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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:27:57 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:27:57 -0700 |
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diff --git a/6667-h/6667-h.htm b/6667-h/6667-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5d1d743 --- /dev/null +++ b/6667-h/6667-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3633 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> +<meta charset="utf-8"> +<title>Poems of Power | Project Gutenberg</title> +<link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" > +<style> + +body { margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + text-align: justify; } + + P { margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + P.poetry {margin-left: 3%; } + .GutSmall { font-size: 0.7em; } + H1, H2 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + } + H3, H4, H5 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + + div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + div.gapspace { height: 0.8em; } + div.gapmediumline { height: 0.3em; width: 40%; margin-left:30%; + border-top: 1px solid; } + +div.fig { display:block; + margin:0 auto; + text-align:center; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em;} + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + + </style> +</head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 6667 ***</div> + +<div class="fig" style="width:55%;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="[Illustration]"> +</div> + +<h1>POEMS OF POWER</h1> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> + +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">BY</span><br > +ELLA WHEELER WILCOX</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/tpb.jpg"> +<img alt="Decorative graphic" +title="Decorative graphic" +src="images/tps.jpg"> +</a></p> + +<p style="text-align: center">GAY AND HANCOCK, LTD.<br > +21 BEDFORD ROW<br > +LONDON</p> +<p style="text-align: center">[<i>All rights reserved</i>]</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> + +<p style="text-align: center"><i>Published</i> 1903<br > +<i>Reprinted</i> 1904, 1905, 1906, 1907, 1908<br > +1909 (<i>three times</i>), 1910 (<i>four times</i>), 1911,<br > +1912 (<i>twice</i>), 1913, 1914, 1916, 1917, 1918</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>N.B.</i>—<i>The only +volumes of my poems issued</i><br > +<i>with my approval in the British Empire are</i><br > +<i>published by</i> <span class="smcap">Messrs. Gay & +Hancock</span>.</p> + +<p style="text-align: right">ELLA WHEELER WILCOX.</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>NOTE</h2> + +<p><i>The final word in the title of this volume refers to the +</i><span class="smcap"><i>Divine Power</i></span><i> in every +human being</i>, <i>the recognition of which is the secret to all +success and happiness</i>. <i>It is this idea which many of +the verses endeavour to illustrate</i>.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>E. W. W.</i></p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<table style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem01">The Queen’s last ride</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem02">The Meeting of the Centuries</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem03">Death has Crowned him a Martyr</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem04">Grief</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem05">Illusion</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem06">Assertion</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem07">I Am</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem08">Wishing</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem09">We two</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem10">The Poet’s Theme</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem11">Song of the Spirit</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem12">Womanhood</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem13">Morning Prayer</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem14">The Voices of the People</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem15">The World grows Better</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem16">A Man’s Ideal</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem17">The Fire Brigade</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem18">The Tides</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem19">When the Regiment came back</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem20">Woman to Man</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem21">The Traveller</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem22">The Earth</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem23">Now</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem24">You and To-day</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem25">The Reason</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem26">Mission</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem27">Repetition</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem28">Begin the Day</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem29">Words</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem30">Fate and I</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem31">Attainment</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem32">A Plea to Peace</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem33">Presumption</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem34">High Noon</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem35">Thought-magnets</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem36">Smiles</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem37">The Undiscovered Country</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem38">The Universal Route</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem39">Unanswered Prayers</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem40">Thanksgiving</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem41">Contrasts</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem42">Thy Ship</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem43">Life</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem44">A Marine Etching</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem45">“Love Thyself Last”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem46">Christmas Fancies</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem47">The River</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem48">Sorry</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem49">Ambition’s trail</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem50">Uncontrolled</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem51">Will</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem52">To an Astrologer</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem53">The Tendril’s Fate</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem54">The Times</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem55">The Question</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem56">Sorrow’s Uses</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem57">If</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem58">Which are you?</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem59">The Creed to be</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem60">Inspiration</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem61">The Wish</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem62">Three Friends</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem63">You never can tell</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem64">Here and now</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem65">Unconquered</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem66">All that love asks</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem67">“Does it pay?”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem68">Sestina</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem69">The Optimist</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem70">The Pessimist</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem71">An Inspiration</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem72">Life’s Harmonies</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem73">Preparation</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem74">Gethsemane</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem75">God’s Measure</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem76">Noblesse Oblige</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem77">Through Tears</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem78">What we Need</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem79">Plea to Science</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem80">Respite</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem81">Song</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem82">My Ships</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem83">Her Love</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem84">If</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem85">Love’s burial</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem86">“Love is enough”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem87">Life is a Privilege</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem88">Insight</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem89">A Woman’s Answer</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem90">The World’s Need</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem01"></a>THE QUEEN’S LAST RIDE</h2> + +<p style="text-align: center">(Written on the day of Queen +Victoria’s funeral)</p> +<p class="poetry">The Queen is taking a drive to-day,<br > +They have hung with purple the carriage-way,<br > +They have dressed with purple the royal track<br > +Where the Queen goes forth and never comes back.</p> +<p class="poetry">Let no man labour as she goes by<br > +On her last appearance to mortal eye:<br > +With heads uncovered let all men wait<br > +For the Queen to pass, in her regal state.</p> +<p class="poetry">Army and Navy shall lead the way<br > +For that wonderful coach of the Queen’s to-day.<br > +Kings and Princes and Lords of the land<br > +Shall ride behind her, a humble band;<br > +And over the city and over the world<br > +Shall the Flags of all Nations be half-mast-furled,<br > +For the silent lady of royal birth<br > +Who is riding away from the Courts of earth,<br > +Riding away from the world’s unrest<br > +To a mystical goal, on a secret quest.</p> +<p class="poetry">Though in royal splendour she drives through +town,<br > +Her robes are simple, she wears no crown:<br > +And yet she wears one, for, widowed no more,<br > +She is crowned with the love that has gone before,<br > +And crowned with the love she has left behind<br > +In the hidden depths of each mourner’s mind.</p> +<p class="poetry">Bow low your heads—lift your hearts on +high—<br > +The Queen in silence is driving by!</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem02"></a>THE MEETING OF THE CENTURIES</h2> + +<p class="poetry">A curious vision on mine eyes unfurled<br > + In the deep night. I saw, or seemed to see,<br +> + Two Centuries meet, and sit down vis-à-vis<br +> +Across the great round table of the world:<br > +One with suggested sorrows in his mien,<br > + And on his brow the furrowed lines of thought;<br > + And one whose glad expectant presence brought<br > +A glow and radiance from the realms unseen.</p> +<p class="poetry">Hand clasped with hand, in silence for a +space<br > + The Centuries sat; the sad old eyes of one<br > + (As grave paternal eyes regard a son)<br > +Gazing upon that other eager face.<br > +And then a voice, as cadenceless and gray<br > + As the sea’s monody in winter time,<br > + Mingled with tones melodious, as the chime<br > +Of bird choirs, singing in the dawns of May.</p> +<p style="text-align: center" class="poetry"> +<span class="smcap">The Old Century Speaks</span></p> +<p class="poetry">By you, Hope stands. With me, Experience +walks.<br > +Like a fair jewel in a faded box,<br > +In my tear-rusted heart, sweet Pity lies.<br > +For all the dreams that look forth from your eyes,<br > +And those bright-hued ambitions, which I know<br > +Must fall like leaves and perish, in Time’s snow,<br > +(Even as my soul’s garden stands bereft,)<br > +I give you pity! ’tis the one gift left.</p> +<p style="text-align: center" class="poetry"><span +class="smcap">The New Century</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Nay, nay, good friend! not pity, but +Godspeed,<br > +Here in the morning of my life I need.<br > +Counsel, and not condolence; smiles, not tears,<br > +To guide me through the channels of the years.<br > +Oh, I am blinded by the blaze of light<br > +That shines upon me from the Infinite.<br > +Blurred is my vision by the close approach<br > +To unseen shores, whereon the times encroach.</p> +<p style="text-align: center" class="poetry"><span +class="smcap">The Old Century</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Illusion, all illusion. List and hear<br +> +The Godless cannons, booming far and near.<br > +Flaunting the flag of Unbelief, with Greed<br > +For pilot, lo! the pirate age in speed<br > +Bears on to ruin. War’s most hideous crimes<br > +Besmirch the record of these modern times.<br > +Degenerate is the world I leave to you,—<br > +My happiest speech to earth will be—adieu.</p> +<p style="text-align: center" class="poetry"><span +class="smcap">The New Century</span></p> +<p class="poetry">You speak as one too weary to be just.<br > +I hear the guns—I see the greed and lust.<br > +The death throes of a giant evil fill<br > +The air with riot and confusion. Ill<br > +Ofttimes makes fallow ground for Good; and Wrong<br > +Builds Right’s foundation, when it grows too strong.<br > +Pregnant with promise is the hour, and grand<br > +The trust you leave in my all-willing hand.</p> +<p style="text-align: center" class="poetry"><span +class="smcap">The Old Century</span></p> +<p class="poetry">As one who throws a flickering taper’s +ray<br > +To light departing feet, my shadowed way<br > +You brighten with your faith. Faith makes the man<br > +Alas, that my poor foolish age outran<br > +Its early trust in God! The death of art<br > +And progress follows, when the world’s hard heart<br > +Casts out religion. ’Tis the human brain<br > +Men worship now, and heaven, to them, means—gain.</p> +<p style="text-align: center" class="poetry"> +<span class="smcap">The New Century</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Faith is not dead, tho’ priest and creed +may pass,<br > +For thought has leavened the whole unthinking mass,<br > +And man looks now to find the God within.<br > +We shall talk more of love, and less of sin,<br > +In this new era. We are drawing near<br > +Unatlassed boundaries of a larger sphere.<br > +With awe, I wait, till Science leads us on,<br > +Into the full effulgence of its dawn.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem03"></a>DEATH HAS CROWNED HIM A MARTYR</h2> + +<p>(Written on the day of President McKinley’s death)</p> +<p class="poetry">In the midst of sunny waters, lo! the mighty +Ship of State<br > +Staggers, bruised and torn and wounded by a derelict of fate,<br +> +One that drifted from its moorings in the anchorage of hate.</p> +<p class="poetry">On the deck our noble Pilot, in the glory of +his prime,<br > +Lies in woe-impelling silence, dead before his hour or time,<br +> +Victim of a mind self-centred in a Godless fool of crime.</p> +<p class="poetry">One of earth’s dissension-breeders, one +of Hate’s unreasoning tools,<br > +In the annals of the ages, when the world’s hot anger +cools,<br > +He who sought for Crime’s distinction shall be known as +Chief of Fools.</p> +<p class="poetry">In the annals of the ages, he who had no thought of +fame<br > +(Keeping on the path of duty, caring not for praise or blame),<br +> +Close beside the deathless Lincoln, writ in light, will shine his +name.</p> +<p class="poetry">Youth proclaimed him as a hero; time, a +statesman; love, a man;<br > +Death has crowned him as a martyr,—so from goal to goal he +ran,<br > +Knowing all the sum of glory that a human life may span.</p> +<p class="poetry">He was chosen by the people; not an accident of +birth<br > +Made him ruler of a nation, but his own intrinsic worth.<br > +Fools may govern over kingdoms—not republics of the +earth.</p> +<p class="poetry">He has raised the lovers’ standard by his +loyalty and faith,<br > +He has shown how virile manhood may keep free from +scandal’s breath.<br > +He has gazed, with trust unshaken, in the awful eyes of +Death.</p> +<p class="poetry">In the mighty march of progress he has sought to do his +best.<br > +Let his enemies be silent, as we lay him down to rest,<br > +And may God assuage the anguish of one suffering woman’s +breast.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem04"></a>GRIEF</h2> + +<p class="poetry">As the funeral train with its honoured dead<br +> + On its mournful way went sweeping,<br > +While a sorrowful nation bowed its head<br > + And the whole world joined in weeping,<br > +I thought, as I looked on the solemn sight,<br > + Of the one fond heart despairing,<br > +And I said to myself, as in truth I might,<br > + “How sad must be this +<i>sharing</i>.”</p> +<p class="poetry">To share the living with even Fame,<br > + For a heart that is only human,<br > +Is hard, when Glory asserts her claim<br > + Like a bold, insistent woman;<br > +Yet a great, grand passion can put aside<br > + Or stay each selfish emotion,<br > +And watch, with a pleasure that springs from pride,<br > + Its rival—the world’s devotion.</p> +<p class="poetry">But Death should render to love its own,<br > + And my heart bowed down and sorrowed<br > +For the stricken woman who wept alone<br > + While even her <i>dead</i> was borrowed;<br > +Borrowed from her, the bride—the wife—<br > + For the world’s last martial honour,<br > +As she sat in the gloom of her darkened life,<br > + With her widow’s grief fresh upon her.</p> +<p class="poetry">He had shed the glory of Love and Fame<br > + In a golden halo about her;<br > +She had shared his triumphs and worn his name:<br > + But, alas! he had died without her.<br > +He had wandered in many a distant realm,<br > + And never had left her behind him,<br > +But now, with a spectral shape at the helm,<br > + He had sailed where she could not find him.</p> +<p class="poetry">It was only a thought, that came that day<br > + In the midst of the muffled drumming<br > +And funeral music and sad display,<br > + That I knew was right and becoming<br > +Only a thought as the mourning train<br > + Moved, column after column,<br > +Bearing the dead to the burial plain<br > + With a reverence grand as solemn.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem05"></a>ILLUSION</h2> + +<p class="poetry">God and I in space alone<br > + And nobody else in view.<br > +“And where are the people, O Lord,” I said,<br > +“The earth below, and the sky o’er head,<br > + And the dead whom once I knew?”</p> +<p class="poetry">“That was a dream,” God smiled and +said—<br > + “A dream that seemed to be true.<br > +There were no people, living or dead,<br > +There was no earth, and no sky o’erhead;<br > + There was only Myself—in you.”</p> +<p class="poetry">“Why do I feel no fear,” I +asked,<br > + “Meeting You here this way?<br > +For I have sinned I know full well?<br > +And is there heaven, and is there hell,<br > + And is this the judgment day?”</p> +<p class="poetry">“Say, those were but dreams,” the Great God +said,<br > + “Dreams, that have ceased to be.<br > +There are no such things as fear or sin,<br > +There is no you—you never have been—<br > + There is nothing at all but <i>Me</i>.”</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem06"></a>ASSERTION</h2> + +<p class="poetry">I am serenity. Though passions beat<br > + Like mighty billows on my helpless heart,<br > +I know beyond them lies the perfect sweet<br > + Serenity, which patience can impart.<br > +And when wild tempests in my bosom rage,<br > +“Peace, peace,” I cry, “it is my +heritage.”</p> +<p class="poetry">I am good health. Though fevers rack my +brain<br > + And rude disorders mutilate my strength,<br > +A perfect restoration after pain,<br > + I know shall be my recompense at length.<br > +And so through grievous day and sleepless night,<br > +“Health, health,” I cry, “it is my own by +right.”</p> +<p class="poetry">I am success. Though hungry, cold, +ill-clad,<br > + I wander for awhile, I smile and say,<br > +“It +is but for a time—I shall be glad<br > + To-morrow, for good fortune comes my way.<br > +God is my father, He has wealth untold,<br > +His wealth is mine, health, happiness, and gold.”</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem07"></a>I AM</h2> + +<p class="poetry">I know not whence I came,<br > + I know not whither I go;<br > +But the fact stands clear that I am here<br > + In this world of pleasure and woe.<br > +And out of the mist and murk<br > + Another truth shines plain—<br > +It is my power each day and hour<br > + To add to its joy or its pain.</p> +<p class="poetry">I know that the earth exists,<br > + It is none of my business why;<br > +I cannot find out what it’s all about,<br > + I would but waste time to try.<br > +My life is a brief, brief thing,<br > + I am here for a little space,<br > +And while I stay I would like, if I may,<br > + To brighten and better the place.</p> +<p class="poetry">The trouble, I think, with us all<br > + Is the lack of a high conceit.<br > +If each man thought he was sent to this spot<br > + To make it a bit more sweet,<br > +How soon we could gladden the world,<br > + How easily right all wrong,<br > +If nobody shirked, and each one worked<br > + To help his fellows along!</p> +<p class="poetry">Cease wondering why you came—<br > + Stop looking for faults and flaws;<br > +Rise up to-day in your pride and say,<br > + “I am part of the First Great Cause!<br > +However full the world,<br > + There is room for an earnest man.<br > +It had need of me, or I would not be—<br > + I am here to strengthen the plan.”</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem08"></a>WISHING</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Do you wish the world were better?<br > + Let me tell you what to do:<br > +Set a watch upon your actions,<br > + Keep them always straight and true;<br > +Rid your mind of selfish motives;<br > + Let your thoughts be clean and high.<br > +You can make a little Eden<br > + Of the sphere you occupy.</p> +<p class="poetry">Do you wish the world were wiser?<br > + Well, suppose you make a start,<br > +By accumulating wisdom<br > + In the scrapbook of your heart:<br > +Do not waste one page on folly;<br > + Live to learn, and learn to live.<br > +If you want to give men knowledge<br > + You must get it, ere you give.</p> +<p class="poetry">Do you wish the world were happy?<br > + Then remember day by day<br > +Just to scatter seeds of kindness<br > + As you pass along the way;<br > +For the pleasures of the many<br > + May be ofttimes traced to one,<br > +As the hand that plants an acorn<br > + Shelters armies from the sun.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem09"></a>WE TWO</h2> + +<p class="poetry"> We two make home of any place +we go;<br > +We two find joy in any kind of weather;<br > + Or if the earth is clothed in bloom or snow,<br > + If summer days invite, or bleak winds blow,<br > +What matters it if we two are together?<br > +We two, we two, we make our world, our weather.</p> +<p class="poetry"> We two make banquets of the +plainest fare;<br > +In every cup we find the thrill of pleasure;<br > + We hide with wreaths the furrowed brow of care,<br +> + And win to smiles the set lips of despair.<br > +For us life always moves with lilting measure;<br > +We two, we two, we make our world, our pleasure.</p> +<p class="poetry"> We two find youth renewed +with every dawn;<br > +Each day holds something of an unknown glory.<br > + We waste no thought on grief or pleasure gone;<br > + Tricked out like hope, time leads us on and on,<br +> +And thrums upon his harp new song or story.<br > +We two, we two, we find the paths of glory.</p> +<p class="poetry"> We two make heaven here on +this little earth;<br > +We do not need to wait for realms eternal.<br > + We know the use of tears, know sorrow’s +worth,<br > + And pain for us is always love’s rebirth.<br +> +Our paths lead closely by the paths supernal;<br > +We two, we two, we live in love eternal.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem10"></a>THE POET’S THEME</h2> + +<blockquote><p>What is the explanation of the strange silence of +American poets concerning American triumphs on sea and land?</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>Literary Digest</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p class="poetry">Why should the poet of these pregnant times<br +> +Be asked to sing of war’s unholy crimes?</p> +<p class="poetry">To laud and eulogize the trade which thrives<br +> +On horrid holocausts of human lives?</p> +<p class="poetry">Man was a fighting beast when earth was +young,<br > +And war the only theme when Homer sung.</p> +<p class="poetry">’Twixt might and might the equal contest +lay,<br > +Not so the battles of our modern day.</p> +<p class="poetry">Too often now the conquering hero struts<br > +A Gulliver among the Liliputs.</p> +<p class="poetry">Success no longer rests on skill or fate,<br > +But on the movements of a syndicate.</p> +<p class="poetry">Of old men fought and deemed it right and +just.<br > +To-day the warrior fights because he must,</p> +<p class="poetry">And in his secret soul feels shame because<br +> +He desecrates the higher manhood’s laws</p> +<p class="poetry">Oh! there are worthier themes for poet’s +pen<br > +In this great hour, than bloody deeds of men</p> +<p class="poetry">Or triumphs of one hero (though he be<br > +Deserving song for his humility):</p> +<p class="poetry">The rights of many—not the worth of +one;<br > +The coming issues—not the battle done;</p> +<p class="poetry">The awful opulence, and awful need;<br > +The rise of brotherhood—the fall of greed,</p> +<p class="poetry">The soul of man replete with God’s own +force,<br > +The call “to heights,” and not the cry “to +horse,”—</p> +<p class="poetry">Are there not better themes in this great +age<br > +For pen of poet, or for voice of sage</p> +<p class="poetry">Than those old tales of killing? Song is dumb<br +> +Only that greater song in time may come.</p> +<p class="poetry">When comes the bard, he whom the world waits +for,<br > +He will not sing of War.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem11"></a>SONG OF THE SPIRIT</h2> + +<p class="poetry">All the aim of life is just<br > + Getting back to God.<br > +Spirit casting off its dust,<br > + Getting back to God.<br > +Every grief we have to bear<br > +Disappointment, cross, despair<br > +Each is but another stair<br > + Climbing back to God.</p> +<p class="poetry">Step by step and mile by mile—<br > + Getting back to God;<br > +Nothing else is worth the while—<br > + Getting back to God.<br > +Light and shadow fill each day<br > +Joys and sorrows pass away,<br > +Smile at all, and smiling, say,<br > + Getting back to God.</p> +<p class="poetry">Do not wear a mournful face<br > + Getting back to God;<br > +Scatter sunshine on the place<br > + Going back to God;<br > +Take what pleasure you can find,<br > +But where’er your paths may wind.<br > +Keep the purpose well in mind,—<br > + Getting back to God.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem12"></a>WOMANHOOD</h2> + +<p class="poetry">She must be honest, both in thought and +deed,<br > +Of generous impulse, and above all greed;<br > +Not seeking praise, or place, or power, or pelf,<br > +But life’s best blessings for her higher self,<br > +Which means the best for all.<br > + She must have faith,<br > +To make good friends of Trouble, Pain, and Death,<br > +And understand their message.<br > + She should be<br > +As redolent with tender sympathy<br > +As is a rose with fragrance.<br > + Cheerfulness<br > +Should be her mantle, even though her dress<br > +May be of Sorrow’s weaving.<br > + On her face<br > +A loyal nature leaves its seal of grace,<br > +And chastity is in her atmosphere.<br > +Not that chill chastity which seems austere<br > +(Like untrod snow-peaks, lovely to behold<br > +Till once attained—then barren, loveless, cold);<br > +But the white flame that feeds upon the soul<br > +And lights the pathway to a peaceful goal.<br > +A sense of humour, and a touch of mirth,<br > +To brighten up the shadowy spots of earth;<br > +And pride that passes evil—choosing good.<br > +All these unite in perfect womanhood.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem13"></a>MORNING PRAYER</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Let me to-day do something that shall take<br +> + A little sadness from the world’s vast +store,<br > +And may I be so favoured as to make<br > + Of joy’s too scanty sum a little more<br > +Let me not hurt, by any selfish deed<br > + Or thoughtless word, the heart of foe or friend;<br +> +Nor would I pass, unseeing, worthy need,<br > + Or sin by silence when I should defend.<br > +However meagre be my worldly wealth,<br > + Let me give something that shall aid my +kind—<br > +A word of courage, or a thought of health,<br > + Dropped as I pass for troubled hearts to find.<br > +Let me to-night look back across the span<br > + ’Twixt dawn and dark, and to my conscience +say—<br > +Because of some good act to beast or man—<br > + “The world is better that I lived +to-day.”</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem14"></a>THE VOICES OF THE PEOPLE</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Oh! I hear the people calling through the day +time and the night time,<br > +They are calling, they are crying for the coming of the right +time.<br > +It behooves you, men and women, it behooves you to be heeding,<br +> +For there lurks a note of menace underneath their plaintive +pleading.</p> +<p class="poetry">Let the land usurpers listen, let the +greedy-hearted ponder,<br > +On the meaning of the murmur, rising here and swelling yonder,<br +> +Swelling louder, waxing stronger, like a storm-fed stream that +courses<br > +Through the valleys, down abysses, growing, gaining with new +forces.</p> +<p class="poetry">Day by day the river widens, that great river of +opinion,<br > +And its torrent beats and plunges at the base of greed’s +dominion.<br > +Though you dam it by oppression and fling golden bridges +o’er it,<br > +Yet the day and hour advances when in fright you’ll flee +before it.</p> +<p class="poetry">Yes, I hear the people calling, through the +night time and the day time,<br > +Wretched toilers in life’s autumn, weary young ones in +life’s May time—<br > +They are crying, they are calling for their share of work and +pleasure;<br > +You are heaping high your coffers while you give them scanty +measure,—<br > +You have stolen God’s wide acres, just to glut your swollen +purses—<br > +Oh! restore them to His children ere their pleading turns to +curses.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem15"></a>THE WORLD GROWS BETTER</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Oh! the earth is full of sinning<br > + And of trouble and of woe,<br > +But the devil makes an inning<br > + Every time we say it’s so.