities, - Which form God's throne. Ah, there, what joy, my prize! - Would that I had a dove for every boon! - - - - -THE SUNRISE - - - The Sun is God's great joy to Human sight. - Oh, up and off in chariots, Sea! and ride, - All generations, up, till mountain-eyed, - To welcome earth-ward, God's Supreme delight. - Imagination swirls in swallow flight, - Giddy with Beauty, deepening--Oh, how glide - From star to star, to the haloes, season-dyed - And countless! Its wings shrivel up like night. - - Oh, yea, the Sun in one subliming rise - From Wisdom's infinite mind! This Reason knows. - It has no set. There, Sense, with weals or woes - For beads, or fingers, count our shuts of eyes, - Excluding Knowledge. What! God's joy to close - And all its goodness break and drift cloud-wise? - - - - -TWO DARKNESSES - - - There are two darknesses; one where the Lord - Hides beauty--that by which men know His face. - All, in that darkness, feel His fingers trace - Their features gently, and their hearts record - The feeling, as of one, whose eyes, restored, - Would see, but for the Father's close embrace. - The other is the outer dark--a place - Where hate turns black the light upon it poured. - - O God! the only darkness that I dread, - Is where Thou art not--that where Hate's black fire - Surmounts the heavens, to burst with thunder dire - And, in its fall forever, drag the dead - Of heart and spirit--those whom Thy desire - Would fain have made the halo round Thy head. - - - - -THE DOOM OF HATE - - - A spirit passed the Sun, the Moon and Star, - And dwelled and dreamed in darkness all its own. - The music of the spheres, though thither blown, - As faint as fragrance from a flower afar, - Disturbed this spirit's ear, attuned to jar - Of orb with orb; for hate of light, truth known, - Fashions hot worlds which, cooled to clay and stone, - Clash, rising toward calm Heaven, which they would mar. - - Ah, if where love was not, he smiled elate, - His smile at God returned, a lightening flash - That shattered him. He saw his planets clash, - Burst and, then, by the downward law of hate, - Sink and leave not a single spark, nor ash, - For the new firmament he would create. - - - - -THE EVIL IN THE WORLD - - - There are two Gods--one, Good, the other, Ill. - They clash in Nature--so the Persian taught, - And long a sect in Europe spread the thought. - Why there is evil is a problem still - To many, who see not in Human Will, - A being that with beauty could have caught - Up to his Maker, had he gladly wrought - With light and warmth, instead of dark and chill. - - God said, "Let there be Light," and light was made. - God made not darkness--that is light's exclusion, - Forming a region where, in wild confusion, - Men, Nations, each a ferret, blood-eyed shade, - Worry each other, till, with disillusion - For lamp, comes conscience, crying, "God Betrayed!" - - - - -THE EARTH RENEWED BY MEMORY - - - Ah, in the angel-fall from Heaven, is hope? - The wing-whir discord of the legion's fall - From God forever, mocks my heart's loud call. - Empty of beauty from its base to cope, - The Earth is hollow. Where, then, can I grope - And not be met by echoes that appal? - What! shouts my mind, in wonder that I crawl - And, having skyey wings, in hollows mope. - - Does scent from bloom, or warble from the wood, - Not atmosphere the un-aerial void - Twixt thee and beauty, which thy youth enjoyed? - Fly back to earth, by memory renewed; - She fills the hollow, echoing hosts destroyed,-- - With Spring, reflecting Heaven's Triumphant Good. - - - - -IN THE DIMPLE OF BEAUTY'S CHEEK - - - O beauty! in the dimple of thy cheek, - My love could live forever and be blest. - There, with the sun, a rose-bud on thy breast, - How thou rejoicest, hastening to speak - To thy fond Father! Oh, how vain to seek - A sweeter refuge for the Spirit's rest, - Than mid thy blushes, when thou marvelest - At His great love, for, oh! thy heart is meek. - - Oh beauty! in thy Father's arms, thou art. - Enclose me in thy dimple; for, though this - Were but a bud, or molded seed, what bliss - To watch bloom gather scent, or new life start, - And hear our Father, bending for a kiss, - Whisper