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diff --git a/6667-0.txt~ b/6667-0.txt~ deleted file mode 100644 index 3a69dfe..0000000 --- a/6667-0.txt~ +++ /dev/null @@ -1,3663 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Poems of Power, by Ella Wheeler Wilcox - -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 -www.gutenberg.org. 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. - -Title: Poems of Power - -Author: Ella Wheeler Wilcox - -Release Date: January 10, 2003 [eBook #6667] -[Most recently updated: May 18, 2021] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: David Price - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS OF POWER *** - - - - - [Picture: Book cover] - - - - - - POEMS OF POWER - - - * * * * * - - BY - ELLA WHEELER WILCOX - - [Picture: Decorative graphic] - - GAY AND HANCOCK, LTD. - 21 BEDFORD ROW - LONDON - - [_All rights reserved_] - - * * * * * - - _Published_ 1903 - _Reprinted_ 1904, 1905, 1906, 1907, 1908 - 1909 (_three times_), 1910 (_four times_), 1911, - 1912 (_twice_), 1913, 1914, 1916, 1917, 1918 - - _N.B._—_The only volumes of my poems issued_ - _with my approval in the British Empire are_ - _published by_ MESSRS. GAY & HANCOCK. - - ELLA WHEELER WILCOX. - - - - -NOTE - - -_The final word in the title of this volume refers to the DIVINE POWER in -every human being_, _the recognition of which is the secret to all -success and happiness_. _It is this idea which many of the verses -endeavour to illustrate_. - - _E. W. W._ - - - - -CONTENTS - - PAGE -The Queen’s last ride 1 -The Meeting of the Centuries 3 -Death has Crowned him a Martyr 7 -Grief 10 -Illusion 12 -Assertion 14 -I Am 16 -Wishing 18 -We two 20 -The Poet’s Theme 22 -Song of the Spirit 25 -Womanhood 27 -Morning Prayer 29 -The Voices of the People 30 -The World grows Better 32 -A Man’s Ideal 34 -The Fire Brigade 36 -The Tides 38 -When the Regiment came back 39 -Woman to Man 41 -The Traveller 43 -The Earth 45 -Now 46 -You and To-day 47 -The Reason 49 -Mission 50 -Repetition 52 -Begin the Day 53 -Words 54 -Fate and I 55 -Attainment 58 -A Plea to Peace 59 -Presumption 61 -High Noon 63 -Thought-magnets 66 -Smiles 67 -The Undiscovered Country 69 -The Universal Route 70 -Unanswered Prayers 72 -Thanksgiving 74 -Contrasts 76 -Thy Ship 77 -Life 79 -A Marine Etching 81 -“Love Thyself Last” 82 -Christmas Fancies 84 -The River 87 -Sorry 89 -Ambition’s trail 92 -Uncontrolled 93 -Will 94 -To an Astrologer 96 -The Tendril’s Fate 98 -The Times 100 -The Question 102 -Sorrow’s Uses 103 -If 104 -Which are you? 106 -The Creed to be 108 -Inspiration 110 -The Wish 112 -Three Friends 113 -You never can tell 115 -Here and now 117 -Unconquered 119 -All that love asks 120 -“Does it pay?” 122 -Sestina 123 -The Optimist 126 -The Pessimist 127 -An Inspiration 128 -Life’s Harmonies 130 -Preparation 131 -Gethsemane 133 -God’s Measure 135 -Noblesse Oblige 136 -Through Tears 137 -What we Need 139 -Plea to Science 141 -Respite 143 -Song 145 -My Ships 147 -Her Love 149 -If 151 -Love’s burial 153 -“Love is enough” 155 -Life is a Privilege 157 -Insight 159 -A Woman’s Answer 162 -The World’s Need 164 - - - - -THE QUEEN’S LAST RIDE - - - (Written on the day of Queen Victoria’s funeral) - - The Queen is taking a drive to-day, - They have hung with purple the carriage-way, - They have dressed with purple the royal track - Where the Queen goes forth and never comes back. - - Let no man labour as she goes by - On her last appearance to mortal eye: - With heads uncovered let all men wait - For the Queen to pass, in her regal state. - - Army and Navy shall lead the way - For that wonderful coach of the Queen’s to-day. - Kings and Princes and Lords of the land - Shall ride behind her, a humble band; - And over the city and over the world - Shall the Flags of all Nations be half-mast-furled, - For the silent lady of royal birth - Who is riding away from the Courts of earth, - Riding away from the world’s unrest - To a mystical goal, on a secret quest. - - Though in royal splendour she drives through town, - Her robes are simple, she wears no crown: - And yet she wears one, for, widowed no more, - She is crowned with the love that has gone before, - And crowned with the love she has left behind - In the hidden depths of each mourner’s mind. - - Bow low your heads—lift your hearts on high— - The Queen in silence is driving by! - - - - -THE MEETING OF THE CENTURIES - - - A curious vision on mine eyes unfurled - In the deep night. I saw, or seemed to see, - Two Centuries meet, and sit down vis-à-vis - Across the great round table of the world: - One with suggested sorrows in his mien, - And on his brow the furrowed lines of thought; - And one whose glad expectant presence brought - A glow and radiance from the realms unseen. - - Hand clasped with hand, in silence for a space - The Centuries sat; the sad old eyes of one - (As grave paternal eyes regard a son) - Gazing upon that other eager face. - And then a voice, as cadenceless and gray - As the sea’s monody in winter time, - Mingled