<br > +And the way to set him scowling,<br > + And to put him back a pace,<br > +Is to stop this stupid growling,<br > + And to look things in the face.</p> +<p class="poetry">If you glance at history’s pages,<br > + In all lands and eras known,<br > +You will find the buried ages<br > + Far more wicked than our own.<br > +As you scan each word and letter.<br > + You will realise it more,<br > +That the world to-day is better<br > + Than it ever was before.</p> +<p class="poetry">There is much that needs amending<br > + In the present time, no doubt;<br > +There is right that needs amending,<br > + There is wrong needs crushing out.<br > +And we hear the groans and curses<br > + Of the poor who starve and die,<br > +While the men with swollen purses<br > + In the place of hearts go by.</p> +<p class="poetry">But in spite of all the trouble<br > + That obscures the sun to-day,<br > +Just remember it was double<br > + In the ages passed away.<br > +And those wrongs shall all be righted,<br > + Good shall dominate the land,<br > +For the darkness now is lighted<br > + By the torch in Science’s hand.</p> +<p class="poetry">Forth from little motes in Chaos,<br > + We have come to what we are;<br > +And no evil force can stay us—<br > + We shall mount from star to star,<br > +We shall break each bond and fetter<br > + That has bound us heretofore;<br > +And the earth is surely better<br > + Than it ever was before.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem16"></a>A MAN’S IDEAL</h2> + +<p class="poetry">A lovely little keeper of the home,<br > +Absorbed in menu books, yet erudite<br > +When I need counsel; quick at repartee<br > +And slow to anger. Modest as a flower,<br > +Yet scintillant and radiant as a star.<br > +Unmercenary in her mould of mind,<br > +While opulent and dainty in her tastes.<br > +A nature generous and free, albeit<br > +The incarnation of economy.<br > +She must be chaste as proud Diana was,<br > +Yet warm as Venus. To all others cold<br > +As some white glacier glittering in the sun;<br > +To me as ardent as the sensuous rose<br > +That yields its sweetness to the burrowing bee<br > +All ignorant of evil in the world,<br > +And innocent as any cloistered nun,<br > +Yet wise as Phryne in the arts of love<br > +When I come thirsting to her nectared lips.<br > +Good as the best, and tempting as the worst,<br > +A saint, a siren, and a paradox.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem17"></a>THE FIRE BRIGADE</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Hark! high o’er the rattle and clamour +and clatter<br > + Of traffic-filled streets, do you hear that loud +noise?<br > +And pushing and rushing to see what’s the matter,<br > + Like herds of wild cattle, go pell-mell the +boys.</p> +<p class="poetry">There’s a fire in the city! the engines +are coming!<br > + The bold bells are clanging, “Make way in the +street!”<br > +The wheels of the hose-cart are spinning and humming<br > + In time to the music of galloping feet.</p> +<p class="poetry">Make way there! make way there! the horses are +flying,<br > + The sparks from their swift hoofs shoot higher and +higher,<br > +The crowds are increasing—the gamins are crying:<br > + “Hooray, boys!” “Hooray, +boys!” “Come on to the fire!”</p> +<p class="poetry">With clanging and banging and clatter and +rattle<br > + The long ladders follow the engine and hose.<br > +The men are all ready to dash into battle;<br > + But will they come out again? God only +knows.</p> +<p class="poetry">At windows and doorways crowd questioning +faces;<br > + There’s something about it that quickens +one’s breath.<br > +How proudly the brave fellows sit in their places—<br > + And speed to the conflict that may be their +death!</p> +<p class="poetry">Still faster and faster and faster and +faster<br > + The grand horses thunder and leap on their way<br > +The red foe is yonder, and may prove the master;<br > + Turn out there, bold traffic—turn out there, I +say!</p> +<p class="poetry">For once the loud truckman knows oaths will not +matter<br > + And reins in his horses and yields to his fate.<br +> +The engines are coming! let pleasure-crowds scatter,<br > + Let street car and truckman and mail waggon +wait.</p> +<p class="poetry">They speed like a comet—they pass in a +minute;<br > + The boys follow on like a tail to a kite;<br > +The commonplace street has but traffic now in it—<br > + The great fire engines have swept out of sight.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem18"></a>THE TIDES</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Be careful what rubbish you toss in the +tide.<br > + On outgoing billows it drifts from your sight,<br > +But back on the incoming waves it may ride<br > + And land at your threshold again before night.<br > +Be careful what rubbish you toss in the tide.</p> +<p class="poetry">Be careful what follies you toss in +life’s sea.<br > + On bright dancing billows they drift far away,<br > +But back on the Nemesis tides they may be<br > + Thrown down at your threshold an unwelcome day<br > +Be careful what follies you toss in youth’s sea.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem19"></a>WHEN THE REGIMENT CAME BACK</h2> + +<p class="poetry">All the uniforms were blue, all the swords were +bright and new,<br > + When the regiment went marching down the street,<br +> +All the men were hale and strong as they proudly moved along,<br +> + Through the cheers that drowned the music of their +feet.<br > +Oh the music of the feet keeping time to drums that beat,<br > + Oh the splendour and the glitter of the sight,<br > +As with swords and rifles new and in uniforms of blue<br > + The regiment went marching to the fight!</p> +<p class="poetry">When the regiment came back all the guns and +swords were black<br > + And the uniforms had faded out to gray,<br > +And the faces of the men who marched through that street again<br > + Seemed like faces of the dead who lose their way.<br +> +For the dead who lose their way cannot look more wan and gray.<br +> + Oh the sorrow and the pity of the sight,<br > +Oh the weary lagging feet out of step with drums that beat,<br > + As the regiment comes marching from the fight.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem20"></a>WOMAN TO MAN</h2> + +<blockquote><p>Woman is man’s enemy, rival, and +competitor.—<span class="smcap">John j. Ingalls</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p class="poetry">You do but jest, sir, and you jest not well,<br +> +How could the hand be enemy of the arm,<br > +Or seed and sod be rivals! How could light<br > +Feel jealousy of heat, plant of the leaf,<br > +Or competition dwell ’twixt lip and smile?<br > +Are we not part and parcel of yourselves?<br > +Like strands in one great braid we entertwine<br > +And make the perfect whole. You could not be,<br > +Unless we gave you birth; we are the soil<br > +From which you sprang, yet sterile were that soil<br > +Save as you planted. (Though in the Book we read<br > +One woman bore a child with no man’s aid,<br > +We find no record of a man-child born<br > +Without the aid of woman! Fatherhood<br > +Is but a small achievement at the best,<br > +While motherhood comprises heaven and hell.)<br > +This ever-growing argument of sex<br > +Is most unseemly, and devoid of sense.<br > +Why waste more time in controversy, when<br > +There is not time enough for all of love,<br > +Our rightful occupation in this life?<br > +Why prate of our defects, of where we fail,<br > +When just the story of our worth would need<br > +Eternity for telling, and our best<br > +Development comes ever through your praise,<br > +As through our praise you reach your highest self?<br > +Oh! had you not been miser of your praise<br > +And let our virtues be their own reward,<br > +The old-established order of the world<br > +Would never have been changed. Small blame is ours<br > +For this unsexing of ourselves, and worse.<br > +Effeminising of the male. We were<br > +Content, sir, till you starved us, heart and brain.<br > +All we have done, or wise, or otherwise,<br > +Traced to the root, was done for love of you.<br > +Let us taboo all vain comparisons,<br > +And go forth as God meant us, hand in hand,<br > +Companions, mates, and comrades evermore;<br > +Two parts of one divinely ordained whole.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem21"></a>THE TRAVELLER</h2> + +<p>Reply to Rudyard Kipling’s “He travels the fastest +who travels alone.”</p> +<p class="poetry">Who travels alone with his eyes on the +heights,<br > +Though he laughs in the day time oft weeps in the nights;</p> +<p class="poetry">For courage goes down at the set of the sun,<br +> +When the toil of the journey is all borne by one.</p> +<p class="poetry">He speeds but to grief though full gaily he +ride<br > +Who travels alone without love at his side.</p> +<p class="poetry">Who travels alone without lover or friend<br > +But hurries from nothing, to naught at the end.</p> +<p class="poetry">Though great be his winnings and high be his +goal,<br > +He is bankrupt in wisdom and beggared in soul.</p> +<p class="poetry">Life’s one gift of value to him is denied<br > +Who travels alone without love at his side.</p> +<p class="poetry">It is easy enough in this world to make +haste<br > +If one live for that purpose—but think of the waste;</p> +<p class="poetry">For life is a poem to leisurely read,<br > +And the joy of the journey lies not in its speed.</p> +<p class="poetry">Oh! vain his achievement and petty his pride<br +> +Who travels alone without love at his side.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem22"></a>THE EARTH</h2> + +<p class="poetry">The earth is yours and mine,<br > + Our God’s bequest.<br > +That testament divine<br > + Who dare contest?</p> +<p class="poetry">Usurpers of the earth,<br > + We claim our share.<br > +We are of royal birth.<br > + Beware! beware!</p> +<p class="poetry">Unloose the hand of greed<br > + From God’s fair land,<br > +We claim but what we need—<br > + That, we demand.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem23"></a>NOW</h2> + +<p class="poetry">I leave with God to-morrow’s where and +how,<br > +And do concern myself but with the Now,<br > +That little word, though half the future’s length,<br > +Well used, holds twice its meaning and its strength.</p> +<p class="poetry">Like one blindfolded groping out his way,<br > +I will not try to touch beyond to-day.<br > +Since all the future is concealed from sight<br > +I need but strive to make the next step right.</p> +<p class="poetry">That done, the next, and so on, till I find<br +> +Perchance some day I am no longer blind,<br > +And looking up, behold a radiant Friend<br > +Who says, “Rest, now, for you have reached the +end.”</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem24"></a>YOU AND TO-DAY</h2> + +<p class="poetry">With every rising of the sun<br > +Think of your life as just begun.</p> +<p class="poetry">The past has shrived and buried deep<br > +All yesterdays—there let them sleep,</p> +<p class="poetry">Nor seek to summon back one ghost<br > +Of that innumerable host.</p> +<p class="poetry">Concern yourself with but to-day;<br > +Woo it and teach it to obey</p> +<p class="poetry">Your wish and will. Since time began<br +> +To-day has been the friend of man.</p> +<p class="poetry">But in his blindness and his sorrow<br > +He looks to yesterday and to-morrow.</p> +<p class="poetry">You and to-day! a soul sublime<br > +And the great pregnant hour of time.</p> +<p class="poetry">With God between to bind the train,<br > +Go forth, I say—attain—attain.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem25"></a>THE REASON</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Do you know what moves the tides<br > + As they swing from low to high?<br > +’Tis the love, love, love,<br > + Of the moon within the sky.<br > +Oh! they follow where she guides,<br > +Do the faithful-hearted tides.</p> +<p class="poetry">Do you know what moves the earth<br > + Out of winter into spring?<br > +’Tis the love, love, love,<br > + Of the sun, the mighty king.<br > +Oh the rapture that finds birth<br > +In the kiss of sun and earth!</p> +<p class="poetry">Do you know what makes sweet songs<br > + Ring for me above earth’s strife?<br > +’Tis the love, love, love,<br > + That you bring into my life,<br > +Oh the glory of the songs<br > +In the heart where love belongs!</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem26"></a>MISSION</h2> + +<p class="poetry">If you are sighing for a lofty work,<br > + If great ambitions dominate your mind,<br > +Just watch yourself and see you do not shirk<br > + The common little ways of being kind.</p> +<p class="poetry">If you are dreaming of a future goal,<br > + When, crowned with glory, men shall own your +power,<br > +Be careful that you let no struggling soul<br > + Go by unaided in the present hour.</p> +<p class="poetry">If you are moved to pity for the earth,<br > + And long to aid it, do not look so high,<br > +You pass some poor, dumb creature faint with thirst—<br > + All life is equal in the eternal eye.</p> +<p class="poetry">If you would help to make the wrong things right,<br > + Begin at home: there lies a lifetime’s +toil.<br > +Weed your own garden fair for all men’s sight,<br > + Before you plan to till another’s soil.</p> +<p class="poetry">God chooses His own leaders in the world,<br > + And from the rest He asks but willing hands.<br > +As mighty mountains into place are hurled,<br > + While patient tides may only shape the sands.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem27"></a>REPETITION</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Over and over and over<br > + These truths I will weave in song—<br > +That God’s great plan needs you and me,<br > +That will is greater than destiny,<br > + And that love moves the world along.</p> +<p class="poetry">However mankind may doubt it,<br > + It shall listen and hear my creed—<br > +That God may ever be found within,<br > +That the worship of self is the only sin,<br > + And the only devil is greed.</p> +<p class="poetry">Over and over and over<br > + These truths I will say and sing,<br > +That love is mightier far than hate,<br > +That a man’s own thought is a man’s own fate,<br > + And that life is a goodly thing.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem28"></a>BEGIN THE DAY</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Begin each morning with a talk to God,<br > +And ask for your divine inheritance<br > +Of usefulness, contentment, and success.<br > +Resign all fear, all doubt, and all despair.<br > +The stars doubt not, and they are undismayed,<br > +Though whirled through space for countless centuries,<br > +And told not why or wherefore: and the sea<br > +With everlasting ebb and flow obeys,<br > +And leaves the purpose with the unseen Cause.<br > +The star sheds radiance on a million worlds,<br > +The sea is prodigal with waves, and yet<br > +No lustre from the star is lost, and not<br > +One drop is missing from the ocean tides.<br > +Oh! brother to the star and sea, know all<br > +God’s opulence is held in trust for those<br > +Who wait serenely and who work in faith.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem29"></a>WORDS</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Words are great forces in the realm of life:<br +> + Be careful of their use. Who talks of hate,<br +> +Of poverty, of sickness, but sets rife<br > + These very elements to mar his fate.</p> +<p class="poetry">When love, health, happiness, and plenty +hear<br > + Their names repeated over day by day,<br > +They wing their way like answering fairies near,<br > + Then nestle down within our homes to stay.</p> +<p class="poetry">Who talks of evil conjures into shape<br > + The formless thing and gives it life and scope.<br +> +This is the law: then let no word escape<br > + That does not breathe of everlasting hope.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem30"></a>FATE AND I</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Wise men tell me thou, O Fate,<br > +Art invincible and great.</p> +<p class="poetry">Well, I own thy prowess; still<br > +Dare I flout thee with my will</p> +<p class="poetry">Thou canst shatter in a span<br > +All the earthly pride of man.</p> +<p class="poetry">Outward things thou canst control;<br > +But stand back—I rule my soul!</p> +<p class="poetry">Death? ’Tis such a little +thing—<br > +Scarcely worth the mentioning.</p> +<p class="poetry">What has death to do with me,<br > +Save to set my spirit free?</p> +<p class="poetry">Something in me dwells, O Fate,<br > +That can rise and dominate</p> +<p class="poetry">Loss, and sorrow, and disaster,—<br > +How, then, Fate, art thou my master?</p> +<p class="poetry">In the great primeval morn<br > +My immortal will was born,</p> +<p class="poetry">Part of that stupendous Cause<br > +Which conceived the Solar Laws,</p> +<p class="poetry">Lit the suns and filled the seas,<br > +Royalest of pedigrees.</p> +<p class="poetry">That great Cause was Love, the Source<br > +Who most loves has most of Force.</p> +<p class="poetry">He who harbours Hate one hour<br > +Saps the soul of Peace and Power.</p> +<p class="poetry">He who will not hate his foe<br > +Need not dread life’s hardest blow.</p> +<p class="poetry">In the realm of brotherhood<br > +Wishing no man aught but good,</p> +<p class="poetry">Naught but good can come to me—<br > +This is Love’s supreme decree.</p> +<p class="poetry">Since I bar my door to Hate,<br > +What have I to fear, O Fate?</p> +<p class="poetry">Since I fear not—Fate I vow,<br > +I the ruler am, not thou!</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem31"></a>ATTAINMENT</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Use all your hidden forces. Do not +miss<br > +The purpose of this life, and do not wait<br > +For circumstance to mould or change your fate;<br > +In your own self lies Destiny. Let this<br > +Vast truth cast out all fear, all prejudice,<br > +All hesitation. Know that you are great,<br > +Great with divinity. So dominate<br > +Environment, and enter into bliss.<br > +Love largely and hate nothing. Hold no aim<br > +That does not chord with universal good.<br > +Hear what the voices of the Silence say—<br > +All joys are yours if you put forth your claim.<br > +Once let the spiritual laws be understood,<br > +Material things must answer and obey.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem32"></a>A PLEA TO PEACE</h2> + +<p class="poetry">When mighty issues loom before us, all<br > +The petty great men of the day seem small,<br > +Like pigmies standing in a blaze of light<br > +Before some grim majestic mountain-height.<br > +War, with its bloody and impartial hand,<br > +Reveals the hidden weakness of a land,<br > +Uncrowns the heroes trusting Peace has made<br > +Of men whose honour is a thing of trade,<br > +And turns the searchlight full on many a place<br > +Where proud conventions long have masked disgrace.<br > +O lovely Peace! as thou art fair be wise.<br > +Demand great men, and great men shall arise<br > +To do thy bidding. Even as warriors come,<br > +Swift at the call of bugle and of drum,<br > +So at the voice of Peace, imperative<br > +As bugle’s call, shall heroes spring to live<br > +For country and for thee. In every land,<br > +In every age, men are what times demand.<br > +Demand the best, O Peace, and teach thy sons<br > +They need not rush in front of death-charged guns<br > +With murder in their hearts to prove their worth.<br > +The grandest heroes who have graced the earth<br > +Were love-filled souls who did not seek the fray,<br > +But chose the safe, hard, high, and lonely way<br > +Of selfless labour for a suffering world.<br > +Beneath our glorious flag again unfurled<br > +In victory such heroes wait to be<br > +Called into bloodless action, Peace, by thee.<br > +Be thou insistent in thy stern demand,<br > +And wise, great men shall rise up in the land.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem33"></a>PRESUMPTION</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Whenever I am prone to doubt or +wonder—<br > + I check myself, and say, “That mighty One<br +> +Who made the solar system cannot blunder—<br > + And for the best all things are being +done.”<br > +Who set the stars on their eternal courses<br > + Has fashioned this strange earth by some sure +plan.<br > +Bow low, bow low to those majestic forces,<br > + Nor dare to doubt their wisdom, puny man.</p> +<p class="poetry">You cannot put one little star in motion,<br > + You cannot shape one single forest leaf,<br > +Nor fling a mountain up, nor sink an ocean,<br > + Presumptuous pigmy, large with unbelief.<br > +You cannot bring one dawn of regal splendour,<br > + Nor bid the day to shadowy twilight fall,<br > +Nor send the pale moon forth with radiance tender—<br > + And dare you doubt the One who has done all?</p> +<p class="poetry">“So much is wrong, there is such +pain—such sinning.”<br > + Yet look again—behold how much is right!<br > +And He who formed the world from its beginning<br > + Knows how to guide it upward to the light.<br > +Your task, O man, is not to carp and cavil<br > + At God’s achievements, but with purpose +strong<br > +To cling to good, and turn away from evil.<br > + That is the way to help the world along.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem34"></a>HIGH NOON</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Time’s finger on the dial of my life<br +> +Points to high noon! and yet the half-spent day<br > +Leaves less than half remaining, for the dark,<br > +Bleak shadows of the grave engulf the end.<br > +To those who burn the candle to the stick,<br > +The sputtering socket yields but little light.<br > +Long life is sadder than an early death.<br > +We cannot count on ravelled threads of age<br > +Whereof to weave a fabric. We must use<br > +The warp and woof the ready present yields<br > +And toil while daylight lasts. When I bethink<br > +How brief the past, the future, still more brief<br > +Calls on to action, action! Not for me<br > +Is time for retrospection or for dreams,<br > +Not time for self-laudation or remorse.<br > +Have I done nobly? Then I must not let<br > +Dead yesterday unborn to-morrow shame.<br > +Have I done wrong? Well, let the bitter taste<br > +Of fruit that turned to ashes on my lip<br > +Be my reminder in temptation’s hour,<br > +And keep me silent when I would condemn.<br > +Sometimes it takes the acid of a sin<br > +To cleanse the clouded windows of our souls<br > +So pity may shine through them.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Looking +back,<br > +My faults and errors seem like stepping-stones<br > +That led the way to knowledge of the truth<br > +And made me value virtue; sorrows shine<br > +In rainbow colours o’er the gulf of years,<br > +Where lie forgotten pleasures.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Looking +forth,<br > +Out to the western sky still bright with noon,<br > +I feel well spurred and booted for the strife<br > +That ends not till Nirvana is attained.</p> +<p class="poetry">Battling with fate, with men, and with +myself,<br > +Up the steep summit of my life’s forenoon,<br > +Three things I learned, three things of precious worth,<br > +To guide and help me down the western slope.<br > +I have learned how to pray, and toil, and save:<br > +To pray for courage to receive what comes,<br > +Knowing what comes to be divinely sent;<br > +To toil for universal good, since thus<br > +And only thus can good come unto me;<br > +To save, by giving whatsoe’er I have<br > +To those who have not—this alone is gain.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem35"></a>THOUGHT-MAGNETS</h2> + +<p class="poetry">With each strong thought, with every earnest +longing<br > + For aught thou deemest needful to thy soul,<br > +Invisible vast forces are set thronging<br > + Between thee and that goal</p> +<p class="poetry">’Tis only when some hidden weakness +alters<br > + And changes thy desire, or makes it less,<br > +That this mysterious army ever falters<br > + Or stops short of success.</p> +<p class="poetry">Thought is a magnet; and the longed-for +pleasure,<br > + Or boon, or aim, or object, is the steel;<br > +And its attainment hangs but on the measure<br > + Of what thy soul can feel.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem36"></a>SMILES</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Smile a little, smile a little,<br > + As you go along,<br > +Not alone when life is pleasant,<br > + But when things go wrong.<br > +Care delights to see you frowning,<br > + Loves to hear you sigh;<br > +Turn a smiling face upon her—<br > + Quick the dame will fly.</p> +<p class="poetry">Smile a little, smile a little,<br > + All along the road;<br > +Every life must have its burden,<br > + Every heart its load.<br > +Why sit down in gloom and darkness<br > + With your grief to sup?<br > +As you drink Fate’s bitter tonic,<br > + Smile across the cup.</p> +<p class="poetry">Smile upon the troubled pilgrims<br > + Whom you pass and meet;<br > +Frowns are thorns, and smiles are blossoms<br > + Oft for weary feet.<br > +Do not make the way seem harder<br > + By a sullen face;<br > +Smile a little, smile a little,<br > + Brighten up the place.</p> +<p class="poetry">Smile upon your undone labour;<br > + Not for one who grieves<br > +O’er his task waits wealth or glory;<br > + He who smiles achieves.<br > +Though you meet with loss and sorrow<br > + In the passing years,<br > +Smile a little, smile a little,<br > + Even through your tears.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem37"></a>THE UNDISCOVERED COUNTRY</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Man has explored all countries and all +lands,<br > +And made his own the secrets of each clime.<br > +Now, ere the world has fully reached its prime,<br > +The oval earth lies compassed with steel bands,<br > +The seas are slaves to ships that touch all strands,<br > + And even the haughty elements, sublime<br > + And bold, yield him their secrets for all time,<br +> +And speed like lackeys forth at his commands.</p> +<p class="poetry">Still, though he search from shore to distant +shore,<br > + And no strange realms, no unlocated plains<br > +Are left for his attainment and control,<br > +Yet is there one more kingdom to explore.<br > + Go, know thyself, O man! there yet remains<br > +The undiscovered country of thy soul!</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem38"></a>THE UNIVERSAL ROUTE</h2> + +<p class="poetry">As we journey along, with a laugh and a +song,<br > + We see, on youth’s flower-decked slope,<br > +Like a beacon of light, shining fair on the sight,<br > + The beautiful Station of Hope.</p> +<p class="poetry">But the wheels of old Time roll along as we +climb,<br > + And our youth speeds away on the years;<br > +And with hearts that are numb with life’s sorrows we +come<br > + To the mist-covered Station of Tears.</p> +<p class="poetry">Still onward we pass, where the milestones, +alas!<br > + Are the tombs of our dead, to the West,<br > +Where glitters and gleams, in the dying sunbeams,<br > + The sweet, silent Station of Rest.</p> +<p class="poetry">All rest is but change, and no grave can estrange<br > + The soul from its Parent above;<br > +And, scorning the rod, it soars back to its God,<br > + To the limitless City of Love.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem39"></a>UNANSWERED PRAYERS</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Like some schoolmaster, kind in being stern,<br +> +Who hears the children crying o’er their slates<br > +And calling, “Help me, master!” yet helps not,<br > +Since in his silence and refusal lies<br > +Their self-development, so God abides<br > +Unheeding many prayers. He is not deaf<br > +To any cry sent up from earnest hearts;<br > +He hears and strengthens when He must deny.<br > +He sees us weeping over life’s hard sums;<br > +But should He give the key and dry our tears,<br > +What would it profit us when school were done<br > +And not one lesson mastered?</p> +<p class="poetry"> What a +world<br > +Were this if all our prayers were answered. Not<br > +In famed Pandora’s box were such vast ills<br > +As lie in human hearts. Should our desires,<br > +Voiced one by one in prayer, ascend to God<br > +And come back as events shaped to our wish,<br > +What chaos would result!</p> +<p class="poetry"> In my +fierce youth<br > +I sighed out breath enough to move a fleet,<br > +Voicing wild prayers to heaven for fancied boons<br > +Which were denied; and that denial bends<br > +My knee to prayers of gratitude each day<br > +Of my maturer years. Yet from those prayers<br > +I rose alway regirded for the strife<br > +And conscious of new strength. Pray on, sad heart,<br > +That which thou pleadest for may not be given,<br > +But in the lofty altitude where souls<br > +Who supplicate God’s grace are lifted, there<br > +Thou shalt find help to bear thy daily lot<br > +Which is not elsewhere found.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem40"></a>THANKSGIVING</h2> + +<p class="poetry">We walk on starry fields of white<br > + And do not see the daisies,<br > +For blessings common in our sight<br > + We rarely offer praises.<br > +We sigh for some supreme delight<br > + To crown our lives with splendour,<br > +And quite ignore our daily store<br > + Of pleasures sweet and tender.</p> +<p class="poetry">Our cares are bold and push their way<br > + Upon our thought and feeling;<br > +They hang about us all the day,<br > + Our time from pleasure stealing.<br > +So unobtrusive many a joy<br > + We pass by and forget it,<br > +But worry strives to own our lives,<br > + And conquers if we let it.</p> +<p class="poetry">There’s not a day in all the year<br > + But holds some hidden pleasure,<br > +And, looking back, joys oft appear<br > + To brim the past’s wide measure.<br > +But blessings are like friends, I hold,<br > + Who love and labour near us.<br > +We ought to raise our notes of praise<br > + While living hearts can hear us.</p> +<p class="poetry">Full many a blessing wears the guise<br > + Of worry or of trouble;<br > +Far-seeing is the soul, and wise,<br > + Who knows the mask is double.<br > +But he who has the faith and strength<br > + To thank his God for sorrow<br > +Has found a joy without alloy<br > + To gladden every morrow.</p> +<p class="poetry">We ought to make the moments notes<br > + Of happy, glad Thanksgiving;<br > +The hours and days a silent phrase<br > + Of music we are living.<br > +And so the theme should swell and grow<br > + As weeks and months pass o’er us,<br > +And rise sublime at this good time,<br > + A grand Thanksgiving chorus.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem41"></a>CONTRASTS</h2> + +<p class="poetry">I see the tall church steeples—<br > + They reach so far, so far;<br > +But the eyes of my heart see the world’s great mart<br > +Where the starving people are.</p> +<p class="poetry"> I hear the church bells +ringing<br > + Their chimes on the morning air;<br > +But my soul’s sad ear is hurt to hear<br > + The poor man’s cry of despair.</p> +<p class="poetry">Thicker and thicker the churches,<br > + Nearer and nearer the sky—<br > +But alack for their creeds while the poor man’s needs<br > + Grow deeper as years roll by!</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem42"></a>THY SHIP</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Hadst thou a ship, in whose vast hold lay +stored<br > +The priceless riches of all climes and lands,<br > +Say, wouldst thou let it float upon the seas<br > +Unpiloted, of fickle winds the sport,<br > +And of wild waves and hidden rocks the prey?