to thee, the secrets of His heart! - - - - -THE CAMP FIRE - - - Beauty is love and, hence is heightening fire, - Consuming Nature. All the dark can bring - To quench it, feeds it. Look! how everything - Is caught in the blaze, which mounts up high and higher! - Oh! truly, 'tis a vision to inspire - The soul with transport, more than joy can sing; - For, if not for the blaze, what cold would sting - Poor mortals, who crowd round it, nigh and nigher! - - Is beauty not the camp-fire, which one host - Leaves burning for another, close behind? - Yea, yea, the Powers Divine, O Human Kind! - Have left their camp-fire burning on the coast, - Where they embarked from glimpse of Human mind, - To give you warmth and light to hold your post. - - - - -MOTHER - - - All beings, legioning celestial light, - Moved in procession toward a vacant throne. - Their chant was faith and hope, as, now, our own. - At last, it came to pass, their faith grew sight. - They saw One Star in night's down-fall, stay white - And, by the Holy Spirit brighter blown, - Ascend in Heaven, till there, as high and lone, - As over Nature's marveling zenith height. - - Reaching the throne, its queen, this star became. - Awed by the Triune's Honor as her crown, - The legions, circling, soared with eyes cast down; - But, when their wonder heard the strange, new name - In Heaven, from Christ's lips, "Mother," how they shone, - Reflecting Christ's child-eyes, with love aflame! - - - - -IN HEAVEN NO HEART STILL HEAVES - - - Lo! God lets drop blue doves which ground the mind - Like clover; then, with drawing to the skies, - His pleasure is to watch the flocks arise. - Here, there, they mount; they show no cloud, no wind, - Can hinder homing; and the angels find - No transport, like the sight, for, to their eyes, - 'Tis more souls for the joy, which glorifies - The Father, traced to love by pigeon-kind. - - Oh, to his love, how great our spirit's worth! - Each is as all. In heaven, no heart still heaves. - The sun sinks with its last of lingering eves, - And, then, if dearest doves of azure birth, - Wife, parent, child, be missed, off mercy leaves - With stars for eyes, to search the darks of earth. - - - - -ST. PETER'S CATHEDRAL IN ROME - - - This temple is soul-startling. 'Tis to me - A thunder storm in stone, with Sinai flare - Across the Ages. 'Tis the Fiend's despair - And the Arch-angel's Triumph. It sets free - The mind and soul with certitude, Christ's key - Which, like the Sun, opes Heaven--the Good and Fair. - Still, oft, what darkness drowns the sun's noon glare - Within the Temple! 'Tis from Calvary. - - Oh, 'tis from Calvary's grief. 'Tis Christ's emotion, - On from the Cross, that from His glory known, - The German should have fled and, frantic, thrown - Away his soul to Strauss or Kant's vague notion, - Unhumaning, till, in the Kaiser, grown - A Neitche whirl-wind in a crimson ocean. - - - - -MY BUGLER BOY - - - With heart pain and with quiver of the lip, - I bid my boy "good bye," with words of cheer. - I hug him to my heart to hide a tear, - And hold him close so long, that no tongue-slip - Could more betray my bodings for his ship, - Or troop, when landed. It is when I hear - My daughters' voices, that I shame off fear - And take my boy's both hands with firmest grip. - - Go, son, and, though with thy young life 'tis blown, - Blare thou the Bugle, rousing man to sweep - The monsters back to Hell's profoundest deep, - Where, mocking Spring and Sun-rise, they have grown - On longings for the sea, the world must weep - When, from its heart, the hope of Peace has flown. - - - - -KAISER, BEWARE - - - Dost thou, mad Kaiser, for historic name, - Set fire to Europe? Is it joy to gaze - At blacker smoke than Etna's, and a blaze - That wakes up Chaos, wild to come and claim - The World, since Light, God-bidden though it came, - Has failed to dawn upon our human ways? - O Twin of Chaos! peer thou through the haze! - 'Tis Human Beings feed the crackling flame. - - Beware, the smoke, like Etna's, is the curse - Of widows on thy people-dooming throne, - And in no country, more than in thine own, - Cry out all mothers: "Wherefore bear and nurse? - To feed war with our