with tones melodious, as the chime - Of bird choirs, singing in the dawns of May. - - THE OLD CENTURY SPEAKS - - By you, Hope stands. With me, Experience walks. - Like a fair jewel in a faded box, - In my tear-rusted heart, sweet Pity lies. - For all the dreams that look forth from your eyes, - And those bright-hued ambitions, which I know - Must fall like leaves and perish, in Time’s snow, - (Even as my soul’s garden stands bereft,) - I give you pity! ’tis the one gift left. - - THE NEW CENTURY - - Nay, nay, good friend! not pity, but Godspeed, - Here in the morning of my life I need. - Counsel, and not condolence; smiles, not tears, - To guide me through the channels of the years. - Oh, I am blinded by the blaze of light - That shines upon me from the Infinite. - Blurred is my vision by the close approach - To unseen shores, whereon the times encroach. - - THE OLD CENTURY - - Illusion, all illusion. List and hear - The Godless cannons, booming far and near. - Flaunting the flag of Unbelief, with Greed - For pilot, lo! the pirate age in speed - Bears on to ruin. War’s most hideous crimes - Besmirch the record of these modern times. - Degenerate is the world I leave to you,— - My happiest speech to earth will be—adieu. - - THE NEW CENTURY - - You speak as one too weary to be just. - I hear the guns—I see the greed and lust. - The death throes of a giant evil fill - The air with riot and confusion. Ill - Ofttimes makes fallow ground for Good; and Wrong - Builds Right’s foundation, when it grows too strong. - Pregnant with promise is the hour, and grand - The trust you leave in my all-willing hand. - - THE OLD CENTURY - - As one who throws a flickering taper’s ray - To light departing feet, my shadowed way - You brighten with your faith. Faith makes the man - Alas, that my poor foolish age outran - Its early trust in God! The death of art - And progress follows, when the world’s hard heart - Casts out religion. ’Tis the human brain - Men worship now, and heaven, to them, means—gain. - - THE NEW CENTURY - - Faith is not dead, tho’ priest and creed may pass, - For thought has leavened the whole unthinking mass, - And man looks now to find the God within. - We shall talk more of love, and less of sin, - In this new era. We are drawing near - Unatlassed boundaries of a larger sphere. - With awe, I wait, till Science leads us on, - Into the full effulgence of its dawn. - - - - -DEATH HAS CROWNED HIM A MARTYR - - -(Written on the day of President McKinley’s death) - - In the midst of sunny waters, lo! the mighty Ship of State - Staggers, bruised and torn and wounded by a derelict of fate, - One that drifted from its moorings in the anchorage of hate. - - On the deck our noble Pilot, in the glory of his prime, - Lies in woe-impelling silence, dead before his hour or time, - Victim of a mind self-centred in a Godless fool of crime. - - One of earth’s dissension-breeders, one of Hate’s unreasoning tools, - In the annals of the ages, when the world’s hot anger cools, - He who sought for Crime’s distinction shall be known as Chief of - Fools. - - In the annals of the ages, he who had no thought of fame - (Keeping on the path of duty, caring not for praise or blame), - Close beside the deathless Lincoln, writ in light, will shine his - name. - - Youth proclaimed him as a hero; time, a statesman; love, a man; - Death has crowned him as a martyr,—so from goal to goal he ran, - Knowing all the sum of glory that a human life may span. - - He was chosen by the people; not an accident of birth - Made him ruler of a nation, but his own intrinsic worth. - Fools may govern over kingdoms—not republics of the earth. - - He has raised the lovers’ standard by his loyalty and faith, - He has shown how virile manhood may keep free from scandal’s breath. - He has gazed, with trust unshaken, in the awful eyes of Death. - - In the mighty march of progress he has sought to do his best. - Let his enemies be silent, as we lay him down to rest, - And may God assuage the anguish of one suffering woman’s breast. - - - - -GRIEF - - - As the funeral train with its honoured dead - On its mournful way went sweeping, - While a sorrowful nation bowed its head - And the whole world joined in weeping, - I thought, as I looked on the solemn sight, - Of the one fond heart despairing, - And I said to myself, as in truth I might, - “How sad must be this _sharing_.” - - To share the living with even Fame, - For a heart that is only human, - Is hard, when Glory asserts her claim - Like a bold, insistent woman; - Yet a great, grand passion can put aside - Or stay each selfish emotion, - And watch, with a pleasure that springs from pride, - Its rival—the world’s devotion. - - But Death should render to love its own, - And my heart bowed down and sorrowed - For the stricken woman who wept alone - While even her _dead_ was borrowed; - Borrowed from her, the bride—the wife— - For the world’s last martial honour, - As she sat in the gloom of her darkened life, - With her widow’s grief fresh upon her. - - He