</p> +<p class="poetry">Thine is that ship; and in its depths +concealed<br > +Lies all the wealth of this vast universe—<br > +Yea, lies some part of God’s omnipotence,<br > +The legacy divine of every soul.<br > +Thy will, O man, thy will is that great ship,<br > +And yet behold it drifting here and there—<br > +One moment lying motionless in port,<br > +Then on high seas by sudden impulse flung,<br > +Then drying on the sands, and yet again<br > +Sent forth on idle quests to no-man’s land<br > +To carry nothing and to nothing bring;<br > +Till, worn and fretted by the aimless strife<br > +And buffeted by vacillating winds,<br > +It founders on a rock, or springs a leak,<br > +With all its unused treasures in the hold.</p> +<p class="poetry">Go save thy ship, thou sluggard; take the +wheel<br > +And steer to knowledge, glory, and success.<br > +Great mariners have made the pathway plain<br > +For thee to follow; hold thou to the course<br > +Of Concentration Channel, and all things<br > +Shall come in answer to thy swerveless wish<br > +As comes the needle to the magnet’s call,<br > +Or sunlight to the prisoned blade of grass<br > +That yearns all winter for the kiss of spring.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem43"></a>LIFE</h2> + +<p class="poetry">All in the dark we grope along,<br > + And if we go amiss<br > +We learn at least which path is wrong,<br > + And there is gain in this.</p> +<p class="poetry">We do not always win the race<br > + By only running right;<br > +We have to tread the mountain’s base<br > + Before we reach its height.</p> +<p class="poetry">The Christs alone no errors made;<br > + So often had they trod<br > +The paths that lead through light and shade,<br > + They had become as God.</p> +<p class="poetry">As Krishna, Buddha, Christ again,<br > + They passed along the way,<br > +And left those mighty truths which men<br > + But dimly grasp to-day.</p> +<p class="poetry">But he who loves himself the last<br > + And knows the use of pain,<br > +Though strewn with errors all his past,<br > + He surely shall attain.</p> +<p class="poetry">Some souls there are that needs must taste<br +> + Of wrong, ere choosing right;<br > +We should not call those years a waste<br > + Which led us to the light.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem44"></a>A MARINE ETCHING</h2> + +<p class="poetry">A yacht from its harbour ropes pulled free,<br +> +And leaped like a steed o’er the race-track blue,<br > +Then up behind her the dust of the sea,<br > +A gray fog, drifted, and hid her from view.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem45"></a>“LOVE THYSELF LAST”</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Love thyself last. Look near, behold thy +duty<br > + To those who walk beside thee down life’s +road.<br > +Make glad their days by little acts of beauty<br > + And help them bear the burden of earth’s +load.</p> +<p class="poetry">Love thyself last. Look far and find the +stranger<br > + Who staggers ’neath his sin and his +despair;<br > +Go, lend a hand, and lead him out of danger,<br > + To heights where he may see the world is fair.</p> +<p class="poetry">Love thyself last. The vastnesses above +thee<br > + Are filled with Spirit-Forces; strong and pure<br > +And fervently these faithful friends shall love thee<br > + Keep thou thy watch o’er others and +endure.</p> +<p class="poetry">Love thyself last, and oh! such joy shall thrill thee<br > + As never yet to selfish souls was given;<br > +Whate’er thy lot, a perfect peace will fill thee,<br > + And earth shall seem the ante-room of Heaven.</p> +<p class="poetry">Love thyself last, and thou shalt grow in +spirit<br > + To see, to hear, to know, and understand.<br > +The message of the stars, lo, thou shalt hear it,<br > + And all God’s joys shall be at thy +command.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem46"></a>CHRISTMAS FANCIES</h2> + +<p class="poetry">When Christmas bells are swinging above the +fields of snow,<br > +We hear sweet voices ringing from lands of long ago,<br > + And etched on vacant places<br > + Are half-forgotten faces<br > +Of friends we used to cherish, and loves we used to +know—<br > +When Christmas bells are swinging above the fields of snow.</p> +<p class="poetry">Uprising from the ocean of the present surging +near,<br > +We see, with strange emotion, that is not free from fear,<br > + That continent Elysian<br > + Long vanished from our vision,<br > +Youth’s lovely lost Atlantis, so mourned for and so +dear,<br > +Uprising from the ocean of the present surging near.</p> +<p class="poetry">When gloomy, gray Decembers are roused to Christmas +mirth,<br > +The dullest life remembers there once was joy on earth,<br > + And draws from youth’s recesses<br > + Some memory it possesses,<br > +And, gazing through the lens of time, exaggerates its worth,<br +> +When gloomy, gray December is roused to Christmas mirth.</p> +<p class="poetry">When hanging up the holly or mistletoe, I +wis<br > +Each heart recalls some folly that lit the world with bliss.<br +> + Not all the seers and sages<br > + With wisdom of the ages<br > +Can give the mind such pleasure as memories of that kiss<br > +When hanging up the holly or mistletoe, I wis.</p> +<p class="poetry">For life was made for loving, and love alone +repays,<br > +As passing years are proving, for all of Time’s sad +ways.<br > + There lies a sting in pleasure,<br > + And fame gives shallow measure,<br > +And wealth is but a phantom that mocks the restless days,<br > +For life was made for loving, and only loving pays.</p> +<p class="poetry">When Christmas bells are pelting the air with silver +chimes,<br > +And silences are melting to soft, melodious rhymes,<br > + Let Love, the world’s beginning,<br > + End fear and hate and sinning;<br > +Let Love, the God Eternal, be worshipped in all climes<br > +When Christmas bells are pelting the air with silver chimes.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem47"></a>THE RIVER</h2> + +<p class="poetry">I am a river flowing from God’s sea<br > +Through devious ways. He mapped my course for me;<br > +I cannot change it; mine alone the toil<br > +To keep the waters free from grime and soil.<br > +The winding river ends where it began;<br > +And when my life has compassed its brief span<br > +I must return to that mysterious source.<br > +So let me gather daily on my course<br > +The perfume from the blossoms as I pass,<br > +Balm from the pines, and healing from the grass,<br > +And carry down my current as I go<br > +Not common stones but precious gems to show;<br > +And tears (the holy water from sad eyes)<br > +Back to God’s sea, from which all rivers rise,<br > +Let me convey, not blood from wounded hearts,<br > +Nor poison which the upas tree imparts.<br > +When over flowery vales I leap with joy,<br > +Let me not devastate them, nor destroy,<br > +But rather leave them fairer to the sight;<br > +Mine be the lot to comfort and delight.<br > +And if down awful chasms I needs must leap,<br > +Let me not murmur at my lot, but sweep<br > +On bravely to the end without one fear,<br > +Knowing that He who planned my ways stands near.<br > +Love sent me forth, to Love I go again,<br > +For Love is all, and over all. Amen.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem48"></a>SORRY</h2> + +<p class="poetry">There is much that makes me sorry as I journey +down life’s way,<br > +And I seem to see more pathos in poor human lives each day.<br > +I’m sorry for the strong, brave men who shield the weak +from harm,<br > +But who, in their own troubled hours, find no protecting arm.</p> +<p class="poetry">I’m sorry for the victors who have +reached success, to stand<br > +As targets for the arrows shot by envious failure’s +hand.<br > +I’m sorry for the generous hearts who freely shared their +wine,<br > +But drink alone the gall of tears in fortune’s drear +decline.</p> +<p class="poetry">I’m sorry for the souls who build their own +fame’s funeral pyre,<br > +Derided by the scornful throng like ice deriding fire.<br > +I’m sorry for the conquering ones who know not sin’s +defeat,<br > +But daily tread down fierce desire ’neath scorched and +bleeding feet.</p> +<p class="poetry">I’m sorry for the anguished hearts that +break with passion’s strain,<br > +But I’m sorrier for the poor starved souls that never knew +love’s pain,<br > +Who hunger on through barren years not tasting joys they +crave,<br > +For sadder far is such a lot than weeping o’er a grave.</p> +<p class="poetry">I’m sorry for the souls that come +unwelcomed into birth,<br > +I’m sorry for the unloved old who cumber up the earth,<br +> +I’m sorry for the suffering poor in life’s great +maelstrom hurled—<br > +In truth, I’m sorry for them all who make this aching +world.</p> +<p class="poetry">But underneath whate’er seems sad and is not +understood,<br > +I know there lies hid from our sight a mighty germ of good.<br > +And this belief stands firm by me, my sermon, motto, +text—<br > +The sorriest things in this life will seem grandest in the +next.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem49"></a>AMBITION’S TRAIL</h2> + +<p class="poetry">If all the end of this continuous striving<br +> + Were simply <i>to attain</i>,<br > +How poor would seem the planning and contriving,<br > +The endless urging and the hurried driving,<br > + Of body, heart, and brain!</p> +<p class="poetry">But ever in the wake of true achieving<br > + There shines this glowing trail—<br > +Some other soul will be spurred on, conceiving<br > +New strength and hope, in its own power believing,<br > + Because <i>thou</i> didst not fail.</p> +<p class="poetry">Not thine alone the glory, nor the sorrow,<br +> + If thou dost miss the goal;<br > +Undreamed of lives in many a far to-morrow<br > +From thee their weakness or their force shall borrow—<br > + On, on, ambitious soul.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem50"></a>UNCONTROLLED</h2> + +<p class="poetry">The mighty forces of mysterious space<br > + Are one by one subdued by lordly man.<br > + The awful lightning that for eons ran<br > + Their devastating and untrammelled race,<br > +Now bear his messages from place to place<br > + Like carrier doves. The winds lead on his +van;<br > + The lawless elements no longer can<br > +Resist his strength, but yield with sullen grace.</p> +<p class="poetry">His bold feet scaling heights before untrod,<br +> + Light, darkness, air and water, heat and cold,<br > + He bids go forth and bring him +power and pelf.<br > +And yet, though ruler, king and demi-god,<br > + He walks with his fierce passions uncontrolled,<br +> + The conqueror of all +things—save himself.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem51"></a>WILL</h2> + +<p class="poetry">You will be what you will to be;<br > + Let failure find its false content<br > + In that poor word “environment,”<br > +But spirit scorns it, and is free.</p> +<p class="poetry">It masters time, it conquers space,<br > + It cowes that boastful trickster Chance,<br > + And bids the tyrant Circumstance<br > +Uncrown and fill a servant’s place.</p> +<p class="poetry">The human Will, that force unseen,<br > + The offspring of a deathless Soul,<br > + Can hew the way to any goal,<br > +Though walls of granite intervene.</p> +<p class="poetry">Be not impatient in delay,<br > + But wait as one who understands;<br > + When spirit rises and commands,<br > +The gods are ready to obey.</p> +<p class="poetry">The river seeking for the sea<br > + Confronts the dam and precipice,<br > + Yet knows it cannot fail or miss;<br > +<i>You will be what you will to be</i>!</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem52"></a>TO AN ASTROLOGER</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Nay, seer, I do not doubt thy mystic lore,<br > +Nor question that the tenor of my life,<br > +Past, present, and the future, is revealed<br > +There in my horoscope. I do believe<br > +That yon dead moon compels the haughty seas<br > +To ebb and flow, and that my natal star<br > +Stands like a stern-browed sentinel in space<br > +And challenges events; nor lets one grief,<br > +Or joy, or failure, or success, pass on<br > +To mar or bless my earthly lot, until<br > +It proves its Karmic right to come to me.</p> +<p class="poetry">All this I grant, but more than this I +<i>know</i>!<br > +Before the solar systems were conceived,<br > +When nothing was but the unnamable,<br > +My spirit lived, an atom of the Cause.<br > +Through countless ages and in many forms<br > +It has existed, ere it entered in<br > +This human frame to serve its little day<br > +Upon the earth. The deathless Me of me.<br > +The spark from that great all-creative fire,<br > +Is part of that eternal source called God,<br > +And mightier than the universe.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Why, he<br +> +Who knows, and knowing, never once forgets<br > +The pedigree divine of his own soul,<br > +Can conquer, shape, and govern destiny,<br > +And use vast space as ’twere a board for chess<br > +With stars for pawns; can change his horoscope<br > +To suit his will; turn failure to success,<br > +And from preordained sorrows, harvest joy.</p> +<p class="poetry">There is no puny planet, sun, or moon,<br > +Or zodiacal sign which can control<br > +The God in us! If we bring <i>that</i> to bear<br > +Upon events, we mould them to our wish;<br > +’Tis when the infinite ’neath the finite gropes<br > +That men are governed by their horoscopes.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem53"></a>THE TENDRIL’S FATE</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Under the snow, in the dark and the cold,<br > + A pale little sprout was humming;<br > +Sweetly it sang, ’neath the frozen mould,<br > + Of the beautiful days that were coming.</p> +<p class="poetry">“How foolish your songs!” said a +lump of clay;<br > + “What is there, I ask, to prove them?<br > +Just look at the walls between you and the day,<br > + Now, have you the strength to move them?”</p> +<p class="poetry">But under the ice and under the snow<br > + The pale little sprout kept singing,<br > +“I cannot tell how, but I know, I know,<br > + I know what the days are bringing.</p> +<p class="poetry">“Birds, and blossoms, and buzzing bees,<br > + Blue, blue skies above me,<br > +Bloom on the meadows and buds on the trees<br > + And the great glad sun to love me.”</p> +<p class="poetry">A pebble spoke next: “You are quite +absurd,”<br > + It said, “with your song’s +insistence;<br > +For <i>I</i> never saw a tree or a bird,<br > + So of course there are none in existence.”</p> +<p class="poetry">“But I know, I know,” the tendril +cried,<br > + In beautiful sweet unreason;<br > +Till lo! from its prison, glorified,<br > + It burst in the glad spring season.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem54"></a>THE TIMES</h2> + +<p class="poetry"> The times are not +degenerate. Man’s faith<br > +Mounts higher than of old. No crumbling creed<br > +Can take from the immortal soul the need<br > + Of that supreme Creator, God. The wraith<br > +Of dead beliefs we cherished in our youth<br > +Fades but to let us welcome new-born Truth.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Man may not worship at the +ancient shrine<br > +Prone on his face, in self-accusing scorn.<br > +That night is past. He hails a fairer morn,<br > + And knows himself a something all divine;<br > +Not humble worm whose heritage is sin,<br > +But, born of God, he feels the Christ withal.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Not loud his prayers, as in the +olden time,<br > +But deep his reverence for that mighty force,<br > +That occult working of the great All-Source,<br > + Which makes the present era so sublime.<br > +Religion now means something high and broad.<br > +And man stood never half so near to God.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem55"></a>THE QUESTION</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Beside us in our seeking after pleasures,<br > + Through all our restless striving after fame,<br > +Through all our search for worldly gains and treasures,<br > + There walketh one whom no man likes to name.<br > +Silent he follows, veiled of form and feature,<br > + Indifferent if we sorrow or rejoice,<br > +Yet that day comes when every living creature<br > + Must look upon his face and hear his voice.</p> +<p class="poetry">When that day comes to you, and Death, +unmasking,<br > + Shall bar your path, and say, “Behold the +end,”<br > +What are the questions that he will be asking<br > + About your past? Have you considered, +friend?<br > +I think he will not chide you for your sinning,<br > + Nor for your creeds or dogmas will he care;<br > +He will but ask, “From your life’s first beginning<br +> + How many burdens have you helped to bear?”</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem56"></a>SORROW’S USES</h2> + +<p class="poetry">The uses of sorrow I comprehend<br > +Better and better at each year’s end.</p> +<p class="poetry">Deeper and deeper I seem to see<br > +Why and wherefore it has to be.</p> +<p class="poetry">Only after the dark, wet days<br > +Do we fully rejoice in the sun’s bright rays.</p> +<p class="poetry">Sweeter the crust tastes after the fast<br > +Than the sated gourmand’s finest repast.</p> +<p class="poetry">The faintest cheer sounds never amiss<br > +To the actor who once has heard a hiss.</p> +<p class="poetry">To one who the sadness of freedom knows,<br > +Light seem the fetters love may impose.</p> +<p class="poetry">And he who has dwelt with his heart alone,<br +> +Hears all the music in friendship’s tone.</p> +<p class="poetry">So better and better I comprehend<br > +How sorrow ever would be our friend.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem57"></a>IF</h2> + +<p class="poetry">’Twixt what thou art, and what thou +wouldst be, let<br > +No “If” arise on which to lay the blame.<br > +Man makes a mountain of that puny word,<br > +But, like a blade of grass before the scythe,<br > +It falls and withers when a human will,<br > +Stirred by creative force, sweeps toward its aim.</p> +<p class="poetry">Thou wilt be what thou couldst be. +Circumstance<br > +Is but the toy of genius. When a soul<br > +Burns with a god-like purpose to achieve,<br > +All obstacles between it and its goal<br > +Must vanish as the dew before the sun.</p> +<p class="poetry">“If” is the motto of the dilettante<br > +And idle dreamer; ’tis the poor excuse<br > +Of mediocrity. The truly great<br > +Know not the word, or know it but to scorn,<br > +Else had Joan of Arc a peasant died,<br > +Uncrowned by glory and by men unsung.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem58"></a>WHICH ARE YOU?</h2> + +<p class="poetry">There are two kinds of people on earth +to-day;<br > +Just two kinds of people, no more, I say.</p> +<p class="poetry">Not the sinner and saint, for it’s well +understood<br > +The good are half bad, and the bad are half good.</p> +<p class="poetry">Not the rich and the poor, for to rate a +man’s wealth<br > +You must first know the state of his conscience and health.</p> +<p class="poetry">Not the humble and proud, for, in life’s +little span,<br > +Who puts on vain airs is not counted a man.</p> +<p class="poetry">Not the happy and sad, for the swift flying +years<br > +Bring each man his laughter, and each man his tears.</p> +<p class="poetry">No; the two kinds of people on earth I mean<br > +Are the people who lift, and the people who lean.</p> +<p class="poetry">Wherever you go, you will find the +earth’s masses<br > +Are always divided in just these two classes.</p> +<p class="poetry">And, oddly enough, you will find too, I +ween,<br > +There’s only one lifter to twenty who lean.</p> +<p class="poetry">In which class are you? Are you easing +the load<br > +Of overtaxed lifters, who toil down the road?</p> +<p class="poetry">Or are you a leaner, who lets others share<br +> +Your portion of labour and worry and care?</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem59"></a>THE CREED TO BE</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Our thoughts are moulding unmade spheres,<br > + And, like a blessing or a curse,<br > +They thunder down the formless years,<br > + And ring throughout the universe.</p> +<p class="poetry">We build our futures by the shape<br > + Of our desires, and not by acts.<br > +There is no pathway of escape;<br > + No priest-made creeds can alter facts.</p> +<p class="poetry">Salvation is not begged or bought;<br > + Too long this selfish hope sufficed;<br > +Too long man reeked with lawless thought,<br > + And leaned upon a tortured Christ.</p> +<p class="poetry">Like shrivelled leaves, these worn-out creeds<br > + Are dropping from Religion’s tree;<br > +The world begins to know its needs,<br > + And souls are crying to be free.</p> +<p class="poetry">Free from the load of fear and grief,<br > + Man fashioned in an ignorant age;<br > +Free from the ache of unbelief<br > + He fled to in rebellious rage.</p> +<p class="poetry">No church can bind him to the things<br > + That fed the first crude souls, evolved;<br > +For, mounting up on daring wings,<br > + He questions mysteries all unsolved.</p> +<p class="poetry">Above the chant of priests, above<br > + The blatant voice of braying doubt,<br > +He hears the still, small voice of Love,<br > + Which sends its simple message out.</p> +<p class="poetry">And clearer, sweeter, day by day,<br > + Its mandate echoes from the skies,<br > +“Go roll the stone of self away,<br > + And let the Christ within thee rise.”</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem60"></a>INSPIRATION</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Not like a daring, bold, aggressive boy,<br > + Is inspiration, eager to pursue,<br > +But rather like a maiden, fond, yet coy,<br > + Who gives herself to him who best doth woo.</p> +<p class="poetry">Once she may smile, or thrice, thy soul to +fire,<br > + In passing by, but when she turns her face,<br > +Thou must persist and seek her with desire,<br > + If thou wouldst win the favour of her grace.</p> +<p class="poetry">And if, like some winged bird, she cleaves the +air,<br > + And leaves thee spent and stricken on the earth,<br +> +Still must thou strive to follow even there,<br > + That she may know thy valour and thy worth.</p> +<p class="poetry">Then shall she come unveiling all her charms,<br > + Giving thee joy for pain, and smiles for tears;<br +> +Then shalt thou clasp her with possessing arms,<br > + The while she murmurs music in thine ears.</p> +<p class="poetry">But ere her kiss has faded from thy cheek,<br +> + She shall flee from thee over hill and glade,<br > +So must thou seek and ever seek and seek<br > + For each new conquest of this phantom maid</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem61"></a>THE WISH</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Should some great angel say to me to-morrow,<br +> + “Thou must re-tread thy pathway from the +start,<br > +But God will grant, in pity, for thy sorrow,<br > + Some one dear wish, the nearest to thy +heart.”</p> +<p class="poetry">This were my wish!—from my life’s +dim beginning<br > + <i>Let be what has been</i>! wisdom planned the +whole<br > +My want, my woe, my errors, and my sinning,<br > + All, all were needed lessons for my soul.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem62"></a>THREE FRIENDS</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Of all the blessings which my life has +known,<br > +I value most, and most praise God for three:<br > +Want, Loneliness, and Pain, those comrades true,</p> +<p class="poetry">Who masqueraded in the garb of foes<br > +For many a year, and filled my heart with dread.<br > +Yet fickle joys, like false, pretentious friends,<br > +Have proved less worthy than this trio. First,</p> +<p class="poetry">Want taught me labour, led me up the steep<br +> +And toilsome paths to hills of pure delight,<br > +Trod only by the feet that know fatigue,<br > +And yet press on until the heights appear.</p> +<p class="poetry">Then loneliness and hunger of the heart<br > +Sent me upreaching to the realms of space,<br > +Till all the silences grew eloquent,<br > +And all their loving forces hailed me friend.</p> +<p class="poetry">Last, pain taught prayer! placed in my hand the +staff<br > +Of close communion with the over-soul,<br > +That I might lean upon it to the end,<br > +And find myself made strong for any strife.</p> +<p class="poetry">And then these three who had pursued my +steps<br > +Like stern, relentless foes, year after year,<br > +Unmasked, and turned their faces full on me,<br > +And lo! they were divinely beautiful,<br > +For through them shone the lustrous eyes of Love.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem63"></a>YOU NEVER CAN TELL</h2> + +<p class="poetry">You never can tell when you send a word,<br > + Like an arrow shot from a bow<br > +By an archer blind, be it cruel or kind,<br > + Just where it may chance to go!<br > +It may pierce the breast of your dearest friend,<br > + Tipped with its poison or balm;<br > +To a stranger’s heart in life’s great mart,<br > + It may carry its pain or its calm.</p> +<p class="poetry">You never can tell when you do an act<br > + Just what the result will be;<br > +But with every deed you are sowing a seed,<br > + Though the harvest you may not see.<br > +Each kindly act is an acorn dropped<br > + In God’s productive soil.<br > +You may not know, but the tree shall grow,<br > + With shelter for those who toil.</p> +<p class="poetry">You never can tell what your thoughts will do,<br > + In bringing you hate or love;<br > +For thoughts are things, and their airy wings<br > + Are swifter than carrier doves.<br > +They follow the law of the universe—<br > + Each thing must create its kind;<br > +And they speed o’er the track to bring you back<br > + <i>Whatever went out from your mind</i>.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem64"></a>HERE AND NOW</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Here, in the heart of the world,<br > + Here, in the noise and the din,<br > +Here, where our spirits were hurled<br > + To battle with sorrow and sin,<br > +This is the place and the spot<br > + For knowledge of infinite things<br > +This is the kingdom where Thought<br > + Can conquer the prowess of kings</p> +<p class="poetry">Wait for no heavenly life,<br > + Seek for no temple alone;<br > +Here, in the midst of the strife,<br > + Know what the sages have known.<br > +See what the Perfect Ones saw—<br > + God in the depth of each soul,<br > +God as the light and the law,<br > + God as beginning and goal.</p> +<p class="poetry">Earth is one chamber of Heaven,<br > + Death is no grander than birth.<br > +Joy in the life that was given,<br > + Strive for perfection on earth;<br > +Here, in the turmoil and roar,<br > + Show what it is to be calm;<br > +Show how the spirit can soar<br > + And bring back its healing and balm.</p> +<p class="poetry">Stand not aloof nor apart,<br > + Plunge in the thick of the fight;<br > +There, in the street and the mart,<br > + That is the place to do right.<br > +Not in some cloister or cave,<br > + Not in some kingdom above,<br > +Here, on this side of the grave,<br > + Here, should we labour and love.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem65"></a>UNCONQUERED</h2> + +<p class="poetry">However skilled and strong art thou, my foe,<br +> +However fierce is thy relentless hate,<br > +Though firm thy hand, and strong thy aim, and straight<br > +Thy poisoned arrow leaves the bended bow,</p> +<p class="poetry">To pierce the target of my heart, ah! know<br +> + I am the master yet of my own fate.<br > + Thou canst not rob me of my best estate,<br > +Though fortune, fame, and friends, yea, love shall go.</p> +<p class="poetry">Not to the dust shall my true self be +hurled,<br > + Nor shall I meet thy worst assaults dismayed;<br > + When all things in the balance are well weighed,<br +> +There is but one great danger in the world—<br > + <i>Thou canst not force my soul to wish thee +ill</i>,<br > + That is the only evil that can kill.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem66"></a>ALL THAT LOVE ASKS</h2> + +<p class="poetry"> “All that I ask,” +says Love, “is just to stand<br > + And gaze, unchided, deep in thy dear eyes;<br > + For in their depths lies largest Paradise.<br > +Yet, if perchance one pressure of thy hand<br > + Be granted me, then joy I thought complete<br > + Were still more sweet.</p> +<p class="poetry"> “All that I ask,” +says Love, “all that I ask,<br > + Is just thy hand-clasp. Could I brush thy +cheek<br > + As zephyrs brush a rose leaf, words are weak<br > +To tell the bliss in which my soul would bask.<br > + There is no language but would desecrate<br > + A joy so great.</p> +<p class="poetry"> “All that I ask, is just one +tender touch<br > + Of that soft cheek. Thy pulsing palm in +mine,<br > + Thy dark eyes lifted in a trust divine,<br > +And those curled lips that tempt me overmuch<br > + Turned where I may not seize the supreme bliss<br > + Of one mad kiss.</p> +<p class="poetry"> “All that I ask,” +says Love, “of life, of death,<br > + Or of high heaven itself, is just to stand,<br > + Glance melting into glance, hand twined in hand,<br +> +The while I drink the nectar of thy breath<br > + In one sweet kiss, but one, of all thy store,<br > + I ask no more.”</p> +<p class="poetry"> “All that I +ask”—nay, self-deceiving Love,<br > + Reverse thy phrase, so thus the words may fall,<br +> + In place of “all I ask,” say, “I +ask all,”<br > +All that pertains to earth or soars above,<br > + All that thou wert, art, will be, body, soul,<br > + Love asks the whole,</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem67"></a>“DOES IT PAY?”</h2> + +<p class="poetry">If one poor burdened toiler o’er +life’s road,<br > + Who meets us by the way,<br > +Goes on less conscious of his galling load,<br > + Then life, indeed, does pay.</p> +<p class="poetry">If we can show one troubled heart the gain<br +> + That lies alway in loss,<br > +Why, then, we too are paid for all the pain<br > + Of bearing life’s hard cross.</p> +<p class="poetry">If some despondent soul to hope is stirred,<br +> + Some sad lip made to smile,<br > +By any act of ours, or any word,<br > + Then, life has been worth while.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem68"></a>SESTINA</h2> + +<p class="poetry">I wandered o’er the vast green plains of +youth,<br > +And searched for Pleasure. On a distant height<br > +Fame’s silhouette stood sharp against the skies.<br > +Beyond vast crowds that thronged a broad highway<br > +I caught the glimmer of a golden goal,<br > +While from a blooming bower smiled siren Love.</p> +<p class="poetry">Straight gazing in her eyes, I laughed at +Love<br > +With all the haughty insolence of youth,<br > +As past her bower I strode to seek my goal.<br > +“Now will I climb to glory’s dizzy height,”<br +> +I said, “for there above the common way<br > +Doth pleasure dwell companioned by the skies.”</p> +<p class="poetry">But when I reached that summit near the skies,<br > +So far from man I seemed, so far from Love—<br > +“Not here,” I cried, “doth Pleasure find her +way.”<br > +Seen from the distant borderland of youth,<br > +Fame smiles upon us from her sun-kissed height,<br > +But frowns in shadows when we reach the goal.</p> +<p class="poetry">Then were mine eyes fixed on that glittering +goal,<br > +Dear to all sense—sunk souls beneath the skies.<br > +Gold tempts the artist from the lofty height,<br > +Gold lures the maiden from the arms of Love,<br > +Gold buys the fresh, ingenuous heart of youth,<br > +“And gold,” I said, “will show me +Pleasure’s way.”