sons, our flesh and bone, - That chaos may reclaim the Universe?" - - - - -WOMAN, IN GERMANY - - - The German mother has too long been what - A Chancellor once called the "Kingdom's Cow." - Ah, as she bears the droves for slaughter, how - Her dumb-beast eyes crave pity for her lot! - See, there she smiles, like loving God forgot-- - All His supernal patience on her brow. - How long must her grand arch of brain, as now, - Bear up a universe "of what should not"? - - There, lies she, crushed by troops in hot pursuit - Of mocking shadows; for be Gain complete, - What is it but twin brother to defeat? - Stand up the dead on any bloody route. - Stoop for no kiss from orphans, at thy feet, - O Triumph! for ash-cord is all thy fruit. - - - - -O THOU PALE MOON - - - O fair, full moon! I look close at thy face. - Thou must be happy, being in the skys; - And, yet, thy flush grows pallor to mine eyes. - Thou art as one, who breathless after chase, - Would rest, but dreads to check her onward pace. - O fugitive from where no fledgling flies, - No bee finds bud, and where red billows rise, - Engulfing down dark years, the Human Race! - - O thou pale moon, who hast companioned Man - Through every darkness since the night's first fall! - Hast thou, along thy foot-worn, azure wall, - Ever seen seas so hard for hope to span, - As this red surge, that in a spring so small, - A bird could beak it up, its flood began? - - - - -THE TIGER - - - How glares the tiger in his desert lair-- - Now half the world! Beholding with dismay - That Human Freedom is the tiger's prey, - A giant, down whose shoulders, broad and bare, - The long, thick, crimson flow is Sampson's hair, - Makes haste to clutch the beast. - Oh, how the clay beneath their struggle, reddens, night and day, - Till lies the beast, a shapeless carcass there! - - Oh! never from the long, thick crimson flow - A down thy shoulders from thy noble brow, - America, came such God's-strength as now, - Comes to thine arm against the world's grim foe-- - The beast that, sighting man, devours him, how - The world may end, a wilderness of woe. - - - - -TO OUR BOYS "OVER THERE" - - - Where flies our flag is Freedom's holy ground; - There, it unfurls all benisons to Man. - The twin of Spring, its spread unfolds God's plan - Of human happiness, by setting bound - To greed, lust, powers,--all colds,--that Right be crowned. - Lo! where it leads, ye youth form valor's van, - Mirrored and echoed by the azure's span - For ages, for Man's gain in yours is wound. - - Oh, justice's Hot Gulf Stream are ye, who open - The sea, which fiendish craft has frozen hard! - Oh, may your warmth for righteousness transform - The tyrant's artic region, with no hope in, - To Freedom's Temperate Zone, which they, who guard - The planets, save from wreck by quake or storm. - - - - -THE PROFITEERS - - - Now and in life--not Virgil--breaks a storm - Of Harpies, harsh to ear and foul to smell. - It sweeps War's lengthening coast, where each sea-swell - Is Humans, gasping. Hope drags each cold form - From hearth to hearth, to find no ember warm; - Then, their eyes glitter frost, who hear hope yell - As up she climbs the rocks and falls pell-mell - Back from small herbs, where monsters swoop and swarm. - - Oh, could the bestial birds, in Virgil's verse, - See Hope's hands redden, as she rends her hair, - They would grow human--would not glut, but share; - Nor, then, shed human semblance for man's curse-- - As ye do, who from want, hold warmth and fair, - And gorge your bulks to sleep, as want writhes worse! - - - - -WHY THE STARS LAUGH - - - Hark! 