had shed the glory of Love and Fame - In a golden halo about her; - She had shared his triumphs and worn his name: - But, alas! he had died without her. - He had wandered in many a distant realm, - And never had left her behind him, - But now, with a spectral shape at the helm, - He had sailed where she could not find him. - - It was only a thought, that came that day - In the midst of the muffled drumming - And funeral music and sad display, - That I knew was right and becoming - Only a thought as the mourning train - Moved, column after column, - Bearing the dead to the burial plain - With a reverence grand as solemn. - - - - -ILLUSION - - - God and I in space alone - And nobody else in view. - “And where are the people, O Lord,” I said, - “The earth below, and the sky o’er head, - And the dead whom once I knew?” - - “That was a dream,” God smiled and said— - “A dream that seemed to be true. - There were no people, living or dead, - There was no earth, and no sky o’erhead; - There was only Myself—in you.” - - “Why do I feel no fear,” I asked, - “Meeting You here this way? - For I have sinned I know full well? - And is there heaven, and is there hell, - And is this the judgment day?” - - “Say, those were but dreams,” the Great God said, - “Dreams, that have ceased to be. - There are no such things as fear or sin, - There is no you—you never have been— - There is nothing at all but _Me_.” - - - - -ASSERTION - - - I am serenity. Though passions beat - Like mighty billows on my helpless heart, - I know beyond them lies the perfect sweet - Serenity, which patience can impart. - And when wild tempests in my bosom rage, - “Peace, peace,” I cry, “it is my heritage.” - - I am good health. Though fevers rack my brain - And rude disorders mutilate my strength, - A perfect restoration after pain, - I know shall be my recompense at length. - And so through grievous day and sleepless night, - “Health, health,” I cry, “it is my own by right.” - - I am success. Though hungry, cold, ill-clad, - I wander for awhile, I smile and say, - “It is but for a time—I shall be glad - To-morrow, for good fortune comes my way. - God is my father, He has wealth untold, - His wealth is mine, health, happiness, and gold.” - - - - -I AM - - - I know not whence I came, - I know not whither I go; - But the fact stands clear that I am here - In this world of pleasure and woe. - And out of the mist and murk - Another truth shines plain— - It is my power each day and hour - To add to its joy or its pain. - - I know that the earth exists, - It is none of my business why; - I cannot find out what it’s all about, - I would but waste time to try. - My life is a brief, brief thing, - I am here for a little space, - And while I stay I would like, if I may, - To brighten and better the place. - - The trouble, I think, with us all - Is the lack of a high conceit. - If each man thought he was sent to this spot - To make it a bit more sweet, - How soon we could gladden the world, - How easily right all wrong, - If nobody shirked, and each one worked - To help his fellows along! - - Cease wondering why you came— - Stop looking for faults and flaws; - Rise up to-day in your pride and say, - “I am part of the First Great Cause! - However full the world, - There is room for an earnest man. - It had need of me, or I would not be— - I am here to strengthen the plan.” - - - - -WISHING - - - Do you wish the world were better? - Let me tell you what to do: - Set a watch upon your actions, - Keep them always straight and true; - Rid your mind of selfish motives; - Let your thoughts be clean and high. - You can make a little Eden - Of the sphere you occupy. - - Do you wish the world were wiser? - Well, suppose you make a start, - By accumulating wisdom - In the scrapbook of your heart: - Do not waste one page on folly; - Live to learn, and learn to live. - If you want to give men knowledge - You must get it, ere you give. - - Do you wish the world were happy? - Then remember day by day - Just to scatter seeds of kindness - As you pass along the way; - For the pleasures of the many - May be ofttimes traced to one, - As the hand that plants an acorn - Shelters armies from the sun. - - - - -WE TWO - - - We two make home of any place we go; - We two find joy in any kind of weather; - Or if the earth is clothed in bloom or snow, - If summer days invite, or bleak winds blow, - What matters it if we two are together? - We two, we two, we make our world, our weather. - - We two make banquets of the plainest fare; - In every cup we find the thrill of pleasure; - We hide with wreaths the furrowed brow of care, - And win to smiles the set lips of despair. - For us life always moves with lilting measure; - We two, we two, we make our world, our pleasure. - - We two find youth renewed with every dawn; - Each day holds something of an unknown glory. - We waste no thought on grief or pleasure gone; - Tricked out like hope, time leads us on and on, - And thrums upon his harp new song or story. - We two, we two, we find the