</p> +<p class="poetry">But ah! the soil and discord of that way,<br > +Where savage hordes rushed headlong to the goal,<br > +Dead to the best impulses of their youth,<br > +Blind to the azure beauty of the skies;<br > +Dulled to the voice of conscience and of love,<br > +They wandered far from Truth’s eternal height.</p> +<p class="poetry">Then Truth spoke to me from that noble +height,<br > +Saying, “Thou didst pass Pleasure on the way,<br > +She with the yearning eyes so full of Love,<br > +Whom thou disdained to seek for glory’s goal.<br > +Two blending paths beneath God’s arching skies<br > +Lead straight to Pleasure. Ah! blind heart of youth,<br > +Not up fame’s height, not toward the base god’s +goal,<br > +Doth Pleasure make her way, but ’neath calm skies<br > +Where Duty walks with Love in endless youth.”</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem69"></a>>THE OPTIMIST</h2> + +<p class="poetry">The fields were bleak and sodden.<br > + Not a wing<br > +Or note enlivened the depressing wood;<br > +A soiled and sullen, stubborn snowdrift stood<br > +Beside the roadway. Winds came muttering<br > +Of storms to be, and brought the chilly sting<br > + Of icebergs in their breath. Stalled cattle +mooed<br > + Forth plaintive pleadings for the earth’s +green food.<br > +No gleam, no hint of hope in anything.</p> +<p class="poetry">The sky was blank and ashen, like the face<br +> + Of some poor wretch who drains life’s cup too +fast<br > +Yet, swaying to and fro, as if to fling<br > +About chilled Nature its lithe arms of grace,<br > + Smiling with promise in the wintry blast,<br > +The optimistic Willow spoke of spring.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem70"></a>THE PESSIMIST</h2> + +<p class="poetry">The pessimistic locust, last to leaf,<br > +Though all the world is glad, still talks of grief.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem71"></a>AN INSPIRATION</h2> + +<p class="poetry">However the battle is ended,<br > + Though proudly the victor comes<br > +With fluttering flags and prancing nags<br > + And echoing roll of drums,<br > +Still truth proclaims this motto<br > + In letters of living light,—<br > +No question is ever settled<br > + Until it is settled right.</p> +<p class="poetry">Though the heel of the strong oppressor<br > + May grind the weak in the dust;<br > +And the voices of fame with one acclaim<br > + May call him great and just,<br > +Let those who applaud take warning.<br > + And keep this motto in sight,—<br > +No question is ever settled<br > + Until it is settled right.</p> +<p class="poetry">Let those who have failed take courage;<br > + Though the enemy seems to have won,<br > +Though his ranks are strong, if he be in the wrong<br > + The battle is not yet done;<br > +For, sure as the morning follows<br > + The darkest hour of the night,<br > +No question is ever settled<br > + Until it is settled right.</p> +<p class="poetry">O man bowed down with labour!<br > + O woman young, yet old!<br > +O heart oppressed in the toiler’s breast<br > + And crushed by the power of gold<br > +Keep on with your weary battle<br > + Against triumphant might;<br > +No question is ever settled<br > + Until it is settled right.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem72"></a>LIFE’S HARMONIES</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Let no man pray that he know not sorrow,<br > + Let no soul ask to be free from pain,<br > +For the gall of to-day is the sweet of to-morrow,<br > + And the moment’s loss is the lifetime’s +gain.</p> +<p class="poetry">Through want of a thing does its worth +redouble,<br > + Through hunger’s pangs does the feast +content,<br > +And only the heart that has harboured trouble<br > + Can fully rejoice when joy is sent.</p> +<p class="poetry">Let no man shrink from the bitter tonics<br > + Of grief, and yearning, and need, and strife,<br > +For the rarest chords in the soul’s harmonics<br > + Are found in the minor strains of life.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem73"></a>PREPARATION</h2> + +<p class="poetry">We must not force events, but rather make<br > +The heart soil ready for their coming, as<br > +The earth spreads carpets for the feet of Spring,<br > +Or, with the strengthening tonic of the frost,<br > +Prepares for winter. Should a July noon<br > +Burst suddenly upon a frozen world<br > +Small joy would follow, even though that world<br > +Were longing for the Summer. Should the sting<br > +Of sharp December pierce the heart of June,<br > +What death and devastation would ensue!<br > +All things are planned. The most majestic sphere<br > +That whirls through space is governed and controlled<br > +By supreme law, as is the blade of grass<br > +Which through the bursting bosom of the earth<br > +Creeps up to kiss the light. Poor, puny man<br > +Alone doth strive and battle with the Force<br > +Which rules all lives and worlds, and he alone<br > +Demands effect before producing cause.<br > +How vain the hope! We cannot harvest joy<br > +Until we sow the seed, and God alone<br > +Knows when that seed has ripened. Oft we stand<br > +And watch the ground with anxious, brooding eyes,<br > +Complaining of the slow, unfruitful yield,<br > +Not knowing that the shadow of ourselves<br > +Keeps off the sunlight and delays result.<br > +Sometimes our fierce impatience of desire<br > +Doth like a sultry May force tender shoots<br > +Of half-formed pleasures and unshaped events<br > +To ripen prematurely, and we reap<br > +But disappointment; or we rot the germs<br > +With briny tears ere they have time to grow.<br > +While stars are born and mighty planets die<br > +And hissing comets scorch the brow of space,<br > +The Universe keeps its eternal calm.<br > +Through patient preparation, year on year,<br > +The earth endures the travail of the Spring<br > +And Winter’s desolation. So our souls<br > +In grand submission to a higher law<br > +Should move serene through all the ills of life<br > +Believing them masked joys.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem74"></a>Gethsemane</h2> + +<p class="poetry">In golden youth when seems the earth<br > +A Summer-land of singing mirth,<br > +When souls are glad and hearts are light,<br > +And not a shadow lurks in sight,<br > +We do not know it, but there lies<br > +Somewhere veiled under evening skies<br > +A garden which we all must see—<br > +The garden of Gethsemane.</p> +<p class="poetry">With joyous steps we go our ways,<br > +Love lends a halo to our days;<br > +Light sorrows sail like clouds afar,<br > +We laugh, and say how strong we are.<br > +We hurry on; and hurrying, go<br > +Close to the borderland of woe<br > +That waits for you, and waits for me—<br > +Forever waits Gethsemane.</p> +<p class="poetry">Down shadowy lanes, across strange streams,<br > +Bridged over by our broken dreams;<br > +Behind the misty caps of years,<br > +Beyond the great salt fount of tears,<br > +The garden lies. Strive as you may,<br > +You cannot miss it in your way;<br > +All paths that have been, or shall be,<br > +Pass somewhere through Gethsemane.</p> +<p class="poetry">All those who journey, soon or late,<br > +Must pass within the garden’s gate;<br > +Must kneel alone in darkness there,<br > +And battle with some fierce despair.<br > +God pity those who cannot say,<br > +“Not mine but Thine”; who only pray<br > +“Let this cup pass,” and cannot see<br > +The <i>purpose</i> in Gethsemane.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem75"></a>GOD’S MEASURE</h2> + +<p class="poetry">God measures souls by their capacity<br > +For entertaining his best Angel, Love.<br > +Who loveth most is nearest kin to God,<br > +Who is all Love, or Nothing.</p> +<p class="poetry"> He who +sits<br > +And looks out on the palpitating world,<br > +And feels his heart swell in him large enough<br > +To hold all men within it, he is near<br > +His great Creator’s standard, though he dwells<br > +Outside the pale of churches, and knows not<br > +A feast-day from a fast-day, or a line<br > +Of Scripture even. What God wants of us<br > +Is that outreaching bigness that ignores<br > +All littleness of aims, or loves, or creeds,<br > +And clasps all Earth and Heaven in its embrace.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem76"></a>NOBLESSE OBLIGE</h2> + +<p class="poetry">I hold it the duty of one who is gifted<br > + And specially dowered in all men’s sight,<br +> +To know no rest till his life is lifted<br > + Fully up to his great gifts’ height.</p> +<p class="poetry">He must mould the man into rare +completeness,<br > + For gems are set only in gold refined.<br > +He must fashion his thoughts into perfect sweetness.<br > + And cast out folly and pride from his mind.</p> +<p class="poetry">For he who drinks from a god’s gold +fountain<br > + Of art or music or rhythmic song<br > +Must sift from his soul the chaff of malice,<br > + And weed from his heart the roots of wrong.</p> +<p class="poetry">Great gifts should be worn, like a crown +befitting,<br > + And not like gems in a beggar’s hands!<br > +And the toil must be constant and unremitting<br > + Which lifts up the king to the crown’s +demands.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem77"></a>THROUGH TEARS</h2> + +<p class="poetry">An artist toiled over his pictures;<br > + He laboured by night and by day,<br > +He struggled for glory and honour<br > + But the world, it had nothing to say.<br > +His walls were ablaze with the splendours<br > + We see in the beautiful skies;<br > +But the world beheld only the colours<br > + That were made out of chemical dyes.</p> +<p class="poetry">Time sped. And he lived, loved, and +suffered;<br > + He passed through the valley of grief.<br > +Again he toiled over his canvas,<br > + Since in labour alone was relief.<br > +It showed not the splendour of colours<br > + Of those of his earlier years;<br > +But the world? the world bowed down before it<br > + Because it was painted with tears.</p> +<p class="poetry">A poet was gifted with genius,<br > + And he sang, and he sang all the days.<br > +He wrote for the praise of the people,<br > + But the people accorded no praise.<br > +Oh! his songs were as blithe as the morning,<br > + As sweet as the music of birds;<br > +But the world had no homage to offer,<br > + Because they were nothing but words.</p> +<p class="poetry">Time sped. And the poet through sorrow<br +> + Became like his suffering kind.<br > +Again he toiled over his poems<br > + To lighten the grief of his mind.<br > +They were not so flowing and rhythmic<br > + As those of his earlier years;<br > +But the world? lo! it offered its homage,<br > + Because they were written in tears.</p> +<p class="poetry">So ever the price must be given<br > + By those seeking glory in art;<br > +So ever the world is repaying<br > + The grief-stricken, suffering heart.<br > +The happy must ever be humble;<br > + Ambition must wait for the years<br > +Ere hoping to win the approval<br > + Of a world that looks on through its tears.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem78"></a>WHAT WE NEED</h2> + +<p class="poetry">What does our country need? No armies +standing<br > + With sabres gleaming ready for the fight;<br > +Not increased navies, skilful and commanding,<br > + To bound the waters with an iron might;<br > +Not haughty men with glutted purses trying<br > + To purchase souls, and keep the power of place;<br +> +Not jewelled dolls with one another vying<br > + For palms of beauty, elegance, and grace.</p> +<p class="poetry">But we want women, strong of soul, yet +lowly,<br > + With that rare meekness, born of gentleness;<br > +Women whose lives are pure and clean and holy,<br > + The women whom all little children bless;<br > +Brave, earnest women, helpful to each other,<br > + With finest scorn for all things low and mean;<br > +Women who hold the names of wife and mother<br > + Far nobler than the title of a queen.</p> +<p class="poetry">Oh! these are they who mould the men of +story,<br > + These mothers, ofttimes shorn of grace and youth,<br +> +Who, worn and weary, ask no greater glory<br > + Than making some young soul the home of truth;<br > +Who sow in hearts all fallow for the sowing<br > + The seeds of virtue and of scorn for sin,<br > +And, patient, watch the beauteous harvest growing<br > + And weed out tares which crafty hands cast in;</p> +<p class="poetry">Women who do not hold the gift of beauty<br > + As some rare treasure to be bought and sold.<br > +But guard it as a precious aid to duty—<br > + The outer framing of the inner gold;<br > +Women who, low above their cradles bending,<br > + Let flattery’s voice go by, and give no +heed,<br > +While their pure prayers like incense are ascending<br > + <i>These</i> are our country’s pride, our +country’s need.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem79"></a>PLEA TO SCIENCE</h2> + +<p class="poetry">O Science, reaching backward through the +distance,<br > + Most earnest child of God,<br > +Exposing all the secrets of existence,<br > + With thy divining rod,<br > +I bid thee speed up to the heights supernal,<br > + Clear thinker, ne’er sufficed;<br > +Go seek and bind the laws and truths eternal,<br > + But leave me Christ.</p> +<p class="poetry">Upon the vanity of pious sages<br > + Let in the light of day;<br > +Break down the superstitions of all ages—<br > + Thrust bigotry away;<br > +Stride on, and bid all stubborn foes defiance,<br > + Let Truth and Reason reign:<br > +But I beseech thee, O Immortal Science,<br > + Let Christ remain.</p> +<p class="poetry">What canst thou give to help me bear my crosses,<br > + In place of Him, my Lord?<br > +And what to recompense for all my losses,<br > + And bring me sweet reward?<br > +<i>Thou</i> couldst not with thy clear, cold eyes of reason,<br +> + Thou couldst not comfort me<br > +Like One who passed through that tear-blotted season<br > + In sad Gethsemane!</p> +<p class="poetry">Through all the weary, wearing hour of +sorrow,<br > + What word that thou hast said<br > +Would make me strong to wait for some to-morrow<br > + When I should find my dead?<br > +When I am weak, and desolate, and lonely—<br > + And prone to follow wrong?<br > +Not thou, O Science—Christ, my Saviour, only<br > + Can make me strong.</p> +<p class="poetry">Thou art so cold, so lofty, and so distant,<br +> + Though great my need might be,<br > +No prayer, however constant and persistent,<br > + Could bring thee down to me.<br > +Christ stands so near, to help me through each hour,<br > + To guide me day by day<br > +O Science, sweeping all before thy power—<br > + Leave Christ, I pray!</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem80"></a>RESPITE</h2> + +<p class="poetry">The mighty conflict, which we call +existence,<br > + Doth wear upon the body and the soul,<br > +Our vital forces wasted in resistance,<br > + So much there is to conquer and control.</p> +<p class="poetry">The rock which meets the billows with +defiance,<br > + Undaunted and unshaken day by day,<br > +In spite of its unyielding self-reliance,<br > + Is by the warfare surely worn away.</p> +<p class="poetry">And there are depths and heights of strong +emotions<br > + That surge at times within the human breast,<br > +More fierce than all the tides of all the oceans<br > + Which sweep on ever in divine unrest.</p> +<p class="poetry">I sometimes think the rock worn with adventures,<br > + And sad with thoughts of conflicts yet to be,<br > +Must envy the frail reed which no one censures,<br > + When, overcome, ’tis swallowed by the sea.</p> +<p class="poetry">This life is all resistance and repression.<br +> + Dear God, if in that other world unseen,<br > +Not rest we find, but new life and progression,<br > + Grant us a respite in the grave between.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem81"></a>SONG</h2> + +<p class="poetry">O praise me not with your lips, dear one!<br > + Though your tender words I prize.<br > +But dearer by far is the soulful gaze<br > + Of your eyes, your beautiful eyes<br > + Your tender, loving eyes.</p> +<p class="poetry">O chide me not with your lips, dear one!<br > + Though I cause your bosom sighs.<br > +You can make repentance deeper far<br > + By your sad, reproving eyes,<br > + Your sorrowful, troubled eyes.</p> +<p class="poetry">Words, at the best, are but hollow sounds;<br +> + Above, in the beaming skies,<br > +The constant stars say never a word,<br > + But only smile with their eyes—<br > + Smile on with their lustrous +eyes.</p> +<p class="poetry">Then breathe no vow with your lips, dear one;<br > + On the winged wind speech flies.<br > +But I read the truth of your noble heart<br > + In your soulful, speaking eyes—<br > + In your deep and beautiful +eyes.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem82"></a>MY SHIPS</h2> + +<p class="poetry">If all the ships I have at sea<br > +Should come a-sailing home to me,<br > +Ah, well! the harbour could not hold<br > +So many sails as there would be<br > +If all my ships came in from sea.</p> +<p class="poetry">If half my ships came home from sea,<br > +And brought their precious freight to me,<br > +Ah, well! I should have wealth as great<br > +As any king who sits in state—<br > +So rich the treasures that would be<br > +In half my ships now out at sea.</p> +<p class="poetry">If just one ship I have at sea<br > +Should come a-sailing home to me,<br > +Ah, well! the storm-clouds then might frown<br > +For if the others all went down,<br > +Still rich and proud and glad I’d be<br > +If that one ship came back to me.</p> +<p class="poetry">If that one ship went down at sea,<br > +And all the others came to me,<br > +Weighed down with gems and wealth untold,<br > +With glory, honours, riches, gold,<br > +The poorest soul on earth I’d be<br > +If that one ship came not to me.</p> +<p class="poetry">O skies, be calm! O winds, blow +free—<br > +Blow all my ships safe home to me!<br > +But if thou sendest some a-wrack,<br > +To never more come sailing back,<br > +Send any—all that skim the sea,<br > +But bring my love-ship home to me.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem83"></a>HER LOVE</h2> + +<p class="poetry">The sands upon the ocean side<br > +That change about with every tide,<br > +And never true to one abide,<br > + A woman’s love I liken to.</p> +<p class="poetry">The summer zephyrs, light and vain,<br > +That sing the same alluring strain<br > +To every grass blade on the plain—<br > + A woman’s love is nothing more.</p> +<p class="poetry">The sunshine of an April day<br > +That comes to warm you with its ray,<br > +But while you smile has flown away—<br > + A woman’s love is like to this.</p> +<p class="poetry">God made poor woman with no heart,<br > +But gave her skill, and tact, and art,<br > +And so she lives, and plays her part.<br > + We must not blame, but pity her.</p> +<p class="poetry">She leans to man—but just to hear<br > +The praise he whispers in her ear;<br > +Herself, not him, she holdeth dear—<br > + O fool! to be deceived by her.</p> +<p class="poetry">To sate her selfish thirst she quaffs<br > +The love of strong hearts in sweet draughts,<br > +Then throws them lightly by and laughs,<br > + Too weak to understand their pain.</p> +<p class="poetry">As changeful as the winds that blow<br > +From every region to and fro,<br > +Devoid of heart, she cannot know<br > + The suffering of a human heart.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem84"></a>IF</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Dear love, if you and I could sail away,<br > + With snowy pennons to the winds unfurled,<br > +Across the waters of some unknown bay,<br > + And find some island far from all the world;</p> +<p class="poetry">If we could dwell there, evermore alone,<br > + While unrecorded years slip by apace,<br > +Forgetting and forgotten and unknown<br > + By aught save native song-birds of the place;</p> +<p class="poetry">If Winter never visited that land,<br > + And Summer’s lap spilled o’er with +fruits and flowers,<br > +And tropic trees cast shade on every hand,<br > + And twinèd boughs formed sleep-inviting +bowers;</p> +<p class="poetry">If from the fashions of the world set free,<br > + And hid away from all its jealous strife,<br > +I lived alone for you, and you for me—<br > + Ah! then, dear love, how sweet were wedded life.</p> +<p class="poetry">But since we dwell here in the crowded way,<br +> + Where hurrying throngs rush by to seek for gold,<br +> +And all is commonplace and work-a-day<br > + As soon as love’s young honeymoon grows +old;</p> +<p class="poetry">Since fashion rules and nature yields to +art,<br > + And life is hurt by daily jar and fret,<br > +’Tis best to shut such dreams down in the heart<br > + And go our ways alone, love, and forget.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem85"></a>LOVE’S BURIAL</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Let us clear a little space,<br > +And make Love a burial-place.</p> +<p class="poetry">He is dead, dear, as you see,<br > +And he wearies you and me.</p> +<p class="poetry">Growing heavier, day by day,<br > +Let us bury him, I say.</p> +<p class="poetry">Wings of dead white butterflies,<br > +These shall shroud him, as he lies</p> +<p class="poetry">In his casket rich and rare,<br > +Made of finest maiden-hair.</p> +<p class="poetry">With the pollen of the rose<br > +Let us his white eyelids close.</p> +<p class="poetry">Put the rose thorn in his hand,<br > +Shorn of leaves—you understand.</p> +<p class="poetry">Let some holy water fall<br > +On his dead face, tears of gall—</p> +<p class="poetry">As we kneel to him and say,<br > +“Dreams to dreams,” and turn away.</p> +<p class="poetry">Those gravediggers, Doubt, Distrust,<br > +They will lower him to the dust.</p> +<p class="poetry">Let us part here with a kiss—<br > +You go that way, I go this.</p> +<p class="poetry">Since we buried Love to-day<br > +We will walk a separate way.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem86"></a>“LOVE IS ENOUGH”</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Love is enough. Let us not ask for +gold.<br > + Wealth breeds false aims, and pride, and +selfishness;<br > +In those serene, Arcadian days of old<br > + Men gave no thought to princely homes and dress.<br +> +The gods who dwelt on fair Olympia’s height<br > +Lived only for dear love and love’s delight.<br > + Love is enough.</p> +<p class="poetry">Love is enough. Why should we care for +fame?<br > + Ambition is a most unpleasant guest:<br > +It lures us with the glory of a name<br > + Far from the happy haunts of peace and rest.<br > +Let us stay here in this secluded place<br > +Made beautiful by love’s endearing grace!<br > + Love is enough.</p> +<p class="poetry">Love is enough. Why should we strive for +power?<br > + It brings men only envy and distrust.<br > +The poor world’s homage pleases but an hour,<br > + And earthly honours vanish in the dust.<br > +The grandest lives are ofttimes desolate;<br > +Let me be loved, and let who will be great.<br > + Love is enough.</p> +<p class="poetry">Love is enough. Why should we ask for +more?<br > + What greater gift have gods vouchsafed to men?<br > +What better boon of all their precious store<br > + Than our fond hearts that love and love again?<br > +Old love may die; new love is just as sweet;<br > +And life is fair and all the world complete:<br > + Love is enough!</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem87"></a>LIFE IS A PRIVILEGE</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Life is a privilege. Its youthful days<br +> +Shine with the radiance of continuous Mays.<br > +To live, to breathe, to wonder and desire,<br > +To feed with dreams the heart’s perpetual fire,<br > +To thrill with virtuous passions, and to glow<br > +With great ambitions—in one hour to know<br > +The depths and heights of feeling—God! in truth,<br > +How beautiful, how beautiful is youth!</p> +<p class="poetry">Life is a privilege. Like some rare +rose<br > +The mysteries of the human mind unclose.<br > +What marvels lie in earth, and air, and sea!<br > +What stores of knowledge wait our opening key!<br > +What sunny roads of happiness lead out<br > +Beyond the realms of indolence and doubt!<br > +And what large pleasures smile upon and bless<br > +The busy avenues of usefulness!</p> +<p class="poetry">Life is a privilege. Though noontide +fades<br > +And shadows fall along the winding glades,<br > +Though joy-blooms wither in the autumn air,<br > +Yet the sweet scent of sympathy is there.<br > +Pale sorrow leads us closer to our kind,<br > +And in the serious hours of life we find<br > +Depths in the souls of men which lend new worth<br > +And majesty to this brief span of earth.</p> +<p class="poetry">Life is a privilege. If some sad fate<br +> +Sends us alone to seek the exit gate,<br > +If men forsake us and as shadows fall,<br > +Still does the supreme privilege of all<br > +Come in that reaching upward of the soul<br > +To find the welcoming Presence at the goal,<br > +And in the Knowledge that our feet have trod<br > +Paths that led from, and must wind back, to God.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem88"></a>INSIGHT</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Sirs, when you pity us, I say<br > +You waste your pity. Let it stay,<br > +Well corked and stored upon your shelves,<br > +Until you need it for yourselves.</p> +<p class="poetry">We do appreciate God’s thought<br > +In forming you, before He brought<br > +Us into life. His art was crude,<br > +But oh! so virile in its rude,</p> +<p class="poetry">Large, elemental strength; and then<br > +He learned His trade in making men,<br > +Learned how to mix and mould the clay<br > +And fashion in a finer way.</p> +<p class="poetry">How fine that skilful way can be<br > +You need but lift your eyes to see;<br > +And we are glad God placed you there<br > +To lift your eyes and find us fair.</p> +<p class="poetry">Apprentice labour though you were,<br > +He made you great enough to stir<br > +The best and deepest depths of us,<br > +And we are glad He made you thus.</p> +<p class="poetry">Aye! we are glad of many things;<br > +God strung our hearts with such fine strings<br > +The least breath moves them, and we hear<br > +Music where silence greets your ear.</p> +<p class="poetry">We suffer so? But women’s souls,<br +> +Like violet-powder dropped on coals,<br > +Give forth their best in anguish. Oh<br > +The subtle secrets that we know</p> +<p class="poetry">Of joy in sorrow, strange delights<br > +Of ecstasy in pain-filled nights,<br > +And mysteries of gain in loss<br > +Known but to Christ upon the cross!</p> +<p class="poetry">Our tears are pitiful to you?<br > +Look how the heaven-reflecting dew<br > +Dissolves its life in tears. The sand<br > +Meanwhile lies hard upon the strand.</p> +<p class="poetry">How could your pity find a place<br > +For us, the mothers of the race?<br > +Men may be fathers unaware,<br > +So poor the title is you wear.</p> +<p class="poetry">But mothers—who that crown adorns<br > +Knows all its mingled blooms and thorns,<br > +And she whose feet that pain hath trod<br > +Hath walked upon the heights with God.</p> +<p class="poetry">No, offer us not pity’s cup.<br > +There is no looking down or up<br > +Between us; eye looks straight in eye:<br > +Born equals, so we live and die.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem89"></a>A WOMAN’S ANSWER</h2> + +<p class="poetry">You call me an angel of love and of light,<br +> + A being of goodness and heavenly fire,<br > +Sent out from God’s kingdom to guide you aright,<br > + In paths where your spirit may mount and aspire,<br +> +You say that I glow like a star on its course,<br > +Like a ray from the altar, a spark from the source.</p> +<p class="poetry">Now list to my answer—let all the world +hear it,<br > + I speak unafraid what I know to be true—<br > +A pure, faithful love is the creative spirit<br > + Which make women angels! I live but in you.<br +> +We are bound soul to soul by life’s holiest laws;<br > +If I am an angel—why, you are the cause.</p> +<p class="poetry">As my ship skims the sea, I look up from the deck.<br +> + Fair, firm at the wheel shines Love’s +beautiful form.<br > +And shall I curse the bark that last night went to wreck<br > + By the pilot abandoned to darkness and storm?<br > +My craft is no stauncher, she too had been lost<br > +Had the wheelman deserted, or slept at his post.</p> +<p class="poetry">I laid down the wealth of my soul at your +feet<br > + (Some woman does this for some man every day).<br > +No desperate creature who walks in the street<br > + Has a wickeder heart than I might have, I say,<br > +Had you wantonly misused the treasures you won—<br > +As so many men with heart-riches have done.</p> +<p class="poetry">This fire from God’s altar, this holy +love-flame,<br > + That burns like sweet incense forever for you,<br > +Might now be a wild conflagration of shame,<br > + Had you tortured my heart, or been base or +untrue.<br > +For angels and devils are cast in one mould,<br > +Till love guides them upward or downward, I hold.</p> +<p class="poetry">I tell you the women who make fervent wives<br +> + And sweet tender mothers, had Fate been less +fair,<br > +Are the women who might have abandoned their lives<br > + To the madness that springs from and ends in +despair.<br > +As the fire on the hearth which sheds brightness around,<br > +Neglected, may level the walls to the ground.</p> +<p class="poetry">The world makes grave errors in judging these +things.<br > + Great good and great evil are born in one breast:<br +> +Love horns us and hoofs us, or gives us our wings,<br > + And the best could be worst, as the worst could be +best.<br > +You must thank your own worth for what I grew to be,<br > +For the demon lurked under the angel in me.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a id="poem90"></a>THE WORLD’S NEED</h2> + +<p class="poetry">So many gods, so many creeds,<br > + So many paths that wind and wind,<br > + While just the art of being kind,<br > +Is all the sad world needs.</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> + +<div class="gapmediumline"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>Printed by Hanell</i>, <i>Watson +& Viney</i>, <i>Ld.</i>, <i>London and Aylesbury</i>.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 6667 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + diff --git a/6667-h/6667-h.htm~ b/6667-h/6667-h.htm~ new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d20bb48 --- /dev/null +++ b/6667-h/6667-h.htm~ @@ -0,0 +1,4092 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Poems of Power, by Ella Wheeler Wilcox</title> +<link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> +<style type="text/css"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify; } + + P { margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + P.poetry {margin-left: 3%; } + .GutSmall { font-size: 0.7em; } + H1, H2 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + } + H3, H4, H5 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + + div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + div.gapspace { height: 0.8em; } + div.gapmediumline { height: 0.3em; width: 40%; margin-left:30%; + border-top: 1px solid; } + +div.fig { display:block; + margin:0 auto; + text-align:center; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em;} + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + + </style> +</head> +<body> + +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold;'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Poems of Power, by Ella Wheeler Wilcox</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world 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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Poems of Power</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Ella Wheeler Wilcox</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Release Date: January 10, 2003 [eBook #6667]<br /> +[Most recently updated: May 18, 2021]</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: David Price</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em;margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS OF POWER ***</div> + +<div class="fig" style="width:55%;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="[Illustration]" /> +</div> + +<h1>POEMS OF POWER</h1> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> + +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">BY</span><br /> +ELLA WHEELER WILCOX</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/tpb.jpg"> +<img alt="Decorative graphic" +title="Decorative graphic" +src="images/tps.jpg" /> +</a></p> + +<p style="text-align: center">GAY AND HANCOCK, LTD.