'tis the laughter of the stars at Earth, - And Nature's, too, with every pitch of voice. - Earth's carnival of sheer grotesque and noise, - Where, gagged and manacled, walk Peace and Mirth, - Shows Britain now, a beast of broadening girth, - Set out to crush World Freedom. He destroys, - And thinks his bear-like rearing, planet poise - That is to influence the world's new birth. - - The stars are kind, as all the ages know; - The sense of humor twinkles in their eyes, - At Earth's strange follies; but this beast would try - To thrust aside the planets, and make woe, - The fortune of World Freedom! That is why - The stars laugh, and all nature jeers the show. - - - - -PRAYER FOR WORLD PEACE - - - Lord, not Thy work, the World's calamities, - But Man's. If Human Will revolt from Thine, - It flees Thy region, where the stars all shine - With longing to let down the Azure's Peace-- - To dash its hosts from summits into seas, - Where Empires are the breakers. There the brine - Is anguish, and there Triumph leaves no sign, - Save wreck on rock, and Plague, adrift on breeze. - - When Nations turn from Light, in thought, or life, - Their speed is brink-ward, save Thy Mercy stay; - For all is precipice, except Thy way. - Help, Lord, for here is heightening surge of strife; - Here, clouds turn floods, coasts are wind-whirled, like spray, - And lightenings, hurling back thy light, are rife. - - - - -RELIGION - - - Religion is Ascension. 'Tis the flights - Of souls to summits of the true and wise. - One, witnessing the generations rise, - Sees them a shine at countless, different heights, - Where they, responding to their inner lights, - Glow, like the clouds at morn, with graded dyes. - If summits, there are depths; if virtue, vice; - Hence, 'tis life's rise from falls, that judgment sights. - - Witnessed, or not, there is no age, nor climb, - But souls arise as bloom, where earth is treed; - As warm, red rays, where cold from mountaining need; - As burst and spread of planets, where dark crime; - Nay, rise to poise above the star's top speed - To God, like larks, in praise for life and time. - - - - -THE GOLDEN JUBILEE OF SISTERS OF CHARITY - - -I - - How thy Half Century shines over head! - 'Tis an unfading rain-bow, one whose dyes - Are richer and more numerous to the eyes - Of Angels, than to ours. Its rays, if spread - Above a flood of sin and world of dead, - Give to the drowned, new life, new earth, new skies. - Night counts her stars, but falters, when souls rise - Bright with the Grace which God's annointed shed. - - Belov'd Irene, how great our joy to see - Thine arch, aglow with virtue's every hue! - Oh, how much more must they rejoice, who view - From inner Heaven, the arch that is for thee, - Triumphal! for than vows like thine, lived true, - No grander arch from earth to heaven could be. - - -II - - The "Church Triumphant" shines in lives like thine, - Calista! 'Tis the Saints' procession, shown - In Dante's vision, near Lord Jesus' throne, - In greatening splendor, never to decline. - Ah, if our minds grow dark, our hearts repine, - How, from sweet lives, dear Sister, like thine own, - Be-Mothering with mercy all who moan, - A light comes, and a warmth is in its shine. - - We shade our eyes, as when we face the Sun - On level with the earth, at lives all love-- - The Church Triumphant, as in Heaven above! - Aye, lives all love for Christ, in every one - Who suffers wrong, or any pain thereof, - As on His Throne--such lives as thine, dear Nun. - - - - -WINIFRED HOLT, THE LIFESAVER OF THE BLIND - - - Once, blindness was a burning ship at sea, - With panic-stricken souls on every deck. - The flame blew inward on that awful wreck, - Burning the hopes that make life glad and free. - Ah! then, through thee, it was, Philanthropy, - Who trains her searchlight on the smallest speck - And Speed out boats, like horses, neck to neck, - Reached the dark hulk and thrilled its crew with glee. - - The flame is quenched, that burned out heart and brain. - The ship where woe was mute, is loud with joy. - Hark! hear the cheer on board, and cry, "Ahoy!" - As fast the sails are hoisted, and the main - Tides back toward hope for every girl and boy, - Who, else, might reach no star of night's whole train. - - - - -A CHOICE - - - Above and under life, eternally, - A subtle light and dark run parallel. - One prompts men to build Beauty, cell by cell, - In Home, Religion, State, Society; - The other, to destroy the fair they see. - Like Spring, wilt thou roof Earth with bloom and dwell - Thereunder? or, with Scalping Winter's yell, - Scour grove and bush? Choose--how else art thou free? - - If Freedom is the gift of the all-wise, - It is because he will not have a slave - To serve Him. Which wilt thou be, base or brave? - With