<br /> +21 BEDFORD ROW<br /> +LONDON</p> +<p style="text-align: center">[<i>All rights reserved</i>]</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> + +<p style="text-align: center"><i>Published</i> 1903<br /> +<i>Reprinted</i> 1904, 1905, 1906, 1907, 1908<br /> +1909 (<i>three times</i>), 1910 (<i>four times</i>), 1911,<br /> +1912 (<i>twice</i>), 1913, 1914, 1916, 1917, 1918</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>N.B.</i>—<i>The only +volumes of my poems issued</i><br /> +<i>with my approval in the British Empire are</i><br /> +<i>published by</i> <span class="smcap">Messrs. Gay & +Hancock</span>.</p> + +<p style="text-align: right">ELLA WHEELER WILCOX.</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>NOTE</h2> + +<p><i>The final word in the title of this volume refers to the +</i><span class="smcap"><i>Divine Power</i></span><i> in every +human being</i>, <i>the recognition of which is the secret to all +success and happiness</i>. <i>It is this idea which many of +the verses endeavour to illustrate</i>.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>E. W. W.</i></p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem01">The Queen’s last ride</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem02">The Meeting of the Centuries</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem03">Death has Crowned him a Martyr</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem04">Grief</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem05">Illusion</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem06">Assertion</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem07">I Am</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem08">Wishing</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem09">We two</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem10">The Poet’s Theme</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem11">Song of the Spirit</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem12">Womanhood</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem13">Morning Prayer</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem14">The Voices of the People</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem15">The World grows Better</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem16">A Man’s Ideal</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem17">The Fire Brigade</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem18">The Tides</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem19">When the Regiment came back</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem20">Woman to Man</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem21">The Traveller</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem22">The Earth</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem23">Now</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem24">You and To-day</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem25">The Reason</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem26">Mission</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem27">Repetition</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem28">Begin the Day</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem29">Words</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem30">Fate and I</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem31">Attainment</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem32">A Plea to Peace</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem33">Presumption</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem34">High Noon</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem35">Thought-magnets</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem36">Smiles</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem37">The Undiscovered Country</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem38">The Universal Route</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem39">Unanswered Prayers</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem40">Thanksgiving</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem41">Contrasts</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem42">Thy Ship</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem43">Life</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem44">A Marine Etching</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem45">“Love Thyself Last”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem46">Christmas Fancies</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem47">The River</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem48">Sorry</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem49">Ambition’s trail</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem50">Uncontrolled</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem51">Will</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem52">To an Astrologer</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem53">The Tendril’s Fate</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem54">The Times</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem55">The Question</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem56">Sorrow’s Uses</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem57">If</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem58">Which are you?</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem59">The Creed to be</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem60">Inspiration</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem61">The Wish</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem62">Three Friends</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem63">You never can tell</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem64">Here and now</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem65">Unconquered</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem66">All that love asks</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem67">“Does it pay?”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem68">Sestina</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem69">The Optimist</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem70">The Pessimist</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem71">An Inspiration</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem72">Life’s Harmonies</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem73">Preparation</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem74">Gethsemane</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem75">God’s Measure</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem76">Noblesse Oblige</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem77">Through Tears</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem78">What we Need</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem79">Plea to Science</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem80">Respite</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem81">Song</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem82">My Ships</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem83">Her Love</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem84">If</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem85">Love’s burial</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem86">“Love is enough”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem87">Life is a Privilege</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem88">Insight</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem89">A Woman’s Answer</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#poem90">The World’s Need</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem01"></a>THE QUEEN’S LAST RIDE</h2> + +<p style="text-align: center">(Written on the day of Queen +Victoria’s funeral)</p> +<p class="poetry">The Queen is taking a drive to-day,<br /> +They have hung with purple the carriage-way,<br /> +They have dressed with purple the royal track<br /> +Where the Queen goes forth and never comes back.</p> +<p class="poetry">Let no man labour as she goes by<br /> +On her last appearance to mortal eye:<br /> +With heads uncovered let all men wait<br /> +For the Queen to pass, in her regal state.</p> +<p class="poetry">Army and Navy shall lead the way<br /> +For that wonderful coach of the Queen’s to-day.<br /> +Kings and Princes and Lords of the land<br /> +Shall ride behind her, a humble band;<br /> +And over the city and over the world<br /> +Shall the Flags of all Nations be half-mast-furled,<br /> +For the silent lady of royal birth<br /> +Who is riding away from the Courts of earth,<br /> +Riding away from the world’s unrest<br /> +To a mystical goal, on a secret quest.</p> +<p class="poetry">Though in royal splendour she drives through +town,<br /> +Her robes are simple, she wears no crown:<br /> +And yet she wears one, for, widowed no more,<br /> +She is crowned with the love that has gone before,<br /> +And crowned with the love she has left behind<br /> +In the hidden depths of each mourner’s mind.</p> +<p class="poetry">Bow low your heads—lift your hearts on +high—<br /> +The Queen in silence is driving by!</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem02"></a>THE MEETING OF THE CENTURIES</h2> + +<p class="poetry">A curious vision on mine eyes unfurled<br /> + In the deep night. I saw, or seemed to see,<br +/> + Two Centuries meet, and sit down vis-à-vis<br +/> +Across the great round table of the world:<br /> +One with suggested sorrows in his mien,<br /> + And on his brow the furrowed lines of thought;<br /> + And one whose glad expectant presence brought<br /> +A glow and radiance from the realms unseen.</p> +<p class="poetry">Hand clasped with hand, in silence for a +space<br /> + The Centuries sat; the sad old eyes of one<br /> + (As grave paternal eyes regard a son)<br /> +Gazing upon that other eager face.<br /> +And then a voice, as cadenceless and gray<br /> + As the sea’s monody in winter time,<br /> + Mingled with tones melodious, as the chime<br /> +Of bird choirs, singing in the dawns of May.</p> +<p style="text-align: center" class="poetry"> +<span class="smcap">The Old Century Speaks</span></p> +<p class="poetry">By you, Hope stands. With me, Experience +walks.<br /> +Like a fair jewel in a faded box,<br /> +In my tear-rusted heart, sweet Pity lies.<br /> +For all the dreams that look forth from your eyes,<br /> +And those bright-hued ambitions, which I know<br /> +Must fall like leaves and perish, in Time’s snow,<br /> +(Even as my soul’s garden stands bereft,)<br /> +I give you pity! ’tis the one gift left.</p> +<p style="text-align: center" class="poetry"><span +class="smcap">The New Century</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Nay, nay, good friend! not pity, but +Godspeed,<br /> +Here in the morning of my life I need.<br /> +Counsel, and not condolence; smiles, not tears,<br /> +To guide me through the channels of the years.<br /> +Oh, I am blinded by the blaze of light<br /> +That shines upon me from the Infinite.<br /> +Blurred is my vision by the close approach<br /> +To unseen shores, whereon the times encroach.</p> +<p style="text-align: center" class="poetry"><span +class="smcap">The Old Century</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Illusion, all illusion. List and hear<br +/> +The Godless cannons, booming far and near.<br /> +Flaunting the flag of Unbelief, with Greed<br /> +For pilot, lo! the pirate age in speed<br /> +Bears on to ruin. War’s most hideous crimes<br /> +Besmirch the record of these modern times.<br /> +Degenerate is the world I leave to you,—<br /> +My happiest speech to earth will be—adieu.</p> +<p style="text-align: center" class="poetry"><span +class="smcap">The New Century</span></p> +<p class="poetry">You speak as one too weary to be just.<br /> +I hear the guns—I see the greed and lust.<br /> +The death throes of a giant evil fill<br /> +The air with riot and confusion. Ill<br /> +Ofttimes makes fallow ground for Good; and Wrong<br /> +Builds Right’s foundation, when it grows too strong.<br /> +Pregnant with promise is the hour, and grand<br /> +The trust you leave in my all-willing hand.</p> +<p style="text-align: center" class="poetry"><span +class="smcap">The Old Century</span></p> +<p class="poetry">As one who throws a flickering taper’s +ray<br /> +To light departing feet, my shadowed way<br /> +You brighten with your faith. Faith makes the man<br /> +Alas, that my poor foolish age outran<br /> +Its early trust in God! The death of art<br /> +And progress follows, when the world’s hard heart<br /> +Casts out religion. ’Tis the human brain<br /> +Men worship now, and heaven, to them, means—gain.</p> +<p style="text-align: center" class="poetry"> +<span class="smcap">The New Century</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Faith is not dead, tho’ priest and creed +may pass,<br /> +For thought has leavened the whole unthinking mass,<br /> +And man looks now to find the God within.<br /> +We shall talk more of love, and less of sin,<br /> +In this new era. We are drawing near<br /> +Unatlassed boundaries of a larger sphere.<br /> +With awe, I wait, till Science leads us on,<br /> +Into the full effulgence of its dawn.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem03"></a>DEATH HAS CROWNED HIM A MARTYR</h2> + +<p>(Written on the day of President McKinley’s death)</p> +<p class="poetry">In the midst of sunny waters, lo! the mighty +Ship of State<br /> +Staggers, bruised and torn and wounded by a derelict of fate,<br +/> +One that drifted from its moorings in the anchorage of hate.</p> +<p class="poetry">On the deck our noble Pilot, in the glory of +his prime,<br /> +Lies in woe-impelling silence, dead before his hour or time,<br +/> +Victim of a mind self-centred in a Godless fool of crime.</p> +<p class="poetry">One of earth’s dissension-breeders, one +of Hate’s unreasoning tools,<br /> +In the annals of the ages, when the world’s hot anger +cools,<br /> +He who sought for Crime’s distinction shall be known as +Chief of Fools.</p> +<p class="poetry">In the annals of the ages, he who had no thought of +fame<br /> +(Keeping on the path of duty, caring not for praise or blame),<br +/> +Close beside the deathless Lincoln, writ in light, will shine his +name.</p> +<p class="poetry">Youth proclaimed him as a hero; time, a +statesman; love, a man;<br /> +Death has crowned him as a martyr,—so from goal to goal he +ran,<br /> +Knowing all the sum of glory that a human life may span.</p> +<p class="poetry">He was chosen by the people; not an accident of +birth<br /> +Made him ruler of a nation, but his own intrinsic worth.<br /> +Fools may govern over kingdoms—not republics of the +earth.</p> +<p class="poetry">He has raised the lovers’ standard by his +loyalty and faith,<br /> +He has shown how virile manhood may keep free from +scandal’s breath.<br /> +He has gazed, with trust unshaken, in the awful eyes of +Death.</p> +<p class="poetry">In the mighty march of progress he has sought to do his +best.<br /> +Let his enemies be silent, as we lay him down to rest,<br /> +And may God assuage the anguish of one suffering woman’s +breast.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem04"></a>GRIEF</h2> + +<p class="poetry">As the funeral train with its honoured dead<br +/> + On its mournful way went sweeping,<br /> +While a sorrowful nation bowed its head<br /> + And the whole world joined in weeping,<br /> +I thought, as I looked on the solemn sight,<br /> + Of the one fond heart despairing,<br /> +And I said to myself, as in truth I might,<br /> + “How sad must be this +<i>sharing</i>.”</p> +<p class="poetry">To share the living with even Fame,<br /> + For a heart that is only human,<br /> +Is hard, when Glory asserts her claim<br /> + Like a bold, insistent woman;<br /> +Yet a great, grand passion can put aside<br /> + Or stay each selfish emotion,<br /> +And watch, with a pleasure that springs from pride,<br /> + Its rival—the world’s devotion.</p> +<p class="poetry">But Death should render to love its own,<br /> + And my heart bowed down and sorrowed<br /> +For the stricken woman who wept alone<br /> + While even her <i>dead</i> was borrowed;<br /> +Borrowed from her, the bride—the wife—<br /> + For the world’s last martial honour,<br /> +As she sat in the gloom of her darkened life,<br /> + With her widow’s grief fresh upon her.</p> +<p class="poetry">He had shed the glory of Love and Fame<br /> + In a golden halo about her;<br /> +She had shared his triumphs and worn his name:<br /> + But, alas! he had died without her.<br /> +He had wandered in many a distant realm,<br /> + And never had left her behind him,<br /> +But now, with a spectral shape at the helm,<br /> + He had sailed where she could not find him.</p> +<p class="poetry">It was only a thought, that came that day<br /> + In the midst of the muffled drumming<br /> +And funeral music and sad display,<br /> + That I knew was right and becoming<br /> +Only a thought as the mourning train<br /> + Moved, column after column,<br /> +Bearing the dead to the burial plain<br /> + With a reverence grand as solemn.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem05"></a>ILLUSION</h2> + +<p class="poetry">God and I in space alone<br /> + And nobody else in view.<br /> +“And where are the people, O Lord,” I said,<br /> +“The earth below, and the sky o’er head,<br /> + And the dead whom once I knew?”</p> +<p class="poetry">“That was a dream,” God smiled and +said—<br /> + “A dream that seemed to be true.<br /> +There were no people, living or dead,<br /> +There was no earth, and no sky o’erhead;<br /> + There was only Myself—in you.”</p> +<p class="poetry">“Why do I feel no fear,” I +asked,<br /> + “Meeting You here this way?<br /> +For I have sinned I know full well?<br /> +And is there heaven, and is there hell,<br /> + And is this the judgment day?”</p> +<p class="poetry">“Say, those were but dreams,” the Great God +said,<br /> + “Dreams, that have ceased to be.<br /> +There are no such things as fear or sin,<br /> +There is no you—you never have been—<br /> + There is nothing at all but <i>Me</i>.”</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem06"></a>ASSERTION</h2> + +<p class="poetry">I am serenity. Though passions beat<br /> + Like mighty billows on my helpless heart,<br /> +I know beyond them lies the perfect sweet<br /> + Serenity, which patience can impart.<br /> +And when wild tempests in my bosom rage,<br /> +“Peace, peace,” I cry, “it is my +heritage.”</p> +<p class="poetry">I am good health. Though fevers rack my +brain<br /> + And rude disorders mutilate my strength,<br /> +A perfect restoration after pain,<br /> + I know shall be my recompense at length.<br /> +And so through grievous day and sleepless night,<br /> +“Health, health,” I cry, “it is my own by +right.”</p> +<p class="poetry">I am success. Though hungry, cold, +ill-clad,<br /> + I wander for awhile, I smile and say,<br /> +“It +is but for a time—I shall be glad<br /> + To-morrow, for good fortune comes my way.<br /> +God is my father, He has wealth untold,<br /> +His wealth is mine, health, happiness, and gold.”</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem07"></a>I AM</h2> + +<p class="poetry">I know not whence I came,<br /> + I know not whither I go;<br /> +But the fact stands clear that I am here<br /> + In this world of pleasure and woe.<br /> +And out of the mist and murk<br /> + Another truth shines plain—<br /> +It is my power each day and hour<br /> + To add to its joy or its pain.</p> +<p class="poetry">I know that the earth exists,<br /> + It is none of my business why;<br /> +I cannot find out what it’s all about,<br /> + I would but waste time to try.<br /> +My life is a brief, brief thing,<br /> + I am here for a little space,<br /> +And while I stay I would like, if I may,<br /> + To brighten and better the place.</p> +<p class="poetry">The trouble, I think, with us all<br /> + Is the lack of a high conceit.<br /> +If each man thought he was sent to this spot<br /> + To make it a bit more sweet,<br /> +How soon we could gladden the world,<br /> + How easily right all wrong,<br /> +If nobody shirked, and each one worked<br /> + To help his fellows along!</p> +<p class="poetry">Cease wondering why you came—<br /> + Stop looking for faults and flaws;<br /> +Rise up to-day in your pride and say,<br /> + “I am part of the First Great Cause!<br /> +However full the world,<br /> + There is room for an earnest man.<br /> +It had need of me, or I would not be—<br /> + I am here to strengthen the plan.”</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem08"></a>WISHING</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Do you wish the world were better?<br /> + Let me tell you what to do:<br /> +Set a watch upon your actions,<br /> + Keep them always straight and true;<br /> +Rid your mind of selfish motives;<br /> + Let your thoughts be clean and high.<br /> +You can make a little Eden<br /> + Of the sphere you occupy.</p> +<p class="poetry">Do you wish the world were wiser?<br /> + Well, suppose you make a start,<br /> +By accumulating wisdom<br /> + In the scrapbook of your heart:<br /> +Do not waste one page on folly;<br /> + Live to learn, and learn to live.<br /> +If you want to give men knowledge<br /> + You must get it, ere you give.</p> +<p class="poetry">Do you wish the world were happy?<br /> + Then remember day by day<br /> +Just to scatter seeds of kindness<br /> + As you pass along the way;<br /> +For the pleasures of the many<br /> + May be ofttimes traced to one,<br /> +As the hand that plants an acorn<br /> + Shelters armies from the sun.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem09"></a>WE TWO</h2> + +<p class="poetry"> We two make home of any place +we go;<br /> +We two find joy in any kind of weather;<br /> + Or if the earth is clothed in bloom or snow,<br /> + If summer days invite, or bleak winds blow,<br /> +What matters it if we two are together?<br /> +We two, we two, we make our world, our weather.</p> +<p class="poetry"> We two make banquets of the +plainest fare;<br /> +In every cup we find the thrill of pleasure;<br /> + We hide with wreaths the furrowed brow of care,<br +/> + And win to smiles the set lips of despair.<br /> +For us life always moves with lilting measure;<br /> +We two, we two, we make our world, our pleasure.</p> +<p class="poetry"> We two find youth renewed +with every dawn;<br /> +Each day holds something of an unknown glory.<br /> + We waste no thought on grief or pleasure gone;<br /> + Tricked out like hope, time leads us on and on,<br +/> +And thrums upon his harp new song or story.<br /> +We two, we two, we find the paths of glory.</p> +<p class="poetry"> We two make heaven here on +this little earth;<br /> +We do not need to wait for realms eternal.<br /> + We know the use of tears, know sorrow’s +worth,<br /> + And pain for us is always love’s rebirth.<br +/> +Our paths lead closely by the paths supernal;<br /> +We two, we two, we live in love eternal.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem10"></a>THE POET’S THEME</h2> + +<blockquote><p>What is the explanation of the strange silence of +American poets concerning American triumphs on sea and land?</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>Literary Digest</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p class="poetry">Why should the poet of these pregnant times<br +/> +Be asked to sing of war’s unholy crimes?</p> +<p class="poetry">To laud and eulogize the trade which thrives<br +/> +On horrid holocausts of human lives?</p> +<p class="poetry">Man was a fighting beast when earth was +young,<br /> +And war the only theme when Homer sung.</p> +<p class="poetry">’Twixt might and might the equal contest +lay,<br /> +Not so the battles of our modern day.</p> +<p class="poetry">Too often now the conquering hero struts<br /> +A Gulliver among the Liliputs.</p> +<p class="poetry">Success no longer rests on skill or fate,<br /> +But on the movements of a syndicate.</p> +<p class="poetry">Of old men fought and deemed it right and +just.<br /> +To-day the warrior fights because he must,</p> +<p class="poetry">And in his secret soul feels shame because<br +/> +He desecrates the higher manhood’s laws</p> +<p class="poetry">Oh! there are worthier themes for poet’s +pen<br /> +In this great hour, than bloody deeds of men</p> +<p class="poetry">Or triumphs of one hero (though he be<br /> +Deserving song for his humility):</p> +<p class="poetry">The rights of many—not the worth of +one;<br /> +The coming issues—not the battle done;</p> +<p class="poetry">The awful opulence, and awful need;<br /> +The rise of brotherhood—the fall of greed,</p> +<p class="poetry">The soul of man replete with God’s own +force,<br /> +The call “to heights,” and not the cry “to +horse,”—</p> +<p class="poetry">Are there not better themes in this great +age<br /> +For pen of poet, or for voice of sage</p> +<p class="poetry">Than those old tales of killing? Song is dumb<br +/> +Only that greater song in time may come.</p> +<p class="poetry">When comes the bard, he whom the world waits +for,<br /> +He will not sing of War.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem11"></a>SONG OF THE SPIRIT</h2> + +<p class="poetry">All the aim of life is just<br /> + Getting back to God.<br /> +Spirit casting off its dust,<br /> + Getting back to God.<br /> +Every grief we have to bear<br /> +Disappointment, cross, despair<br /> +Each is but another stair<br /> + Climbing back to God.</p> +<p class="poetry">Step by step and mile by mile—<br /> + Getting back to God;<br /> +Nothing else is worth the while—<br /> + Getting back to God.<br /> +Light and shadow fill each day<br /> +Joys and sorrows pass away,<br /> +Smile at all, and smiling, say,<br /> + Getting back to God.</p> +<p class="poetry">Do not wear a mournful face<br /> + Getting back to God;<br /> +Scatter sunshine on the place<br /> + Going back to God;<br /> +Take what pleasure you can find,<br /> +But where’er your paths may wind.<br /> +Keep the purpose well in mind,—<br /> + Getting back to God.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem12"></a>WOMANHOOD</h2> + +<p class="poetry">She must be honest, both in thought and +deed,<br /> +Of generous impulse, and above all greed;<br /> +Not seeking praise, or place, or power, or pelf,<br /> +But life’s best blessings for her higher self,<br /> +Which means the best for all.<br /> + She must have faith,<br /> +To make good friends of Trouble, Pain, and Death,<br /> +And understand their message.<br /> + She should be<br /> +As redolent with tender sympathy<br /> +As is a rose with fragrance.<br /> + Cheerfulness<br /> +Should be her mantle, even though her dress<br /> +May be of Sorrow’s weaving.<br /> + On her face<br /> +A loyal nature leaves its seal of grace,<br /> +And chastity is in her atmosphere.<br /> +Not that chill chastity which seems austere<br /> +(Like untrod snow-peaks, lovely to behold<br /> +Till once attained—then barren, loveless, cold);<br /> +But the white flame that feeds upon the soul<br /> +And lights the pathway to a peaceful goal.<br /> +A sense of humour, and a touch of mirth,<br /> +To brighten up the shadowy spots of earth;<br /> +And pride that passes evil—choosing good.<br /> +All these unite in perfect womanhood.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem13"></a>MORNING PRAYER</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Let me to-day do something that shall take<br +/> + A little sadness from the world’s vast +store,<br /> +And may I be so favoured as to make<br /> + Of joy’s too scanty sum a little more<br /> +Let me not hurt, by any selfish deed<br /> + Or thoughtless word, the heart of foe or friend;<br +/> +Nor would I pass, unseeing, worthy need,<br /> + Or sin by silence when I should defend.<br /> +However meagre be my worldly wealth,<br /> + Let me give something that shall aid my +kind—<br /> +A word of courage, or a thought of health,<br /> + Dropped as I pass for troubled hearts to find.<br /> +Let me to-night look back across the span<br /> + ’Twixt dawn and dark, and to my conscience +say—<br /> +Because of some good act to beast or man—<br /> + “The world is better that I lived +to-day.”</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem14"></a>THE VOICES OF THE PEOPLE</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Oh! I hear the people calling through the day +time and the night time,<br /> +They are calling, they are crying for the coming of the right +time.<br /> +It behooves you, men and women, it behooves you to be heeding,<br +/> +For there lurks a note of menace underneath their plaintive +pleading.</p> +<p class="poetry">Let the land usurpers listen, let the +greedy-hearted ponder,<br /> +On the meaning of the murmur, rising here and swelling yonder,<br +/> +Swelling louder, waxing stronger, like a storm-fed stream that +courses<br /> +Through the valleys, down abysses, growing, gaining with new +forces.</p> +<p class="poetry">Day by day the river widens, that great river of +opinion,<br /> +And its torrent beats and plunges at the base of greed’s +dominion.<br /> +Though you dam it by oppression and fling golden bridges +o’er it,<br /> +Yet the day and hour advances when in fright you’ll flee +before it.</p> +<p class="poetry">Yes, I hear the people calling, through the +night time and the day time,<br /> +Wretched toilers in life’s autumn, weary young ones in +life’s May time—<br /> +They are crying, they are calling for their share of work and +pleasure;<br /> +You are heaping high your coffers while you give them scanty +measure,—<br /> +You have stolen God’s wide acres, just to glut your swollen +purses—<br /> +Oh! restore them to His children ere their pleading turns to +curses.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem15"></a>THE WORLD GROWS BETTER</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Oh! the earth is full of sinning<br /> + And of trouble and of woe,<br /> +But the devil makes an inning<br /> + Every time we say it’s so.<br /> +And the way to set him scowling,<br /> + And to put him back a pace,<br /> +Is to stop this stupid growling,<br /> + And to look things in the face.</p> +<p class="poetry">If you glance at history’s pages,<br /> + In all lands and eras known,<br /> +You will find the buried ages<br /> + Far more wicked than our own.<br /> +As you scan each word and letter.<br /> + You will realise it more,<br /> +That the world to-day is better<br /> + Than it ever was before.</p> +<p class="poetry">There is much that needs amending<br /> + In the present time, no doubt;<br /> +There is right that needs amending,<br /> + There is wrong needs crushing out.