Morn, climb, or, with Night, skulk down the skies - To grope in caverns, or beneath the wave, - Creep, till aghast at monsters that arise? - - - - -ALL LUMINARIES HAVE ONE TREND - - - All luminaries have one source, one trend. - The stars that calm the sailor, long sea-swirled, - And canopy fond lovers from the World, - And those that lead the heart and spirit, blend. - Lo, only in the things and thoughts that tend - Toward Love's High Harmony, is truth unfurled; - All else are lies, whence heart, soul, mind are hurled - Back to the Right--to Progress without end. - - The stars all chant as one. My soaring song - Catches their flame and these few sparks reach earth: - "As soon the shells forget their Ocean birth, - As men forget the Right, where they belong - By reason and by soul of deathless worth; - Address the God in man, wouldst thou grow strong." - - - - -LIFE TAKES MORNING HUES WITH THE ARTS OF PEACE - - - America! from out the depths thy coast - Was lifted skyward for Humanity. - Thy Life, once finny circlings in the sea, - Is now the orbits of the starry host, - Encircling God with trust. Be this thy boast, - When the long line of Ages, passing thee, - Lifts each his heart and soul, and shouts with glee, - "That Trust in Him was Sentinel on post." - - Night, that once boa-like hung from thy trees, - Gorged with crushed tribes--with pottery, or mound, - Or print of foot for trace--slinks underground; - For lo, the forests, like the mist on seas, - Clears, ere the Sun, at earth's edge, glows half-round, - And life takes cloud-hues with the arts of Peace. - - - - -U. S. SENATOR JAMES A. O'GORMAN AND THE STALWARTS - - - On toward the Senate scuds a thunder-rack-- - Nay, cyclone--and the columns--all star-straight-- - Of Freedom's Temple sway with the roof's flood-weight. - Ye Stalwarts who scorn off a fate, pitch-black, - Holding the columns, let no sinew slack. - A crash and through the roof, what floods of hate! - Still, ye budge not, for "Freedom," your teeth grate, - "Shall lie no wreck along the cyclone's track." - - Oh, not for you was dark the time to slumber, - But to hold Freedom's columns all star-plumb! - Yours was a watery grave, but Martyrdom - And, hence, your resurrection with the number, - Whose greatness greatens, as the Ages come - To know why their pathway, no wrecks encumber. - - - - -MINISTER OF JUSTICE PALMER, A BASTILE BUILDER - - - O Bastile Builder! Nature, when she shaped - Thy soul, was stricken, with a long attack - Of sleeping sickness; nor till wheel and rack - Had rusted, and man spirit had escaped - The bolsted, loathesome tomb where right was raped, - Did she awaken and, alack! alack! - Deliver thee, who, put on Freedom's back, - Would'st grab all things, at which thy Past-eyes gaped. - - Freedom would humor thee; so, down he flopped - On Justice's floor to watch thee build with blocks. - Great was thy skill with walls and dungeon locks, - And with the trap, down which poor Freedom dropped - To be steel-masked, or, else, put in the stocks, - To writhe, then, with his tongue and ears, both lopped. - - - - -A SPECK, BUT NOT A STAIN, HARVARD - - - O Harvard of the Norton wreath of gold - And pearled, Longfellow purple! wherefore frown? - If Eliott is a speck upon your gown, - It will wash off; it is no stain to hold, - For you had let him go for being old. - Your wisdom was confirmed when to the crown, - A'gainst good folks who, like Elisha Brown, - Fought for their homes, he gave his name's renown. - - Come, Agassiz! for, from the smallest bone, - You reconstruct the creature, tongue to tail. - Tell us what Eliott is. Phew! What! a Whale? - No; tis the prehistoric monster, known - As Tory, that devoured young Nathan Hale - And, where it crawled, spread horror's crimson zone. - - - - -SUPREME COURT JUSTICE CHARLES L. GUY - - - Your heart is not a traitor to your mind. - Who, knowing innocence in danger, dares - Not turn his eye, for fear of smirk, or stares, - By other courts, is Justice's statue blind, - That to the wall, not Bench, should be assigned. - Oft, Precedent is Folly with gray hairs; - So you, recalling Junius, heard the prayers - Of friendless Stilow; then, what did you find? - - A