<br /> +And we hear the groans and curses<br /> + Of the poor who starve and die,<br /> +While the men with swollen purses<br /> + In the place of hearts go by.</p> +<p class="poetry">But in spite of all the trouble<br /> + That obscures the sun to-day,<br /> +Just remember it was double<br /> + In the ages passed away.<br /> +And those wrongs shall all be righted,<br /> + Good shall dominate the land,<br /> +For the darkness now is lighted<br /> + By the torch in Science’s hand.</p> +<p class="poetry">Forth from little motes in Chaos,<br /> + We have come to what we are;<br /> +And no evil force can stay us—<br /> + We shall mount from star to star,<br /> +We shall break each bond and fetter<br /> + That has bound us heretofore;<br /> +And the earth is surely better<br /> + Than it ever was before.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem16"></a>A MAN’S IDEAL</h2> + +<p class="poetry">A lovely little keeper of the home,<br /> +Absorbed in menu books, yet erudite<br /> +When I need counsel; quick at repartee<br /> +And slow to anger. Modest as a flower,<br /> +Yet scintillant and radiant as a star.<br /> +Unmercenary in her mould of mind,<br /> +While opulent and dainty in her tastes.<br /> +A nature generous and free, albeit<br /> +The incarnation of economy.<br /> +She must be chaste as proud Diana was,<br /> +Yet warm as Venus. To all others cold<br /> +As some white glacier glittering in the sun;<br /> +To me as ardent as the sensuous rose<br /> +That yields its sweetness to the burrowing bee<br /> +All ignorant of evil in the world,<br /> +And innocent as any cloistered nun,<br /> +Yet wise as Phryne in the arts of love<br /> +When I come thirsting to her nectared lips.<br /> +Good as the best, and tempting as the worst,<br /> +A saint, a siren, and a paradox.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem17"></a>THE FIRE BRIGADE</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Hark! high o’er the rattle and clamour +and clatter<br /> + Of traffic-filled streets, do you hear that loud +noise?<br /> +And pushing and rushing to see what’s the matter,<br /> + Like herds of wild cattle, go pell-mell the +boys.</p> +<p class="poetry">There’s a fire in the city! the engines +are coming!<br /> + The bold bells are clanging, “Make way in the +street!”<br /> +The wheels of the hose-cart are spinning and humming<br /> + In time to the music of galloping feet.</p> +<p class="poetry">Make way there! make way there! the horses are +flying,<br /> + The sparks from their swift hoofs shoot higher and +higher,<br /> +The crowds are increasing—the gamins are crying:<br /> + “Hooray, boys!” “Hooray, +boys!” “Come on to the fire!”</p> +<p class="poetry">With clanging and banging and clatter and +rattle<br /> + The long ladders follow the engine and hose.<br /> +The men are all ready to dash into battle;<br /> + But will they come out again? God only +knows.</p> +<p class="poetry">At windows and doorways crowd questioning +faces;<br /> + There’s something about it that quickens +one’s breath.<br /> +How proudly the brave fellows sit in their places—<br /> + And speed to the conflict that may be their +death!</p> +<p class="poetry">Still faster and faster and faster and +faster<br /> + The grand horses thunder and leap on their way<br /> +The red foe is yonder, and may prove the master;<br /> + Turn out there, bold traffic—turn out there, I +say!</p> +<p class="poetry">For once the loud truckman knows oaths will not +matter<br /> + And reins in his horses and yields to his fate.<br +/> +The engines are coming! let pleasure-crowds scatter,<br /> + Let street car and truckman and mail waggon +wait.</p> +<p class="poetry">They speed like a comet—they pass in a +minute;<br /> + The boys follow on like a tail to a kite;<br /> +The commonplace street has but traffic now in it—<br /> + The great fire engines have swept out of sight.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem18"></a>THE TIDES</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Be careful what rubbish you toss in the +tide.<br /> + On outgoing billows it drifts from your sight,<br /> +But back on the incoming waves it may ride<br /> + And land at your threshold again before night.<br /> +Be careful what rubbish you toss in the tide.</p> +<p class="poetry">Be careful what follies you toss in +life’s sea.<br /> + On bright dancing billows they drift far away,<br /> +But back on the Nemesis tides they may be<br /> + Thrown down at your threshold an unwelcome day<br /> +Be careful what follies you toss in youth’s sea.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem19"></a>WHEN THE REGIMENT CAME BACK</h2> + +<p class="poetry">All the uniforms were blue, all the swords were +bright and new,<br /> + When the regiment went marching down the street,<br +/> +All the men were hale and strong as they proudly moved along,<br +/> + Through the cheers that drowned the music of their +feet.<br /> +Oh the music of the feet keeping time to drums that beat,<br /> + Oh the splendour and the glitter of the sight,<br /> +As with swords and rifles new and in uniforms of blue<br /> + The regiment went marching to the fight!</p> +<p class="poetry">When the regiment came back all the guns and +swords were black<br /> + And the uniforms had faded out to gray,<br /> +And the faces of the men who marched through that street again<br /> + Seemed like faces of the dead who lose their way.<br +/> +For the dead who lose their way cannot look more wan and gray.<br +/> + Oh the sorrow and the pity of the sight,<br /> +Oh the weary lagging feet out of step with drums that beat,<br /> + As the regiment comes marching from the fight.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem20"></a>WOMAN TO MAN</h2> + +<blockquote><p>Woman is man’s enemy, rival, and +competitor.—<span class="smcap">John j. Ingalls</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p class="poetry">You do but jest, sir, and you jest not well,<br +/> +How could the hand be enemy of the arm,<br /> +Or seed and sod be rivals! How could light<br /> +Feel jealousy of heat, plant of the leaf,<br /> +Or competition dwell ’twixt lip and smile?<br /> +Are we not part and parcel of yourselves?<br /> +Like strands in one great braid we entertwine<br /> +And make the perfect whole. You could not be,<br /> +Unless we gave you birth; we are the soil<br /> +From which you sprang, yet sterile were that soil<br /> +Save as you planted. (Though in the Book we read<br /> +One woman bore a child with no man’s aid,<br /> +We find no record of a man-child born<br /> +Without the aid of woman! Fatherhood<br /> +Is but a small achievement at the best,<br /> +While motherhood comprises heaven and hell.)<br /> +This ever-growing argument of sex<br /> +Is most unseemly, and devoid of sense.<br /> +Why waste more time in controversy, when<br /> +There is not time enough for all of love,<br /> +Our rightful occupation in this life?<br /> +Why prate of our defects, of where we fail,<br /> +When just the story of our worth would need<br /> +Eternity for telling, and our best<br /> +Development comes ever through your praise,<br /> +As through our praise you reach your highest self?<br /> +Oh! had you not been miser of your praise<br /> +And let our virtues be their own reward,<br /> +The old-established order of the world<br /> +Would never have been changed. Small blame is ours<br /> +For this unsexing of ourselves, and worse.<br /> +Effeminising of the male. We were<br /> +Content, sir, till you starved us, heart and brain.<br /> +All we have done, or wise, or otherwise,<br /> +Traced to the root, was done for love of you.<br /> +Let us taboo all vain comparisons,<br /> +And go forth as God meant us, hand in hand,<br /> +Companions, mates, and comrades evermore;<br /> +Two parts of one divinely ordained whole.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem21"></a>THE TRAVELLER</h2> + +<p>Reply to Rudyard Kipling’s “He travels the fastest +who travels alone.”</p> +<p class="poetry">Who travels alone with his eyes on the +heights,<br /> +Though he laughs in the day time oft weeps in the nights;</p> +<p class="poetry">For courage goes down at the set of the sun,<br +/> +When the toil of the journey is all borne by one.</p> +<p class="poetry">He speeds but to grief though full gaily he +ride<br /> +Who travels alone without love at his side.</p> +<p class="poetry">Who travels alone without lover or friend<br /> +But hurries from nothing, to naught at the end.</p> +<p class="poetry">Though great be his winnings and high be his +goal,<br /> +He is bankrupt in wisdom and beggared in soul.</p> +<p class="poetry">Life’s one gift of value to him is denied<br /> +Who travels alone without love at his side.</p> +<p class="poetry">It is easy enough in this world to make +haste<br /> +If one live for that purpose—but think of the waste;</p> +<p class="poetry">For life is a poem to leisurely read,<br /> +And the joy of the journey lies not in its speed.</p> +<p class="poetry">Oh! vain his achievement and petty his pride<br +/> +Who travels alone without love at his side.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem22"></a>THE EARTH</h2> + +<p class="poetry">The earth is yours and mine,<br /> + Our God’s bequest.<br /> +That testament divine<br /> + Who dare contest?</p> +<p class="poetry">Usurpers of the earth,<br /> + We claim our share.<br /> +We are of royal birth.<br /> + Beware! beware!</p> +<p class="poetry">Unloose the hand of greed<br /> + From God’s fair land,<br /> +We claim but what we need—<br /> + That, we demand.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem23"></a>NOW</h2> + +<p class="poetry">I leave with God to-morrow’s where and +how,<br /> +And do concern myself but with the Now,<br /> +That little word, though half the future’s length,<br /> +Well used, holds twice its meaning and its strength.</p> +<p class="poetry">Like one blindfolded groping out his way,<br /> +I will not try to touch beyond to-day.<br /> +Since all the future is concealed from sight<br /> +I need but strive to make the next step right.</p> +<p class="poetry">That done, the next, and so on, till I find<br +/> +Perchance some day I am no longer blind,<br /> +And looking up, behold a radiant Friend<br /> +Who says, “Rest, now, for you have reached the +end.”</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem24"></a>YOU AND TO-DAY</h2> + +<p class="poetry">With every rising of the sun<br /> +Think of your life as just begun.</p> +<p class="poetry">The past has shrived and buried deep<br /> +All yesterdays—there let them sleep,</p> +<p class="poetry">Nor seek to summon back one ghost<br /> +Of that innumerable host.</p> +<p class="poetry">Concern yourself with but to-day;<br /> +Woo it and teach it to obey</p> +<p class="poetry">Your wish and will. Since time began<br +/> +To-day has been the friend of man.</p> +<p class="poetry">But in his blindness and his sorrow<br /> +He looks to yesterday and to-morrow.</p> +<p class="poetry">You and to-day! a soul sublime<br /> +And the great pregnant hour of time.</p> +<p class="poetry">With God between to bind the train,<br /> +Go forth, I say—attain—attain.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem25"></a>THE REASON</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Do you know what moves the tides<br /> + As they swing from low to high?<br /> +’Tis the love, love, love,<br /> + Of the moon within the sky.<br /> +Oh! they follow where she guides,<br /> +Do the faithful-hearted tides.</p> +<p class="poetry">Do you know what moves the earth<br /> + Out of winter into spring?<br /> +’Tis the love, love, love,<br /> + Of the sun, the mighty king.<br /> +Oh the rapture that finds birth<br /> +In the kiss of sun and earth!</p> +<p class="poetry">Do you know what makes sweet songs<br /> + Ring for me above earth’s strife?<br /> +’Tis the love, love, love,<br /> + That you bring into my life,<br /> +Oh the glory of the songs<br /> +In the heart where love belongs!</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem26"></a>MISSION</h2> + +<p class="poetry">If you are sighing for a lofty work,<br /> + If great ambitions dominate your mind,<br /> +Just watch yourself and see you do not shirk<br /> + The common little ways of being kind.</p> +<p class="poetry">If you are dreaming of a future goal,<br /> + When, crowned with glory, men shall own your +power,<br /> +Be careful that you let no struggling soul<br /> + Go by unaided in the present hour.</p> +<p class="poetry">If you are moved to pity for the earth,<br /> + And long to aid it, do not look so high,<br /> +You pass some poor, dumb creature faint with thirst—<br /> + All life is equal in the eternal eye.</p> +<p class="poetry">If you would help to make the wrong things right,<br /> + Begin at home: there lies a lifetime’s +toil.<br /> +Weed your own garden fair for all men’s sight,<br /> + Before you plan to till another’s soil.</p> +<p class="poetry">God chooses His own leaders in the world,<br /> + And from the rest He asks but willing hands.<br /> +As mighty mountains into place are hurled,<br /> + While patient tides may only shape the sands.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem27"></a>REPETITION</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Over and over and over<br /> + These truths I will weave in song—<br /> +That God’s great plan needs you and me,<br /> +That will is greater than destiny,<br /> + And that love moves the world along.</p> +<p class="poetry">However mankind may doubt it,<br /> + It shall listen and hear my creed—<br /> +That God may ever be found within,<br /> +That the worship of self is the only sin,<br /> + And the only devil is greed.</p> +<p class="poetry">Over and over and over<br /> + These truths I will say and sing,<br /> +That love is mightier far than hate,<br /> +That a man’s own thought is a man’s own fate,<br /> + And that life is a goodly thing.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem28"></a>BEGIN THE DAY</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Begin each morning with a talk to God,<br /> +And ask for your divine inheritance<br /> +Of usefulness, contentment, and success.<br /> +Resign all fear, all doubt, and all despair.<br /> +The stars doubt not, and they are undismayed,<br /> +Though whirled through space for countless centuries,<br /> +And told not why or wherefore: and the sea<br /> +With everlasting ebb and flow obeys,<br /> +And leaves the purpose with the unseen Cause.<br /> +The star sheds radiance on a million worlds,<br /> +The sea is prodigal with waves, and yet<br /> +No lustre from the star is lost, and not<br /> +One drop is missing from the ocean tides.<br /> +Oh! brother to the star and sea, know all<br /> +God’s opulence is held in trust for those<br /> +Who wait serenely and who work in faith.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem29"></a>WORDS</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Words are great forces in the realm of life:<br +/> + Be careful of their use. Who talks of hate,<br +/> +Of poverty, of sickness, but sets rife<br /> + These very elements to mar his fate.</p> +<p class="poetry">When love, health, happiness, and plenty +hear<br /> + Their names repeated over day by day,<br /> +They wing their way like answering fairies near,<br /> + Then nestle down within our homes to stay.</p> +<p class="poetry">Who talks of evil conjures into shape<br /> + The formless thing and gives it life and scope.<br +/> +This is the law: then let no word escape<br /> + That does not breathe of everlasting hope.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem30"></a>FATE AND I</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Wise men tell me thou, O Fate,<br /> +Art invincible and great.</p> +<p class="poetry">Well, I own thy prowess; still<br /> +Dare I flout thee with my will</p> +<p class="poetry">Thou canst shatter in a span<br /> +All the earthly pride of man.</p> +<p class="poetry">Outward things thou canst control;<br /> +But stand back—I rule my soul!</p> +<p class="poetry">Death? ’Tis such a little +thing—<br /> +Scarcely worth the mentioning.</p> +<p class="poetry">What has death to do with me,<br /> +Save to set my spirit free?</p> +<p class="poetry">Something in me dwells, O Fate,<br /> +That can rise and dominate</p> +<p class="poetry">Loss, and sorrow, and disaster,—<br /> +How, then, Fate, art thou my master?</p> +<p class="poetry">In the great primeval morn<br /> +My immortal will was born,</p> +<p class="poetry">Part of that stupendous Cause<br /> +Which conceived the Solar Laws,</p> +<p class="poetry">Lit the suns and filled the seas,<br /> +Royalest of pedigrees.</p> +<p class="poetry">That great Cause was Love, the Source<br /> +Who most loves has most of Force.</p> +<p class="poetry">He who harbours Hate one hour<br /> +Saps the soul of Peace and Power.</p> +<p class="poetry">He who will not hate his foe<br /> +Need not dread life’s hardest blow.</p> +<p class="poetry">In the realm of brotherhood<br /> +Wishing no man aught but good,</p> +<p class="poetry">Naught but good can come to me—<br /> +This is Love’s supreme decree.</p> +<p class="poetry">Since I bar my door to Hate,<br /> +What have I to fear, O Fate?</p> +<p class="poetry">Since I fear not—Fate I vow,<br /> +I the ruler am, not thou!</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem31"></a>ATTAINMENT</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Use all your hidden forces. Do not +miss<br /> +The purpose of this life, and do not wait<br /> +For circumstance to mould or change your fate;<br /> +In your own self lies Destiny. Let this<br /> +Vast truth cast out all fear, all prejudice,<br /> +All hesitation. Know that you are great,<br /> +Great with divinity. So dominate<br /> +Environment, and enter into bliss.<br /> +Love largely and hate nothing. Hold no aim<br /> +That does not chord with universal good.<br /> +Hear what the voices of the Silence say—<br /> +All joys are yours if you put forth your claim.<br /> +Once let the spiritual laws be understood,<br /> +Material things must answer and obey.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem32"></a>A PLEA TO PEACE</h2> + +<p class="poetry">When mighty issues loom before us, all<br /> +The petty great men of the day seem small,<br /> +Like pigmies standing in a blaze of light<br /> +Before some grim majestic mountain-height.<br /> +War, with its bloody and impartial hand,<br /> +Reveals the hidden weakness of a land,<br /> +Uncrowns the heroes trusting Peace has made<br /> +Of men whose honour is a thing of trade,<br /> +And turns the searchlight full on many a place<br /> +Where proud conventions long have masked disgrace.<br /> +O lovely Peace! as thou art fair be wise.<br /> +Demand great men, and great men shall arise<br /> +To do thy bidding. Even as warriors come,<br /> +Swift at the call of bugle and of drum,<br /> +So at the voice of Peace, imperative<br /> +As bugle’s call, shall heroes spring to live<br /> +For country and for thee. In every land,<br /> +In every age, men are what times demand.<br /> +Demand the best, O Peace, and teach thy sons<br /> +They need not rush in front of death-charged guns<br /> +With murder in their hearts to prove their worth.<br /> +The grandest heroes who have graced the earth<br /> +Were love-filled souls who did not seek the fray,<br /> +But chose the safe, hard, high, and lonely way<br /> +Of selfless labour for a suffering world.<br /> +Beneath our glorious flag again unfurled<br /> +In victory such heroes wait to be<br /> +Called into bloodless action, Peace, by thee.<br /> +Be thou insistent in thy stern demand,<br /> +And wise, great men shall rise up in the land.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem33"></a>PRESUMPTION</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Whenever I am prone to doubt or +wonder—<br /> + I check myself, and say, “That mighty One<br +/> +Who made the solar system cannot blunder—<br /> + And for the best all things are being +done.”<br /> +Who set the stars on their eternal courses<br /> + Has fashioned this strange earth by some sure +plan.<br /> +Bow low, bow low to those majestic forces,<br /> + Nor dare to doubt their wisdom, puny man.</p> +<p class="poetry">You cannot put one little star in motion,<br /> + You cannot shape one single forest leaf,<br /> +Nor fling a mountain up, nor sink an ocean,<br /> + Presumptuous pigmy, large with unbelief.<br /> +ou cannot bring one dawn of regal splendour,<br /> + Nor bid the day to shadowy twilight fall,<br /> +Nor send the pale moon forth with radiance tender—<br /> + And dare you doubt the One who has done all?</p> +<p class="poetry">“So much is wrong, there is such +pain—such sinning.”<br /> + Yet look again—behold how much is right!<br /> +And He who formed the world from its beginning<br /> + Knows how to guide it upward to the light.<br /> +Your task, O man, is not to carp and cavil<br /> + At God’s achievements, but with purpose +strong<br /> +To cling to good, and turn away from evil.<br /> + That is the way to help the world along.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem34"></a>HIGH NOON</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Time’s finger on the dial of my life<br +/> +Points to high noon! and yet the half-spent day<br /> +Leaves less than half remaining, for the dark,<br /> +Bleak shadows of the grave engulf the end.<br /> +To those who burn the candle to the stick,<br /> +The sputtering socket yields but little light.<br /> +Long life is sadder than an early death.<br /> +We cannot count on ravelled threads of age<br /> +Whereof to weave a fabric. We must use<br /> +The warp and woof the ready present yields<br /> +And toil while daylight lasts. When I bethink<br /> +How brief the past, the future, still more brief<br /> +Calls on to action, action! Not for me<br /> +Is time for retrospection or for dreams,<br /> +Not time for self-laudation or remorse.<br /> +Have I done nobly? Then I must not let<br /> +Dead yesterday unborn to-morrow shame.<br /> +Have I done wrong? Well, let the bitter taste<br /> +Of fruit that turned to ashes on my lip<br /> +Be my reminder in temptation’s hour,<br /> +And keep me silent when I would condemn.<br /> +Sometimes it takes the acid of a sin<br /> +To cleanse the clouded windows of our souls<br /> +So pity may shine through them.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Looking +back,<br /> +My faults and errors seem like stepping-stones<br /> +That led the way to knowledge of the truth<br /> +And made me value virtue; sorrows shine<br /> +In rainbow colours o’er the gulf of years,<br /> +Where lie forgotten pleasures.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Looking +forth,<br /> +Out to the western sky still bright with noon,<br /> +I feel well spurred and booted for the strife<br /> +That ends not till Nirvana is attained.</p> +<p class="poetry">Battling with fate, with men, and with +myself,<br /> +Up the steep summit of my life’s forenoon,<br /> +Three things I learned, three things of precious worth,<br /> +To guide and help me down the western slope.<br /> +I have learned how to pray, and toil, and save:<br /> +To pray for courage to receive what comes,<br /> +Knowing what comes to be divinely sent;<br /> +To toil for universal good, since thus<br /> +And only thus can good come unto me;<br /> +To save, by giving whatsoe’er I have<br /> +To those who have not—this alone is gain.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem35"></a>THOUGHT-MAGNETS</h2> + +<p class="poetry">With each strong thought, with every earnest +longing<br /> + For aught thou deemest needful to thy soul,<br /> +Invisible vast forces are set thronging<br /> + Between thee and that goal</p> +<p class="poetry">’Tis only when some hidden weakness +alters<br /> + And changes thy desire, or makes it less,<br /> +That this mysterious army ever falters<br /> + Or stops short of success.</p> +<p class="poetry">Thought is a magnet; and the longed-for +pleasure,<br /> + Or boon, or aim, or object, is the steel;<br /> +And its attainment hangs but on the measure<br /> + Of what thy soul can feel.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem36"></a>SMILES</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Smile a little, smile a little,<br /> + As you go along,<br /> +Not alone when life is pleasant,<br /> + But when things go wrong.<br /> +Care delights to see you frowning,<br /> + Loves to hear you sigh;<br /> +Turn a smiling face upon her—<br /> + Quick the dame will fly.</p> +<p class="poetry">Smile a little, smile a little,<br /> + All along the road;<br /> +Every life must have its burden,<br /> + Every heart its load.<br /> +Why sit down in gloom and darkness<br /> + With your grief to sup?<br /> +As you drink Fate’s bitter tonic,<br /> + Smile across the cup.</p> +<p class="poetry">Smile upon the troubled pilgrims<br /> + Whom you pass and meet;<br /> +Frowns are thorns, and smiles are blossoms<br /> + Oft for weary feet.<br /> +Do not make the way seem harder<br /> + By a sullen face;<br /> +Smile a little, smile a little,<br /> + Brighten up the place.</p> +<p class="poetry">Smile upon your undone labour;<br /> + Not for one who grieves<br /> +O’er his task waits wealth or glory;<br /> + He who smiles achieves.<br /> +Though you meet with loss and sorrow<br /> + In the passing years,<br /> +Smile a little, smile a little,<br /> + Even through your tears.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem37"></a>THE UNDISCOVERED COUNTRY</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Man has explored all countries and all +lands,<br /> +And made his own the secrets of each clime.<br /> +Now, ere the world has fully reached its prime,<br /> +The oval earth lies compassed with steel bands,<br /> +The seas are slaves to ships that touch all strands,<br /> + And even the haughty elements, sublime<br /> + And bold, yield him their secrets for all time,<br +/> +And speed like lackeys forth at his commands.</p> +<p class="poetry">Still, though he search from shore to distant +shore,<br /> + And no strange realms, no unlocated plains<br /> +Are left for his attainment and control,<br /> +Yet is there one more kingdom to explore.<br /> + Go, know thyself, O man! there yet remains<br /> +The undiscovered country of thy soul!</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem38"></a>THE UNIVERSAL ROUTE</h2> + +<p class="poetry">As we journey along, with a laugh and a +song,<br /> + We see, on youth’s flower-decked slope,<br /> +Like a beacon of light, shining fair on the sight,<br /> + The beautiful Station of Hope.</p> +<p class="poetry">But the wheels of old Time roll along as we +climb,<br /> + And our youth speeds away on the years;<br /> +And with hearts that are numb with life’s sorrows we +come<br /> + To the mist-covered Station of Tears.</p> +<p class="poetry">Still onward we pass, where the milestones, +alas!<br /> + Are the tombs of our dead, to the West,<br /> +Where glitters and gleams, in the dying sunbeams,<br /> + The sweet, silent Station of Rest.</p> +<p class="poetry">All rest is but change, and no grave can estrange<br /> + The soul from its Parent above;<br /> +And, scorning the rod, it soars back to its God,<br /> + To the limitless City of Love.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem39"></a>UNANSWERED PRAYERS</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Like some schoolmaster, kind in being stern,<br +/> +Who hears the children crying o’er their slates<br /> +And calling, “Help me, master!” yet helps not,<br /> +Since in his silence and refusal lies<br /> +Their self-development, so God abides<br /> +Unheeding many prayers. He is not deaf<br /> +To any cry sent up from earnest hearts;<br /> +He hears and strengthens when He must deny.<br /> +He sees us weeping over life’s hard sums;<br /> +But should He give the key and dry our tears,<br /> +What would it profit us when school were done<br /> +And not one lesson mastered?</p> +<p class="poetry"> What a +world<br /> +Were this if all our prayers were answered. Not<br /> +In famed Pandora’s box were such vast ills<br /> +As lie in human hearts. Should our desires,<br /> +Voiced one by one in prayer, ascend to God<br /> +And come back as events shaped to our wish,<br /> +What chaos would result!</p> +<p class="poetry"> In my +fierce youth<br /> +I sighed out breath enough to move a fleet,<br /> +Voicing wild prayers to heaven for fancied boons<br /> +Which were denied; and that denial bends<br /> +My knee to prayers of gratitude each day<br /> +Of my maturer years. Yet from those prayers<br /> +I rose alway regirded for the strife<br /> +And conscious of new strength. Pray on, sad heart,<br /> +That which thou pleadest for may not be given,<br /> +But in the lofty altitude where souls<br /> +Who supplicate God’s grace are lifted, there<br /> +Thou shalt find help to bear thy daily lot<br /> +Which is not elsewhere found.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem40"></a>THANKSGIVING</h2> + +<p class="poetry">We walk on starry fields of white<br /> + And do not see the daisies,<br /> +For blessings common in our sight<br /> + We rarely offer praises.<br /> +We sigh for some supreme delight<br /> + To crown our lives with splendour,<br /> +And quite ignore our daily store<br /> + Of pleasures sweet and tender.</p> +<p class="poetry">Our cares are bold and push their way<br /> + Upon our thought and feeling;<br /> +They hang about us all the day,<br /> + Our time from pleasure stealing.<br /> +So unobtrusive many a joy<br /> + We pass by and forget it,<br /> +But worry strives to own our lives,<br /> + And conquers if we let it.</p> +<p class="poetry">There’s not a day in all the year<br /> + But holds some hidden pleasure,<br /> +And, looking back, joys oft appear<br /> + To brim the past’s wide measure.<br /> +But blessings are like friends, I hold,<br /> + Who love and labour near us.<br /> +We ought to raise our notes of praise<br /> + While living hearts can hear us.</p> +<p class="poetry">Full many a blessing wears the guise<br /> + Of worry or of trouble;<br /> +Far-seeing is the soul, and wise,<br /> + Who knows the mask is double.<br /> +But he who has the faith and strength<br /> + To thank his God for sorrow<br /> +Has found a joy without alloy<br /> + To gladden every morrow.</p> +<p class="poetry">We ought to make the moments notes<br /> + Of happy, glad Thanksgiving;<br /> +The hours and days a silent phrase<br /> + Of music we are living.<br /> +And so the theme should swell and grow<br /> + As weeks and months pass o’er us,<br /> +And rise sublime at this good time,<br /> + A grand Thanksgiving chorus.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem41"></a>CONTRASTS</h2> + +<p class="poetry">I see the tall church steeples—<br /> + They reach so far, so far;<br /> +But the eyes of my heart see the world’s great mart<br /> +Where the starving people are.</p> +<p class="poetry"> I hear the church bells +ringing<br /> + Their chimes on the morning air;<br /> +But my soul’s sad ear is hurt to hear<br /> + The poor man’s cry of despair.</p> +<p class="poetry">Thicker and thicker the churches,<br /> + Nearer and nearer the sky—<br /> +But alack for their creeds while the poor man’s needs<br /> + Grow deeper as years roll by!</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem42"></a>THY SHIP</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Hadst thou a ship, in whose vast hold lay +stored<br /> +The priceless riches of all climes and lands,<br /> +Say, wouldst thou let it float upon the seas<br /> +Unpiloted, of fickle winds the sport,<br /> +And of wild waves and hidden rocks the prey?</p> +<p class="poetry">Thine is that ship; and in its depths +concealed<br /> +Lies all the wealth of this vast universe—<br /> +Yea, lies some part of God’s omnipotence,<br /> +The legacy divine of every soul.<br /> +Thy will, O man, thy will is that great ship,<br /> +And yet behold it drifting here and there—<br /> +One moment lying motionless in port,<br /> +Then on high seas by sudden impulse flung,<br /> +Then drying on the sands, and yet again<br /> +Sent forth on idle quests to no-man’s land<br /> +To carry nothing and to nothing bring;<br /> +Till, worn and fretted by the aimless strife<br /> +And buffeted by vacillating winds,<br /> +It founders on a rock, or springs a leak,<br /> +With all its unused treasures in the hold.</p> +<p class="poetry">Go save thy ship, thou sluggard; take the +wheel<br /> +And steer to knowledge, glory, and success.<br /> +Great mariners have made the pathway plain<br /> +For thee to follow; hold thou to the course<br /> +Of Concentration Channel, and all things<br /> +Shall come in answer to thy swerveless wish<br /> +As comes the needle to the magnet’s call,<br /> +Or sunlight to the prisoned blade of grass<br /> +That yearns all winter for the kiss of spring.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem43"></a>LIFE</h2> + +<p class="poetry">All in the dark we grope along,<br /> + And if we go amiss<br /> +We learn at least which path is wrong,<br /> + And there is gain in this.</p> +<p class="poetry">We do not always win the race<br /> + By only running right;<br /> +We have to tread the mountain’s base<br /> + Before we reach its height.</p> +<p class="poetry">The Christs alone no errors made;<br /> + So often had they trod<br /> +The paths that lead through light and shade,<br /> + They had become as God.</p> +<p class="poetry">As Krishna, Buddha, Christ again,<br /> + They passed along the way,<br /> +And left those mighty truths which men<br /> + But dimly grasp to-day.</p> +<p class="poetry">But he who loves himself the last<br /> + And knows the use of pain,<br /> +Though strewn with errors all his past,<br /> + He surely shall attain.</p> +<p class="poetry">Some souls there are that needs must taste<br +/> + Of wrong, ere choosing right;<br /> +We should not call those years a waste<br /> + Which led us to the light.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem44"></a>A MARINE ETCHING</h2> + +<p class="poetry">A yacht from its harbour ropes pulled free,<br +/> +And leaped like a steed o’er the race-track blue,<br /> +Then up behind her the dust of the sea,<br /> +A gray fog, drifted, and hid her from view.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem45"></a>“LOVE THYSELF LAST”</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Love thyself last. Look near, behold thy +duty<br /> + To those who walk beside thee down life’s +road.<br /> +Make glad their days by little acts of beauty<br /> + And help them bear the burden of earth’s +load.</p> +<p class="poetry">Love thyself last. Look far and find the +stranger<br /> + Who staggers ’neath his sin and his +despair;<br /> +Go, lend a hand, and lead him out of danger,<br /> + To heights where he may see the world is fair.</p> +<p class="poetry">Love thyself last. The vastnesses above +thee<br /> + Are filled with Spirit-Forces; strong and pure<br /> +And fervently these faithful friends shall love thee<br /> + Keep thou thy watch o’er others and +endure.</p> +<p class="poetry">Love thyself last, and oh! such joy shall thrill thee<br /> + As never yet to selfish souls was given;<br /> +Whate’er thy lot, a perfect peace will fill thee,<br /> + And earth shall seem the ante-room of Heaven.</p> +<p class="poetry">Love thyself last, and thou shalt grow in +spirit<br /> + To see, to hear, to know, and understand.<br /> +The message of the stars, lo, thou shalt hear it,<br /> + And all God’s joys shall be at thy +command.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem46"></a>CHRISTMAS FANCIES</h2> + +<p class="poetry">When Christmas bells are swinging above the +fields of snow,<br /> +We hear sweet voices ringing from lands of long ago,<br /> + And etched on vacant places<br /> + Are half-forgotten faces<br /> +Of friends we used to cherish, and loves we used to +know—<br /> +When Christmas bells are swinging above the fields of snow.</p> +<p class="poetry">Uprising from the ocean of the present surging +near,<br /> +We see, with strange emotion, that is not free from fear,<br /> + That continent Elysian<br /> + Long vanished from our vision,<br /> +Youth’s lovely lost Atlantis, so mourned for and so +dear,<br /> +Uprising from the ocean of the present surging near.</p> +<p class="poetry">When gloomy, gray Decembers are roused to Christmas +mirth,<br /> +The dullest life remembers there once was joy on earth,<br /> + And draws from youth’s recesses<br /> + Some memory it possesses,<br /> +And, gazing through the lens of time, exaggerates its worth,<br +/> +When gloomy, gray December is roused to Christmas mirth.</p> +<p class="poetry">When hanging up the holly or mistletoe, I +wis<br /> +Each heart recalls some folly that lit the world with bliss.<br +/> + Not all the seers and sages<br /> + With wisdom of the ages<br /> +Can give the mind such pleasure as memories of that kiss<br /> +When hanging up the holly or mistletoe, I wis.</p> +<p class="poetry">For life was made for loving, and love alone +repays,<br /> +As passing years are proving, for all of Time’s sad +ways.<br /> + There lies a sting in pleasure,<br /> + And fame gives shallow measure,<br /> +And wealth is but a phantom that mocks the restless days,<br /> +For life was made for loving, and only loving pays.</p> +<p class="poetry">When Christmas bells are pelting the air with silver +chimes,<br /> +And silences are melting to soft, melodious rhymes,<br /> + Let Love, the world’s beginning,<br /> + End fear and hate and sinning;<br /> +Let Love, the God Eternal, be worshipped in all climes<br /> +When Christmas bells are pelting the air with silver chimes.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem47"></a>THE RIVER</h2> + +<p class="poetry">I am a river flowing from God’s sea<br /> +Through devious ways. He mapped my course for me;<br /> +I cannot change it; mine alone the toil<br /> +To keep the waters free from grime and soil.<br /> +The winding river ends where it began;<br /> +And when my life has compassed its brief span<br /> +I must return to that mysterious source.<br /> +So let me gather daily on my course<br /> +The perfume from the blossoms as I pass,<br /> +Balm from the pines, and healing from the grass,<br /> +And carry down my current as I go<br /> +Not common stones but precious gems to show;<br /> +And tears (the holy water from sad eyes)<br /> +Back to God’s sea, from which all rivers rise,<br /> +Let me convey, not blood from wounded hearts,<br /> +Nor poison which the upas tree imparts.<br /> +When over flowery vales I leap with joy,<br /> +Let me not devastate them, nor destroy,<br /> +But rather leave them fairer to the sight;<br /> +Mine be the lot to comfort and delight.<br /> +And if down awful chasms I needs must leap,<br /> +Let me not murmur at my lot, but sweep<br /> +On bravely to the end without one fear,<br /> +Knowing that He who planned my ways stands near.<br /> +Love sent me forth, to Love I go again,<br /> +For Love is all, and over all. Amen.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem48"></a>SORRY</h2> + +<p class="poetry">There is much that makes me sorry as I journey +down life’s way,<br /> +And I seem to see more pathos in poor human lives each day.<br /> +I’m sorry for the strong, brave men who shield the weak +from harm,<br /> +But who, in their own troubled hours, find no protecting arm.</p> +<p class="poetry">I’m sorry for the victors who have +reached success, to stand<br /> +As targets for the arrows shot by envious failure’s +hand.<br /> +I’m sorry for the generous hearts who freely shared their +wine,<br /> +But drink alone the gall of tears in fortune’s drear +decline.</p> +<p class="poetry">I’m sorry for the souls who build their own +fame’s funeral pyre,<br /> +Derided by the scornful throng like ice deriding fire.<br /> +I’m sorry for the conquering ones who know not sin’s +defeat,<br /> +But daily tread down fierce desire ’neath scorched and +bleeding feet.</p> +<p class="poetry">I’m sorry for the anguished hearts that +break with passion’s strain,<br /> +But I’m sorrier for the poor starved souls that never knew +love’s pain,<br /> +Who hunger on through barren years not tasting joys they +crave,<br /> +For sadder far is such a lot than weeping o’er a grave.</p> +<p class="poetry">I’m sorry for the souls that come +unwelcomed into birth,<br /> +I’m sorry for the unloved old who cumber up the earth,<br +/> +I’m sorry for the suffering poor in life’s great +maelstrom hurled—<br /> +In truth, I’m sorry for them all who make this aching +world.</p> +<p class="poetry">But underneath whate’er seems sad and is not +understood,<br /> +I know there lies hid from our sight a mighty germ of good.<br /> +And this belief stands firm by me, my sermon, motto, +text—<br /> +The sorriest things in this life will seem grandest in the +next.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem49"></a>AMBITION’S TRAIL</h2> + +<p class="poetry">If all the end of this continuous striving<br +/> + Were simply <i>to attain</i>,<br /> +How poor would seem the planning and contriving,<br /> +The endless urging and the hurried driving,<br /> + Of body, heart, and brain!</p> +<p class="poetry">But ever in the wake of true achieving<br /> + There shines this glowing trail—<br /> +Some other soul will be spurred on, conceiving<br /> +New strength and hope, in its own power believing,<br /> + Because <i>thou</i> didst not fail.</p> +<p class="poetry">Not thine alone the glory, nor the sorrow,<br +/> + If thou dost miss the goal;<br /> +Undreamed of lives in many a far to-morrow<br /> +From thee their weakness or their force shall borrow—<br /> + On, on, ambitious soul.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem50"></a>UNCONTROLLED</h2> + +<p class="poetry">The mighty forces of mysterious space<br /> + Are one by one subdued by lordly man.<br /> + The awful lightning that for eons ran<br /> + Their devastating and untrammelled race,<br /> +Now bear his messages from place to place<br /> + Like carrier doves. The winds lead on his +van;<br /> + The lawless elements no longer can<br /> +Resist his strength, but yield with sullen grace.</p> +<p class="poetry">His bold feet scaling heights before untrod,<br +/> + Light, darkness, air and water, heat and cold,<br /> + He bids go forth and bring him +power and pelf.<br /> +And yet, though ruler, king and demi-god,<br /> + He walks with his fierce passions uncontrolled,<br +/> + The conqueror of all +things—save himself.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem51"></a>WILL</h2> + +<p class="poetry">You will be what you will to be;<br /> + Let failure find its false content<br /> + In that poor word “environment,”<br /> +But spirit scorns it, and is free.</p> +<p class="poetry">It masters time, it conquers space,<br /> + It cowes that boastful trickster Chance,<br /> + And bids the tyrant Circumstance<br /> +Uncrown and fill a servant’s place.</p> +<p class="poetry">The human Will, that force unseen,<br /> + The offspring of a deathless Soul,<br /> + Can hew the way to any goal,<br /> +Though walls of granite intervene.</p> +<p class="poetry">Be not impatient in delay,<br /> + But wait as one who understands;<br /> + When spirit rises and commands,<br /> +The gods are ready to obey.</p> +<p class="poetry">The river seeking for the sea<br /> + Confronts the dam and precipice,<br /> + Yet knows it cannot fail or miss;<br /> +<i>You will be what you will to be</i>!</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem52"></a>TO AN ASTROLOGER</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Nay, seer, I do not doubt thy mystic lore,<br /> +Nor question that the tenor of my life,<br /> +Past, present, and the future, is revealed<br /> +There in my horoscope. I do believe<br /> +That yon dead moon compels the haughty seas<br /> +To ebb and flow, and that my natal star<br /> +Stands like a stern-browed sentinel in space<br /> +And challenges events; nor lets one grief,<br /> +Or joy, or failure, or success, pass on<br /> +To mar or bless my earthly lot, until<br /> +It proves its Karmic right to come to me.</p> +<p class="poetry">All this I grant, but more than this I +<i>know</i>!<br /> +Before the solar systems were conceived,<br /> +When nothing was but the unnamable,<br /> +My spirit lived, an atom of the Cause.<br /> +Through countless ages and in many forms<br /> +It has existed, ere it entered in<br /> +This human frame to serve its little day<br /> +Upon the earth. The deathless Me of me.<br /> +The spark from that great all-creative fire,<br /> +Is part of that eternal source called God,<br /> +And mightier than the universe.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Why, he<br +/> +Who knows, and knowing, never once forgets<br /> +The pedigree divine of his own soul,<br /> +Can conquer, shape, and govern destiny,<br /> +And use vast space as ’twere a board for chess<br /> +With stars for pawns; can change his horoscope<br /> +To suit his will; turn failure to success,<br /> +And from preordained sorrows, harvest joy.</p> +<p class="poetry">There is no puny planet, sun, or moon,<br /> +Or zodiacal sign which can control<br /> +The God in us! If we bring <i>that</i> to bear<br /> +Upon events, we mould them to our wish;<br /> +’Tis when the infinite ’neath the finite gropes<br /> +That men are governed by their horoscopes.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem53"></a>THE TENDRIL’S FATE</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Under the snow, in the dark and the cold,<br /> + A pale little sprout was humming;<br /> +Sweetly it sang, ’neath the frozen mould,<br /> + Of the beautiful days that were coming.</p> +<p class="poetry">“How foolish your songs!” said a +lump of clay;<br /> + “What is there, I ask, to prove them?<br /> +Just look at the walls between you and the day,<br /> + Now, have you the strength to move them?”</p> +<p class="poetry">But under the ice and under the snow<br /> + The pale little sprout kept singing,<br /> +“I cannot tell how, but I know, I know,<br /> + I know what the days are bringing.</p> +<p class="poetry">“Birds, and blossoms, and buzzing bees,<br /> + Blue, blue skies above me,<br /> +Bloom on the meadows and buds on the trees<br /> + And the great glad sun to love me.”</p> +<p class="poetry">A pebble spoke next: “You are quite +absurd,”<br /> + It said, “with your song’s +insistence;<br /> +For <i>I</i> never saw a tree or a bird,<br /> + So of course there are none in existence.”</p> +<p class="poetry">“But I know, I know,” the tendril +cried,<br /> + In beautiful sweet unreason;<br /> +Till lo! from its prison, glorified,<br /> + It burst in the glad spring season.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem54"></a>THE TIMES</h2> + +<p class="poetry"> The times are not +degenerate. Man’s faith<br /> +Mounts higher than of old. No crumbling creed<br /> +Can take from the immortal soul the need<br /> + Of that supreme Creator, God. The wraith<br /> +Of dead beliefs we cherished in our youth<br /> +Fades but to let us welcome new-born Truth.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Man may not worship at the +ancient shrine<br /> +Prone on his face, in self-accusing scorn.<br /> +That night is past. He hails a fairer morn,<br /> + And knows himself a something all divine;<br /> +Not humble worm whose heritage is sin,<br /> +But, born of God, he feels the Christ withal.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Not loud his prayers, as in the +olden time,<br /> +But deep his reverence for that mighty force,<br /> +That occult working of the great All-Source,<br /> + Which makes the present era so sublime.<br /> +Religion now means something high and broad.<br /> +And man stood never half so near to God.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem55"></a>THE QUESTION</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Beside us in our seeking after pleasures,<br /> + Through all our restless striving after fame,<br /> +Through all our search for worldly gains and treasures,<br /> + There walketh one whom no man likes to name.<br /> +Silent he follows, veiled of form and feature,<br /> + Indifferent if we sorrow or rejoice,<br /> +Yet that day comes when every living creature<br /> + Must look upon his face and hear his voice.</p> +<p class="poetry">When that day comes to you, and Death, +unmasking,<br /> + Shall bar your path, and say, “Behold the +end,”<br /> +What are the questions that he will be asking<br /> + About your past? Have you considered, +friend?<br /> +I think he will not chide you for your sinning,<br /> + Nor for your creeds or dogmas will he care;<br /> +He will but ask, “From your life’s first beginning<br +/> + How many burdens have you helped to bear?”</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem56"></a>SORROW’S USES</h2> + +<p class="poetry">The uses of sorrow I comprehend<br /> +Better and better at each year’s end.</p> +<p class="poetry">Deeper and deeper I seem to see<br /> +Why and wherefore it has to be.</p> +<p class="poetry">Only after the dark, wet days<br /> +Do we fully rejoice in the sun’s bright rays.</p> +<p class="poetry">Sweeter the crust tastes after the fast<br /> +Than the sated gourmand’s finest repast.</p> +<p class="poetry">The faintest cheer sounds never amiss<br /> +To the actor who once has heard a hiss.</p> +<p class="poetry">To one who the sadness of freedom knows,<br /> +Light seem the fetters love may impose.</p> +<p class="poetry">And he who has dwelt with his heart alone,<br +/> +Hears all the music in friendship’s tone.</p> +<p class="poetry">So better and better I comprehend<br /> +How sorrow ever would be our friend.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem57"></a>IF</h2> + +<p class="poetry">’Twixt what thou art, and what thou +wouldst be, let<br /> +No “If” arise on which to lay the blame.<br /> +Man makes a mountain of that puny word,<br /> +But, like a blade of grass before the scythe,<br /> +It falls and withers when a human will,<br /> +Stirred by creative force, sweeps toward its aim.</p> +<p class="poetry">Thou wilt be what thou couldst be. +Circumstance<br /> +Is but the toy of genius. When a soul<br /> +Burns with a god-like purpose to achieve,<br /> +All obstacles between it and its goal<br /> +Must vanish as the dew before the sun.</p> +<p class="poetry">“If” is the motto of the dilettante<br /> +And idle dreamer; ’tis the poor excuse<br /> +Of mediocrity. The truly great<br /> +Know not the word, or know it but to scorn,<br /> +Else had Joan of Arc a peasant died,<br /> +Uncrowned by glory and by men unsung.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem58"></a>WHICH ARE YOU?</h2> + +<p class="poetry">There are two kinds of people on earth +to-day;<br /> +Just two kinds of people, no more, I say.</p> +<p class="poetry">Not the sinner and saint, for it’s well +understood<br /> +The good are half bad, and the bad are half good.</p> +<p class="poetry">Not the rich and the poor, for to rate a +man’s wealth<br /> +You must first know the state of his conscience and health.</p> +<p class="poetry">Not the humble and proud, for, in life’s +little span,<br /> +Who puts on vain airs is not counted a man.</p> +<p class="poetry">Not the happy and sad, for the swift flying +years<br /> +Bring each man his laughter, and each man his tears.</p> +<p class="poetry">No; the two kinds of people on earth I mean<br /> +Are the people who lift, and the people who lean.</p> +<p class="poetry">Wherever you go, you will find the +earth’s masses<br /> +Are always divided in just these two classes.</p> +<p class="poetry">And, oddly enough, you will find too, I +ween,<br /> +There’s only one lifter to twenty who lean.</p> +<p class="poetry">In which class are you? Are you easing +the load<br /> +Of overtaxed lifters, who toil down the road?</p> +<p class="poetry">Or are you a leaner, who lets others share<br +/> +Your portion of labour and worry and care?</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem59"></a>THE CREED TO BE</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Our thoughts are moulding unmade spheres,<br /> + And, like a blessing or a curse,<br /> +They thunder down the formless years,<br /> + And ring throughout the universe.</p> +<p class="poetry">We build our futures by the shape<br /> + Of our desires, and not by acts.<br /> +There is no pathway of escape;<br /> + No priest-made creeds can alter facts.</p> +<p class="poetry">Salvation is not begged or bought;<br /> + Too long this selfish hope sufficed;<br /> +Too long man reeked with lawless thought,<br /> + And leaned upon a tortured Christ.</p> +<p class="poetry">Like shrivelled leaves, these worn-out creeds<br /> + Are dropping from Religion’s tree;<br /> +The world begins to know its needs,<br /> + And souls are crying to be free.</p> +<p class="poetry">Free from the load of fear and grief,<br /> + Man fashioned in an ignorant age;<br /> +Free from the ache of unbelief<br /> + He fled to in rebellious rage.</p> +<p class="poetry">No church can bind him to the things<br /> + That fed the first crude souls, evolved;<br /> +For, mounting up on daring wings,<br /> + He questions mysteries all unsolved.</p> +<p class="poetry">Above the chant of priests, above<br /> + The blatant voice of braying doubt,<br /> +He hears the still, small voice of Love,<br /> + Which sends its simple message out.</p> +<p class="poetry">And clearer, sweeter, day by day,<br /> + Its mandate echoes from the skies,<br /> +“Go roll the stone of self away,<br /> + And let the Christ within thee rise.”</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem60"></a>INSPIRATION</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Not like a daring, bold, aggressive boy,<br /> + Is inspiration, eager to pursue,<br /> +But rather like a maiden, fond, yet coy,<br /> + Who gives herself to him who best doth woo.</p> +<p class="poetry">Once she may smile, or thrice, thy soul to +fire,<br /> + In passing by, but when she turns her face,<br /> +Thou must persist and seek her with desire,<br /> + If thou wouldst win the favour of her grace.</p> +<p class="poetry">And if, like some winged bird, she cleaves the +air,<br /> + And leaves thee spent and stricken on the earth,<br +/> +Still must thou strive to follow even there,<br /> + That she may know thy valour and thy worth.</p> +<p class="poetry">Then shall she come unveiling all her charms,<br /> + Giving thee joy for pain, and smiles for tears;<br +/> +Then shalt thou clasp her with possessing arms,<br /> + The while she murmurs music in thine ears.</p> +<p class="poetry">But ere her kiss has faded from thy cheek,<br +/> + She shall flee from thee over hill and glade,<br /> +So must thou seek and ever seek and seek<br /> + For each new conquest of this phantom maid</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem61"></a>THE WISH</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Should some great angel say to me to-morrow,<br +/> + “Thou must re-tread thy pathway from the +start,<br /> +But God will grant, in pity, for thy sorrow,<br /> + Some one dear wish, the nearest to thy +heart.”</p> +<p class="poetry">This were my wish!—from my life’s +dim beginning<br /> + <i>Let be what has been</i>! wisdom planned the +whole<br /> +My want, my woe, my errors, and my sinning,<br /> + All, all were needed lessons for my soul.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem62"></a>THREE FRIENDS</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Of all the blessings which my life has +known,<br /> +I value most, and most praise God for three:<br /> +Want, Loneliness, and Pain, those comrades true,</p> +<p class="poetry">Who masqueraded in the garb of foes<br /> +For many a year, and filled my heart with dread.<br /> +Yet fickle joys, like false, pretentious friends,<br /> +Have proved less worthy than this trio. First,</p> +<p class="poetry">Want taught me labour, led me up the steep<br +/> +And toilsome paths to hills of pure delight,<br /> +Trod only by the feet that know fatigue,<br /> +And yet press on until the heights appear.</p> +<p class="poetry">Then loneliness and hunger of the heart<br /> +Sent me upreaching to the realms of space,<br /> +Till all the silences grew eloquent,<br /> +And all their loving forces hailed me friend.</p> +<p class="poetry">Last, pain taught prayer! placed in my hand the +staff<br /> +Of close communion with the over-soul,<br /> +That I might lean upon it to the end,<br /> +And find myself made strong for any strife.</p> +<p class="poetry">And then these three who had pursued my +steps<br /> +Like stern, relentless foes, year after year,<br /> +Unmasked, and turned their faces full on me,<br /> +And lo! they were divinely beautiful,<br /> +For through them shone the lustrous eyes of Love.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem63"></a>YOU NEVER CAN TELL</h2> + +<p class="poetry">You never can tell when you send a word,<br /> + Like an arrow shot from a bow<br /> +By an archer blind, be it cruel or kind,<br /> + Just where it may chance to go!<br /> +It may pierce the breast of your dearest friend,<br /> + Tipped with its poison or balm;<br /> +To a stranger’s heart in life’s great mart,<br /> + It may carry its pain or its calm.</p> +<p class="poetry">You never can tell when you do an act<br /> + Just what the result will be;<br /> +But with every deed you are sowing a seed,<br /> + Though the harvest you may not see.<br /> +Each kindly act is an acorn dropped<br /> + In God’s productive soil.<br /> +You may not know, but the tree shall grow,<br /> + With shelter for those who toil.</p> +<p class="poetry">You never can tell what your thoughts will do,<br /> + In bringing you hate or love;<br /> +For thoughts are things, and their airy wings<br /> + Are swifter than carrier doves.<br /> +They follow the law of the universe—<br /> + Each thing must create its kind;<br /> +And they speed o’er the track to bring you back<br /> + <i>Whatever went out from your mind</i>.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem64"></a>HERE AND NOW</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Here, in the heart of the world,<br /> + Here, in the noise and the din,<br /> +Here, where our spirits were hurled<br /> + To battle with sorrow and sin,<br /> +This is the place and the spot<br /> + For knowledge of infinite things<br /> +This is the kingdom where Thought<br /> + Can conquer the prowess of kings</p> +<p class="poetry">Wait for no heavenly life,<br /> + Seek for no temple alone;<br /> +Here, in the midst of the strife,<br /> + Know what the sages have known.<br /> +See what the Perfect Ones saw—<br /> + God in the depth of each soul,<br /> +God as the light and the law,<br /> + God as beginning and goal.</p> +<p class="poetry">Earth is one chamber of Heaven,<br /> + Death is no grander than birth.<br /> +Joy in the life that was given,<br /> + Strive for perfection on earth;<br /> +Here, in the turmoil and roar,<br /> + Show what it is to be calm;<br /> +Show how the spirit can soar<br /> + And bring back its healing and balm.</p> +<p class="poetry">Stand not aloof nor apart,<br /> + Plunge in the thick of the fight;<br /> +There, in the street and the mart,<br /> + That is the place to do right.<br /> +Not in some cloister or cave,<br /> + Not in some kingdom above,<br /> +Here, on this side of the grave,<br /> + Here, should we labour and love.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem65"></a>UNCONQUERED</h2> + +<p class="poetry">However skilled and strong art thou, my foe,<br +/> +However fierce is thy relentless hate,<br /> +Though firm thy hand, and strong thy aim, and straight<br /> +Thy poisoned arrow leaves the bended bow,</p> +<p class="poetry">To pierce the target of my heart, ah! know<br +/> + I am the master yet of my own fate.<br /> + Thou canst not rob me of my best estate,<br /> +Though fortune, fame, and friends, yea, love shall go.</p> +<p class="poetry">Not to the dust shall my true self be +hurled,<br /> + Nor shall I meet thy worst assaults dismayed;<br /> + When all things in the balance are well weighed,<br +/> +There is but one great danger in the world—<br /> + <i>Thou canst not force my soul to wish thee +ill</i>,<br /> + That is the only evil that can kill.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem66"></a>ALL THAT LOVE ASKS</h2> + +<p class="poetry"> “All that I ask,” +says Love, “is just to stand<br /> + And gaze, unchided, deep in thy dear eyes;<br /> + For in their depths lies largest Paradise.<br /> +Yet, if perchance one pressure of thy hand<br /> + Be granted me, then joy I thought complete<br /> + Were still more sweet.</p> +<p class="poetry"> “All that I ask,” +says Love, “all that I ask,<br /> + Is just thy hand-clasp. Could I brush thy +cheek<br /> + As zephyrs brush a rose leaf, words are weak<br /> +To tell the bliss in which my soul would bask.<br /> + There is no language but would desecrate<br /> + A joy so great.</p> +<p class="poetry"> “All that I ask, is just one +tender touch<br /> + Of that soft cheek. Thy pulsing palm in +mine,<br /> + Thy dark eyes lifted in a trust divine,<br /> +And those curled lips that tempt me overmuch<br /> + Turned where I may not seize the supreme bliss<br /> + Of one mad kiss.</p> +<p class="poetry"> “All that I ask,” +says Love, “of life, of death,<br /> + Or of high heaven itself, is just to stand,<br /> + Glance melting into glance, hand twined in hand,<br +/> +The while I drink the nectar of thy breath<br /> + In one sweet kiss, but one, of all thy store,<br /> + I ask no more.”</p> +<p class="poetry"> “All that I +ask”—nay, self-deceiving Love,<br /> + Reverse thy phrase, so thus the words may fall,<br +/> + In place of “all I ask,” say, “I +ask all,”<br /> +All that pertains to earth or soars above,<br /> + All that thou wert, art, will be, body, soul,<br /> + Love asks the whole,</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem67"></a>“DOES IT PAY?”</h2> + +<p class="poetry">If one poor burdened toiler o’er +life’s road,<br /> + Who meets us by the way,<br /> +Goes on less conscious of his galling load,<br /> + Then life, indeed, does pay.</p> +<p class="poetry">If we can show one troubled heart the gain<br +/> + That lies alway in loss,<br /> +Why, then, we too are paid for all the pain<br /> + Of bearing life’s hard cross.</p> +<p class="poetry">If some despondent soul to hope is stirred,<br +/> + Some sad lip made to smile,<br /> +By any act of ours, or any word,<br /> + Then, life has been worth while.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem68"></a>SESTINA</h2> + +<p class="poetry">I wandered o’er the vast green plains of +youth,<br /> +And searched for Pleasure. On a distant height<br /> +Fame’s silhouette stood sharp against the skies.<br /> +Beyond vast crowds that thronged a broad highway<br /> +I caught the glimmer of a golden goal,<br /> +While from a blooming bower smiled siren Love.</p> +<p class="poetry">Straight gazing in her eyes, I laughed at +Love<br /> +With all the haughty insolence of youth,<br /> +As past her bower I strode to seek my goal.<br /> +“Now will I climb to glory’s dizzy height,”<br +/> +I said, “for there above the common way<br /> +Doth pleasure dwell companioned by the skies.”</p> +<p class="poetry">But when I reached that summit near the skies,<br /> +So far from man I seemed, so far from Love—<br /> +“Not here,” I cried, “doth Pleasure find her +way.”<br /> +Seen from the distant borderland of youth,<br /> +Fame smiles upon us from her sun-kissed height,<br /> +But frowns in shadows when we reach the goal.