fellow man doomed wrongfully to die - A felon's death. If such was Stilow's fate, - You saw, the felon would have been the State; - Hence, turned from Precedent, demanding "Why?" - Justice, asleep in marble, woke and straight - Unroofed the courthouse to let down the sky. - - - - -REAR ADMIRAL SIMS - - - A Dukedom, and not one the worse for wear, - Has Sims well earned by service to the King. - 'Tis said at court, Howe's spirit following - The ocean still, found Sims his natural heir - And said: "Swap souls; and, that the swap be fair, - Give me to boot, the bone of Freedom's wing, - To make the skyey bird a hobbling thing - In marshes, where the ignisfatus flare." - - The Eagle with his eye and pinion, trained - For mateship with the sun, twitched at a sting. - Amazed to find a "cootie" on his wing, - And that the insect dreamed, it was ordained - By race heredity to serve the King-- - He shook his plume and azured, unprofained. - - - - -SAINT GEORGE AND THE DRAGON - - -I - - In English nature, did Saint George prevail - Over the Dragon? Maybe in the time - When England knew not poverty, nor crime, - Described by Cobbett, who would not go bail - For falsehood, nor let truth remain in jail. - It must, then, have renewed life from its slime, - For, oh! through deeds, that turn the blood to chyme - And eyes white inward, see him ride the gale. - - In English nature--oh, where now the saint-- - The spirit, to sublime conceptions, true? - Has good Saint George, too woundful to renew - His conflict with the dragon of base taint, - Been caught up by Elias from earth's view? - How, else, the dragon's rage in irrestraint? - - -II - - The dragon is grim greed. The Saint's long spear, - That once transfixed it, can no longer touch. - No land is safe from its sting, blood-drain, or clutch-- - For it takes Protean shapes; 'tis, therefore, clear, - Since good Saint George has failed to re-appear - To mortal sight, save in the King's escutch-- - Worn off at edge and blurred with Tudor smudge-- - Freedom must drive the Dragon off this sphere. - - The Dragon's soarings cause the sun's eclypse.-- - Hark! is that thunder, God's collapsing skys? - No; 'tis the Eagle, with un-hooded eyes - And lightening flash from beak to pinion tips, - Seizing the Dragon that, despite its slips - From form to form--craft, gold and false sunrise-- - Can not elude his eye and talon grips. - - -III - - A conflict, this, refracted, cloud to cloud! - Where a white summit? Under crimson seas, - And these still hightening. Through far azure, Peace - Listens and, eager, peeps; then, turns headbowed. - The conflict circling earth, all plains are ploughed - New rows of gulches. God! can aught appease - The Dragon with fiend thirst's eternities - For tongue! The sun might, if it were well sloughed. - - The Dragon, mounting, draws aloft earth's slime - With which to dim the all-producing Sun - From broadening light and warmth for every one; - But, look! The Eagle, with the thirst sublime - Of Justice, that the right on earth be done-- - Flashes and--hark! 'Tis earth's Te-Deum chime! - - -IV - - Oh, yea, the Earth's Te Deums, visibling - As well as voicing forth the joy of Nations, - Fill up the vastest Heaven--that of God's Patience - With Human Will most grossly reptiling - In insincerities, worse than negations; - And for what blessing are the earth's laudations? - The grace to soul to scorn to be mere thing. - - Oh, of this grace was born the Eagle's vim - To dash the Dragon down in hell so deep, - It is a maggot there, which can but creep; - And draw Elias' chariot to Earth's rim, - Wherein Saint George stands with his heart a-leap-- - As, now, in labor, we catch glimpse of him. - -[Illustration] - - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Freedom, Truth and Beauty, by Edward Doyle - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FREEDOM, TRUTH AND BEAUTY *** - -***** This file should be named 20174.txt or 20174.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/1/7/20174/ - -Produced by Sigal Alon, Brett Fishburne, David Garcia and -the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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