</p> +<p class="poetry">Then were mine eyes fixed on that glittering +goal,<br /> +Dear to all sense—sunk souls beneath the skies.<br /> +Gold tempts the artist from the lofty height,<br /> +Gold lures the maiden from the arms of Love,<br /> +Gold buys the fresh, ingenuous heart of youth,<br /> +“And gold,” I said, “will show me +Pleasure’s way.”</p> +<p class="poetry">But ah! the soil and discord of that way,<br /> +Where savage hordes rushed headlong to the goal,<br /> +Dead to the best impulses of their youth,<br /> +Blind to the azure beauty of the skies;<br /> +Dulled to the voice of conscience and of love,<br /> +They wandered far from Truth’s eternal height.</p> +<p class="poetry">Then Truth spoke to me from that noble +height,<br /> +Saying, “Thou didst pass Pleasure on the way,<br /> +She with the yearning eyes so full of Love,<br /> +Whom thou disdained to seek for glory’s goal.<br /> +Two blending paths beneath God’s arching skies<br /> +Lead straight to Pleasure. Ah! blind heart of youth,<br /> +Not up fame’s height, not toward the base god’s +goal,<br /> +Doth Pleasure make her way, but ’neath calm skies<br /> +Where Duty walks with Love in endless youth.”</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem69"></a>>THE OPTIMIST</h2> + +<p class="poetry">The fields were bleak and sodden.<br /> + Not a wing<br /> +Or note enlivened the depressing wood;<br /> +A soiled and sullen, stubborn snowdrift stood<br /> +Beside the roadway. Winds came muttering<br /> +Of storms to be, and brought the chilly sting<br /> + Of icebergs in their breath. Stalled cattle +mooed<br /> + Forth plaintive pleadings for the earth’s +green food.<br /> +No gleam, no hint of hope in anything.</p> +<p class="poetry">The sky was blank and ashen, like the face<br +/> + Of some poor wretch who drains life’s cup too +fast<br /> +Yet, swaying to and fro, as if to fling<br /> +About chilled Nature its lithe arms of grace,<br /> + Smiling with promise in the wintry blast,<br /> +The optimistic Willow spoke of spring.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem70"></a>THE PESSIMIST</h2> + +<p class="poetry">The pessimistic locust, last to leaf,<br /> +Though all the world is glad, still talks of grief.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem71"></a>AN INSPIRATION</h2> + +<p class="poetry">However the battle is ended,<br /> + Though proudly the victor comes<br /> +With fluttering flags and prancing nags<br /> + And echoing roll of drums,<br /> +Still truth proclaims this motto<br /> + In letters of living light,—<br /> +No question is ever settled<br /> + Until it is settled right.</p> +<p class="poetry">Though the heel of the strong oppressor<br /> + May grind the weak in the dust;<br /> +And the voices of fame with one acclaim<br /> + May call him great and just,<br /> +Let those who applaud take warning.<br /> + And keep this motto in sight,—<br /> +No question is ever settled<br /> + Until it is settled right.</p> +<p class="poetry">Let those who have failed take courage;<br /> + Though the enemy seems to have won,<br /> +Though his ranks are strong, if he be in the wrong<br /> + The battle is not yet done;<br /> +For, sure as the morning follows<br /> + The darkest hour of the night,<br /> +No question is ever settled<br /> + Until it is settled right.</p> +<p class="poetry">O man bowed down with labour!<br /> + O woman young, yet old!<br /> +O heart oppressed in the toiler’s breast<br /> + And crushed by the power of gold<br /> +Keep on with your weary battle<br /> + Against triumphant might;<br /> +No question is ever settled<br /> + Until it is settled right.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem72"></a>LIFE’S HARMONIES</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Let no man pray that he know not sorrow,<br /> + Let no soul ask to be free from pain,<br /> +For the gall of to-day is the sweet of to-morrow,<br /> + And the moment’s loss is the lifetime’s +gain.</p> +<p class="poetry">Through want of a thing does its worth +redouble,<br /> + Through hunger’s pangs does the feast +content,<br /> +And only the heart that has harboured trouble<br /> + Can fully rejoice when joy is sent.</p> +<p class="poetry">Let no man shrink from the bitter tonics<br /> + Of grief, and yearning, and need, and strife,<br /> +For the rarest chords in the soul’s harmonics<br /> + Are found in the minor strains of life.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem73"></a>PREPARATION</h2> + +<p class="poetry">We must not force events, but rather make<br /> +The heart soil ready for their coming, as<br /> +The earth spreads carpets for the feet of Spring,<br /> +Or, with the strengthening tonic of the frost,<br /> +Prepares for winter. Should a July noon<br /> +Burst suddenly upon a frozen world<br /> +Small joy would follow, even though that world<br /> +Were longing for the Summer. Should the sting<br /> +Of sharp December pierce the heart of June,<br /> +What death and devastation would ensue!<br /> +All things are planned. The most majestic sphere<br /> +That whirls through space is governed and controlled<br /> +By supreme law, as is the blade of grass<br /> +Which through the bursting bosom of the earth<br /> +Creeps up to kiss the light. Poor, puny man<br /> +Alone doth strive and battle with the Force<br /> +Which rules all lives and worlds, and he alone<br /> +Demands effect before producing cause.<br /> +How vain the hope! We cannot harvest joy<br /> +Until we sow the seed, and God alone<br /> +Knows when that seed has ripened. Oft we stand<br /> +And watch the ground with anxious, brooding eyes,<br /> +Complaining of the slow, unfruitful yield,<br /> +Not knowing that the shadow of ourselves<br /> +Keeps off the sunlight and delays result.<br /> +Sometimes our fierce impatience of desire<br /> +Doth like a sultry May force tender shoots<br /> +Of half-formed pleasures and unshaped events<br /> +To ripen prematurely, and we reap<br /> +But disappointment; or we rot the germs<br /> +With briny tears ere they have time to grow.<br /> +While stars are born and mighty planets die<br /> +And hissing comets scorch the brow of space,<br /> +The Universe keeps its eternal calm.<br /> +Through patient preparation, year on year,<br /> +The earth endures the travail of the Spring<br /> +And Winter’s desolation. So our souls<br /> +In grand submission to a higher law<br /> +Should move serene through all the ills of life<br /> +Believing them masked joys.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem74"></a></h2> + +<p class="poetry">In golden youth when seems the earth<br /> +A Summer-land of singing mirth,<br /> +When souls are glad and hearts are light,<br /> +And not a shadow lurks in sight,<br /> +We do not know it, but there lieu<br /> +Somewhere veiled under evening skies<br /> +A garden which we all must see—<br /> +The garden of Gethsemane.</p> +<p class="poetry">With joyous steps we go our ways,<br /> +Love lends a halo to our days;<br /> +Light sorrows sail like clouds afar,<br /> +We laugh, and say how strong we are.<br /> +We hurry on; and hurrying, go<br /> +Close to the borderland of woe<br /> +That waits for you, and waits for me—<br /> +Forever waits Gethsemane.</p> +<p class="poetry">Down shadowy lanes, across strange streams,<br /> +Bridged over by our broken dreams;<br /> +Behind the misty caps of years,<br /> +Beyond the great salt fount of tears,<br /> +The garden lies. Strive as you may,<br /> +You cannot miss it in your way;<br /> +All paths that have been, or shall be,<br /> +Pass somewhere through Gethsemane.</p> +<p class="poetry">All those who journey, soon or late,<br /> +Must pass within the garden’s gate;<br /> +Must kneel alone in darkness there,<br /> +And battle with some fierce despair.<br /> +God pity those who cannot say,<br /> +“Not mine but Thine”; who only pray<br /> +“Let this cup pass,” and cannot see<br /> +The <i>purpose</i> in Gethsemane.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem75"></a>GOD’S MEASURE</h2> + +<p class="poetry">God measures souls by their capacity<br /> +For entertaining his best Angel, Love.<br /> +Who loveth most is nearest kin to God,<br /> +Who is all Love, or Nothing.</p> +<p class="poetry"> He who +sits<br /> +And looks out on the palpitating world,<br /> +And feels his heart swell in him large enough<br /> +To hold all men within it, he is near<br /> +His great Creator’s standard, though he dwells<br /> +Outside the pale of churches, and knows not<br /> +A feast-day from a fast-day, or a line<br /> +Of Scripture even. What God wants of us<br /> +Is that outreaching bigness that ignores<br /> +All littleness of aims, or loves, or creeds,<br /> +And clasps all Earth and Heaven in its embrace.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem76"></a>NOBLESSE OBLIGE</h2> + +<p class="poetry">I hold it the duty of one who is gifted<br /> + And specially dowered in all men’s sight,<br +/> +To know no rest till his life is lifted<br /> + Fully up to his great gifts’ height.</p> +<p class="poetry">He must mould the man into rare +completeness,<br /> + For gems are set only in gold refined.<br /> +He must fashion his thoughts into perfect sweetness.<br /> + And cast out folly and pride from his mind.</p> +<p class="poetry">For he who drinks from a god’s gold +fountain<br /> + Of art or music or rhythmic song<br /> +Must sift from his soul the chaff of malice,<br /> + And weed from his heart the roots of wrong.</p> +<p class="poetry">Great gifts should be worn, like a crown +befitting,<br /> + And not like gems in a beggar’s hands!<br /> +And the toil must be constant and unremitting<br /> + Which lifts up the king to the crown’s +demands.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem77"></a>THROUGH TEARS</h2> + +<p class="poetry">An artist toiled over his pictures;<br /> + He laboured by night and by day,<br /> +He struggled for glory and honour<br /> + But the world, it had nothing to say.<br /> +His walls were ablaze with the splendours<br /> + We see in the beautiful skies;<br /> +But the world beheld only the colours<br /> + That were made out of chemical dyes.</p> +<p class="poetry">Time sped. And he lived, loved, and +suffered;<br /> + He passed through the valley of grief.<br /> +Again he toiled over his canvas,<br /> + Since in labour alone was relief.<br /> +It showed not the splendour of colours<br /> + Of those of his earlier years;<br /> +But the world? the world bowed down before it<br /> + Because it was painted with tears.</p> +<p class="poetry">A poet was gifted with genius,<br /> + And he sang, and he sang all the days.<br /> +He wrote for the praise of the people,<br /> + But the people accorded no praise.<br /> +Oh! his songs were as blithe as the morning,<br /> + As sweet as the music of birds;<br /> +But the world had no homage to offer,<br /> + Because they were nothing but words.</p> +<p class="poetry">Time sped. And the poet through sorrow<br +/> + Became like his suffering kind.<br /> +Again he toiled over his poems<br /> + To lighten the grief of his mind.<br /> +They were not so flowing and rhythmic<br /> + As those of his earlier years;<br /> +But the world? lo! it offered its homage,<br /> + Because they were written in tears.</p> +<p class="poetry">So ever the price must be given<br /> + By those seeking glory in art;<br /> +So ever the world is repaying<br /> + The grief-stricken, suffering heart.<br /> +The happy must ever be humble;<br /> + Ambition must wait for the years<br /> +Ere hoping to win the approval<br /> + Of a world that looks on through its tears.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem78"></a>WHAT WE NEED</h2> + +<p class="poetry">What does our country need? No armies +standing<br /> + With sabres gleaming ready for the fight;<br /> +Not increased navies, skilful and commanding,<br /> + To bound the waters with an iron might;<br /> +Not haughty men with glutted purses trying<br /> + To purchase souls, and keep the power of place;<br +/> +Not jewelled dolls with one another vying<br /> + For palms of beauty, elegance, and grace.</p> +<p class="poetry">But we want women, strong of soul, yet +lowly,<br /> + With that rare meekness, born of gentleness;<br /> +Women whose lives are pure and clean and holy,<br /> + The women whom all little children bless;<br /> +Brave, earnest women, helpful to each other,<br /> + With finest scorn for all things low and mean;<br /> +Women who hold the names of wife and mother<br /> + Far nobler than the title of a queen.</p> +<p class="poetry">Oh! these are they who mould the men of +story,<br /> + These mothers, ofttimes shorn of grace and youth,<br +/> +Who, worn and weary, ask no greater glory<br /> + Than making some young soul the home of truth;<br /> +Who sow in hearts all fallow for the sowing<br /> + The seeds of virtue and of scorn for sin,<br /> +And, patient, watch the beauteous harvest growing<br /> + And weed out tares which crafty hands cast in;</p> +<p class="poetry">Women who do not hold the gift of beauty<br /> + As some rare treasure to be bought and sold.<br /> +But guard it as a precious aid to duty—<br /> + The outer framing of the inner gold;<br /> +Women who, low above their cradles bending,<br /> + Let flattery’s voice go by, and give no +heed,<br /> +While their pure prayers like incense are ascending<br /> + <i>These</i> are our country’s pride, our +country’s need,</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem79"></a>PLEA TO SCIENCE</h2> + +<p class="poetry">O Science, reaching backward through the +distance,<br /> + Most earnest child of God,<br /> +Exposing all the secrets of existence,<br /> + With thy divining rod,<br /> +I bid thee speed up to the heights supernal,<br /> + Clear thinker, ne’er sufficed;<br /> +Go seek and bind the laws and truths eternal,<br /> + But leave me Christ.</p> +<p class="poetry">Upon the vanity of pious sages<br /> + Let in the light of day;<br /> +Break down the superstitions of all ages—<br /> + Thrust bigotry away;<br /> +Stride on, and bid all stubborn foes defiance,<br /> + Let Truth and Reason reign:<br /> +But I beseech thee, O Immortal Science,<br /> + Let Christ remain.</p> +<p class="poetry">What canst thou give to help me bear my crosses,<br /> + In place of Him, my Lord?<br /> +And what to recompense for all my losses,<br /> + And bring me sweet reward?<br /> +<i>Thou</i> couldst not with thy clear, cold eyes of reason,<br +/> + Thou couldst not comfort me<br /> +Like One who passed through that tear-blotted season<br /> + In sad Gethsemane!</p> +<p class="poetry">Through all the weary, wearing hour of +sorrow,<br /> + What word that thou hast said<br /> +Would make me strong to wait for some to-morrow<br /> + When I should find my dead?<br /> +When I am weak, and desolate, and lonely—<br /> + And prone to follow wrong?<br /> +Not thou, O Science—Christ, my Saviour, only<br /> + Can make me strong.</p> +<p class="poetry">Thou art so cold, so lofty, and so distant,<br +/> + Though great my need might be,<br /> +No prayer, however constant and persistent,<br /> + Could bring thee down to me.<br /> +Christ stands so near, to help me through each hour,<br /> + To guide me day by day<br /> +O Science, sweeping all before thy power—<br /> + Leave Christ, I pray!</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem80"></a>RESPITE</h2> + +<p class="poetry">The mighty conflict, which we call +existence,<br /> + Doth wear upon the body and the soul,<br /> +Our vital forces wasted in resistance,<br /> + So much there is to conquer and control.</p> +<p class="poetry">The rock which meets the billows with +defiance,<br /> + Undaunted and unshaken day by day,<br /> +In spite of its unyielding self-reliance,<br /> + Is by the warfare surely worn away.</p> +<p class="poetry">And there are depths and heights of strong +emotions<br /> + That surge at times within the human breast,<br /> +More fierce than all the tides of all the oceans<br /> + Which sweep on ever in divine unrest.</p> +<p class="poetry">I sometimes think the rock worn with adventures,<br /> + And sad with thoughts of conflicts yet to be,<br /> +Must envy the frail reed which no one censures,<br /> + When, overcome, ’tis swallowed by the sea.</p> +<p class="poetry">This life is all resistance and repression.<br +/> + Dear God, if in that other world unseen,<br /> +Not rest we find, but new life and progression,<br /> + Grant us a respite in the grave between.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem81"></a>SONG</h2> + +<p class="poetry">O praise me not with your lips, dear one!<br /> + Though your tender words I prize.<br /> +But dearer by far is the soulful gaze<br /> + Of your eyes, your beautiful eyes<br /> + Your tender, loving eyes.</p> +<p class="poetry">O chide me not with your lips, dear one!<br /> + Though I cause your bosom sighs.<br /> +You can make repentance deeper far<br /> + By your sad, reproving eyes,<br /> + Your sorrowful, troubled eyes.</p> +<p class="poetry">Words, at the best, are but hollow sounds;<br +/> + Above, in the beaming skies,<br /> +The constant stars say never a word,<br /> + But only smile with their eyes—<br /> + Smile on with their lustrous +eyes.</p> +<p class="poetry">Then breathe no vow with your lips, dear one;<br /> + On the winged wind speech flies.<br /> +But I read the truth of your noble heart<br /> + In your soulful, speaking eyes—<br /> + In your deep and beautiful +eyes.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem82"></a>MY SHIPS</h2> + +<p class="poetry">If all the ships I have at sea<br /> +Should come a-sailing home to me,<br /> +Ah, well! the harbour could not hold<br /> +So many sails as there would be<br /> +If all my ships came in from sea.</p> +<p class="poetry">If half my ships came home from sea,<br /> +And brought their precious freight to me,<br /> +Ah, well! I should have wealth as great<br /> +As any king who sits in state—<br /> +So rich the treasures that would be<br /> +In half my ships now out at sea.</p> +<p class="poetry">If just one ship I have at sea<br /> +Should come a-sailing home to me,<br /> +Ah, well! the storm-clouds then might frown<br /> +For if the others all went down,<br /> +Still rich and proud and glad I’d be<br /> +If that one ship came back to me.</p> +<p class="poetry">If that one ship went down at sea,<br /> +And all the others came to me,<br /> +Weighed down with gems and wealth untold,<br /> +With glory, honours, riches, gold,<br /> +The poorest soul on earth I’d be<br /> +If that one ship came not to me.</p> +<p class="poetry">O skies, be calm! O winds, blow +free—<br /> +Blow all my ships safe home to me!<br /> +But if thou sendest some a-wrack,<br /> +To never more come sailing back,<br /> +Send any—all that skim the sea,<br /> +But bring my love-ship home to me.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem83"></a>HER LOVE</h2> + +<p class="poetry">The sands upon the ocean side<br /> +That change about with every tide,<br /> +And never true to one abide,<br /> + A woman’s love I liken to.</p> +<p class="poetry">The summer zephyrs, light and vain,<br /> +That sing the same alluring strain<br /> +To every grass blade on the plain—<br /> + A woman’s love is nothing more.</p> +<p class="poetry">The sunshine of an April day<br /> +That comes to warm you with its ray,<br /> +But while you smile has flown away—<br /> + A woman’s love is like to this.</p> +<p class="poetry">God made poor woman with no heart,<br /> +But gave her skill, and tact, and art,<br /> +And so she lives, and plays her part.<br /> + We must not blame, but pity her.</p> +<p class="poetry">She leans to man—but just to hear<br /> +The praise he whispers in her ear;<br /> +Herself, not him, she holdeth dear—<br /> + O fool! to be deceived by her.</p> +<p class="poetry">To sate her selfish thirst she quaffs<br /> +The love of strong hearts in sweet draughts,<br /> +Then throws them lightly by and laughs,<br /> + Too weak to understand their pain.</p> +<p class="poetry">As changeful as the winds that blow<br /> +From every region to and fro,<br /> +Devoid of heart, she cannot know<br /> + The suffering of a human heart.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem84"></a>IF</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Dear love, if you and I could sail away,<br /> + With snowy pennons to the winds unfurled,<br /> +Across the waters of some unknown bay,<br /> + And find some island far from all the world;</p> +<p class="poetry">If we could dwell there, evermore alone,<br /> + While unrecorded years slip by apace,<br /> +Forgetting and forgotten and unknown<br /> + By aught save native song-birds of the place;</p> +<p class="poetry">If Winter never visited that land,<br /> + And Summer’s lap spilled o’er with +fruits and flowers,<br /> +And tropic trees cast shade on every hand,<br /> + And twinèd boughs formed sleep-inviting +bowers;</p> +<p class="poetry">If from the fashions of the world set free,<br /> + And hid away from all its jealous strife,<br /> +I lived alone for you, and you for me—<br /> + Ah! then, dear love, how sweet were wedded life.</p> +<p class="poetry">But since we dwell here in the crowded way,<br +/> + Where hurrying throngs rush by to seek for gold,<br +/> +And all is commonplace and work-a-day<br /> + As soon as love’s young honeymoon grows +old;</p> +<p class="poetry">Since fashion rules and nature yields to +art,<br /> + And life is hurt by daily jar and fret,<br /> +’Tis best to shut such dreams down in the heart<br /> + And go our ways alone, love, and forget.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem85"></a>LOVE’S BURIAL</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Let us clear a little space,<br /> +And make Love a burial-place.</p> +<p class="poetry">He is dead, dear, as you see,<br /> +And he wearies you and me.</p> +<p class="poetry">Growing heavier, day by day,<br /> +Let us bury him, I say.</p> +<p class="poetry">Wings of dead white butterflies,<br /> +These shall shroud him, as he lies</p> +<p class="poetry">In his casket rich and rare,<br /> +Made of finest maiden-hair.</p> +<p class="poetry">With the pollen of the rose<br /> +Let us his white eyelids close.</p> +<p class="poetry">Put the rose thorn in his hand,<br /> +Shorn of leaves—you understand.</p> +<p class="poetry">Let some holy water fall<br /> +On his dead face, tears of gall—</p> +<p class="poetry">As we kneel to him and say,<br /> +“Dreams to dreams,” and turn away.</p> +<p class="poetry">Those gravediggers, Doubt, Distrust,<br /> +They will lower him to the dust.</p> +<p class="poetry">Let us part here with a kiss—<br /> +You go that way, I go this.</p> +<p class="poetry">Since we buried Love to-day<br /> +We will walk a separate way.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem86"></a>“LOVE IS ENOUGH”</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Love is enough. Let us not ask for +gold.<br /> + Wealth breeds false aims, and pride, and +selfishness;<br /> +In those serene, Arcadian days of old<br /> + Men gave no thought to princely homes and dress.<br +/> +The gods who dwelt on fair Olympia’s height<br /> +Lived only for dear love and love’s delight.<br /> + Love is enough.</p> +<p class="poetry">Love is enough. Why should we care for +fame?<br /> + Ambition is a most unpleasant guest:<br /> +It lures us with the glory of a name<br /> + Far from the happy haunts of peace and rest.<br /> +Let us stay here in this secluded place<br /> +Made beautiful by love’s endearing grace!<br /> + Love is enough.</p> +<p class="poetry">Love is enough. Why should we strive for +power?<br /> + It brings men only envy and distrust.<br /> +The poor world’s homage pleases but an hour,<br /> + And earthly honours vanish in the dust.<br /> +The grandest lives are ofttimes desolate;<br /> +Let me be loved, and let who will be great.<br /> + Love is enough.</p> +<p class="poetry">Love is enough. Why should we ask for +more?<br /> + What greater gift have gods vouchsafed to men?<br /> +What better boon of all their precious store<br /> + Than our fond hearts that love and love again?<br /> +Old love may die; new love is just as sweet;<br /> +And life is fair and all the world complete:<br /> + Love is enough!</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem87"></a>LIFE IS A PRIVILEGE</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Life is a privilege. Its youthful days<br +/> +Shine with the radiance of continuous Mays.<br /> +To live, to breathe, to wonder and desire,<br /> +To feed with dreams the heart’s perpetual fire,<br /> +To thrill with virtuous passions, and to glow<br /> +With great ambitions—in one hour to know<br /> +The depths and heights of feeling—God! in truth,<br /> +How beautiful, how beautiful is youth!</p> +<p class="poetry">Life is a privilege. Like some rare +rose<br /> +The mysteries of the human mind unclose.<br /> +What marvels lie in earth, and air, and sea!<br /> +What stores of knowledge wait our opening key!<br /> +What sunny roads of happiness lead out<br /> +Beyond the realms of indolence and doubt!<br /> +And what large pleasures smile upon and bless<br /> +The busy avenues of usefulness!</p> +<p class="poetry">Life is a privilege. Though noontide +fades<br /> +And shadows fall along the winding glades,<br /> +Though joy-blooms wither in the autumn air,<br /> +Yet the sweet scent of sympathy is there.<br /> +Pale sorrow leads us closer to our kind,<br /> +And in the serious hours of life we find<br /> +Depths in the souls of men which lend new worth<br /> +And majesty to this brief span of earth.</p> +<p class="poetry">Life is a privilege. If some sad fate<br +/> +Sends us alone to seek the exit gate,<br /> +If men forsake us and as shadows fall,<br /> +Still does the supreme privilege of all<br /> +Come in that reaching upward of the soul<br /> +To find the welcoming Presence at the goal,<br /> +And in the Knowledge that our feet have trod<br /> +Paths that led from, and must wind back, to God.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem88"></a>INSIGHT</h2> + +<p class="poetry">Sirs, when you pity us, I say<br /> +You waste your pity. Let it stay,<br /> +Well corked and stored upon your shelves,<br /> +Until you need it for yourselves.</p> +<p class="poetry">We do appreciate God’s thought<br /> +In forming you, before He brought<br /> +Us into life. His art was crude,<br /> +But oh! so virile in its rude,</p> +<p class="poetry">Large, elemental strength; and then<br /> +He learned His trade in making men,<br /> +Learned how to mix and mould the clay<br /> +And fashion in a finer way.</p> +<p class="poetry">How fine that skilful way can be<br /> +You need but lift your eyes to see;<br /> +And we are glad God placed you there<br /> +To lift your eyes and find us fair.</p> +<p class="poetry">Apprentice labour though you were,<br /> +He made you great enough to stir<br /> +The best and deepest depths of us,<br /> +And we are glad He made you thus.</p> +<p class="poetry">Aye! we are glad of many things;<br /> +God strung our hearts with such fine strings<br /> +The least breath moves them, and we hear<br /> +Music where silence greets your ear.</p> +<p class="poetry">We suffer so? But women’s souls,<br +/> +Like violet-powder dropped on coals,<br /> +Give forth their best in anguish. Oh<br /> +The subtle secrets that we know</p> +<p class="poetry">Of joy in sorrow, strange delights<br /> +Of ecstasy in pain-filled nights,<br /> +And mysteries of gain in loss<br /> +Known but to Christ upon the cross!</p> +<p class="poetry">Our tears are pitiful to you?<br /> +Look how the heaven-reflecting dew<br /> +Dissolves its life in tears. The sand<br /> +Meanwhile lies hard upon the strand.</p> +<p class="poetry">How could your pity find a place<br /> +For us, the mothers of the race?<br /> +Men may be fathers unaware,<br /> +So poor the title is you wear.</p> +<p class="poetry">But mothers—who that crown adorns<br /> +Knows all its mingled blooms and thorns,<br /> +And she whose feet that pain hath trod<br /> +Hath walked upon the heights with God.</p> +<p class="poetry">No, offer us not pity’s cup.<br /> +There is no looking down or up<br /> +Between us; eye looks straight in eye:<br /> +Born equals, so we live and die.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem89"></a>A WOMAN’S ANSWER</h2> + +<p class="poetry">You call me an angel of love and of light,<br +/> + A being of goodness and heavenly fire,<br /> +Sent out from God’s kingdom to guide you aright,<br /> + In paths where your spirit may mount and aspire,<br +/> +You say that I glow like a star on its course,<br /> +Like a ray from the altar, a spark from the source.</p> +<p class="poetry">Now list to my answer—let all the world +hear it,<br /> + I speak unafraid what I know to be true—<br /> +A pure, faithful love is the creative spirit<br /> + Which make women angels! I live but in you.<br +/> +We are bound soul to soul by life’s holiest laws;<br /> +If I am an angel—why, you are the cause.</p> +<p class="poetry">As my ship skims the sea, I look up from the deck.<br +/> + Fair, firm at the wheel shines Love’s +beautiful form.<br /> +And shall I curse the bark that last night went to wreck<br /> + By the pilot abandoned to darkness and storm?<br /> +My craft is no stauncher, she too had been lost<br /> +Had the wheelman deserted, or slept at his post.</p> +<p class="poetry">I laid down the wealth of my soul at your +feet<br /> + (Some woman does this for some man every day).<br /> +No desperate creature who walks in the street<br /> + Has a wickeder heart than I might have, I say,<br /> +Had you wantonly misused the treasures you won—<br /> +As so many men with heart-riches have done.</p> +<p class="poetry">This fire from God’s altar, this holy +love-flame,<br /> + That burns like sweet incense forever for you,<br /> +Might now be a wild conflagration of shame,<br /> + Had you tortured my heart, or been base or +untrue.<br /> +For angels and devils are cast in one mould,<br /> +Till love guides them upward or downward, I hold.</p> +<p class="poetry">I tell you the women who make fervent wives<br +/> + And sweet tender mothers, had Fate been less +fair,<br /> +Are the women who might have abandoned their lives<br /> + To the madness that springs from and ends in +despair.<br /> +As the fire on the hearth which sheds brightness around,<br /> +Neglected, may level the walls to the ground.</p> +<p class="poetry">The world makes grave errors in judging these +things.<br /> + Great good and great evil are born in one breast:<br +/> +Love horns us and hoofs us, or gives us our wings,<br /> + And the best could be worst, as the worst could be +best.<br /> +You must thank your own worth for what I grew to be,<br /> +For the demon lurked under the angel in me.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="poem90"></a>THE WORLD’S NEED</h2> + +<p class="poetry">So many gods, so many creeds,<br /> + So many paths that wind and wind,<br /> + While just the art of being kind,<br /> +Is all the sad world needs.</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> + +<div class="gapmediumline"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>Printed by Hanell</i>, <i>Watson +& Viney</i>, <i>Ld.</i>, <i>London and Aylesbury</i>.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div style='display:block;margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS OF POWER ***</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0;'>This file should be named 6667-h.htm or 6667-h.zip</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0;'>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in https://www.gutenberg.org/6/6/6/6667/</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law 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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