paths of glory. - - We two make heaven here on this little earth; - We do not need to wait for realms eternal. - We know the use of tears, know sorrow’s worth, - And pain for us is always love’s rebirth. - Our paths lead closely by the paths supernal; - We two, we two, we live in love eternal. - - - - -THE POET’S THEME - - - What is the explanation of the strange silence of American poets - concerning American triumphs on sea and land? - - _Literary Digest_. - - Why should the poet of these pregnant times - Be asked to sing of war’s unholy crimes? - - To laud and eulogize the trade which thrives - On horrid holocausts of human lives? - - Man was a fighting beast when earth was young, - And war the only theme when Homer sung. - - ’Twixt might and might the equal contest lay, - Not so the battles of our modern day. - - Too often now the conquering hero struts - A Gulliver among the Liliputs. - - Success no longer rests on skill or fate, - But on the movements of a syndicate. - - Of old men fought and deemed it right and just. - To-day the warrior fights because he must, - - And in his secret soul feels shame because - He desecrates the higher manhood’s laws - - Oh! there are worthier themes for poet’s pen - In this great hour, than bloody deeds of men - - Or triumphs of one hero (though he be - Deserving song for his humility): - - The rights of many—not the worth of one; - The coming issues—not the battle done; - - The awful opulence, and awful need; - The rise of brotherhood—the fall of greed, - - The soul of man replete with God’s own force, - The call “to heights,” and not the cry “to horse,”— - - Are there not better themes in this great age - For pen of poet, or for voice of sage - - Than those old tales of killing? Song is dumb - Only that greater song in time may come. - - When comes the bard, he whom the world waits for, - He will not sing of War. - - - - -SONG OF THE SPIRIT - - - All the aim of life is just - Getting back to God. - Spirit casting off its dust, - Getting back to God. - Every grief we have to bear - Disappointment, cross, despair - Each is but another stair - Climbing back to God. - - Step by step and mile by mile— - Getting back to God; - Nothing else is worth the while— - Getting back to God. - Light and shadow fill each day - Joys and sorrows pass away, - Smile at all, and smiling, say, - Getting back to God. - - Do not wear a mournful face - Getting back to God; - Scatter sunshine on the place - Going back to God; - Take what pleasure you can find, - But where’er your paths may wind. - Keep the purpose well in mind,— - Getting back to God. - - - - -WOMANHOOD - - - She must be honest, both in thought and deed, - Of generous impulse, and above all greed; - Not seeking praise, or place, or power, or pelf, - But life’s best blessings for her higher self, - Which means the best for all. - She must have faith, - To make good friends of Trouble, Pain, and Death, - And understand their message. - She should be - As redolent with tender sympathy - As is a rose with fragrance. - Cheerfulness - Should be her mantle, even though her dress - May be of Sorrow’s weaving. - On her face - A loyal nature leaves its seal of grace, - And chastity is in her atmosphere. - Not that chill chastity which seems austere - (Like untrod snow-peaks, lovely to behold - Till once attained—then barren, loveless, cold); - But the white flame that feeds upon the soul - And lights the pathway to a peaceful goal. - A sense of humour, and a touch of mirth, - To brighten up the shadowy spots of earth; - And pride that passes evil—choosing good. - All these unite in perfect womanhood. - - - - -MORNING PRAYER - - - Let me to-day do something that shall take - A little sadness from the world’s vast store, - And may I be so favoured as to make - Of joy’s too scanty sum a little more - Let me not hurt, by any selfish deed - Or thoughtless word, the heart of foe or friend; - Nor would I pass, unseeing, worthy need, - Or sin by silence when I should defend. - However meagre be my worldly wealth, - Let me give something that shall aid my kind— - A word of courage, or a thought of health, - Dropped as I pass for troubled hearts to find. - Let me to-night look back across the span - ’Twixt dawn and dark, and to my conscience say— - Because of some good act to beast or man— - “The world is better that I lived to-day.” - - - - -THE VOICES OF THE PEOPLE - - - Oh! I hear the people calling through the day time and the night time, - They are calling, they are crying for the coming of the right time. - It behooves you, men and women, it behooves you to be heeding, - For there lurks a note of menace underneath their plaintive pleading. - - Let the land usurpers listen, let the greedy-hearted ponder, - On the meaning of the murmur, rising here and swelling yonder, - Swelling louder, waxing stronger, like a storm-fed stream that courses - Through the valleys, down abysses, growing, gaining with new forces. - - Day by day the river widens, that great river of opinion, - And its torrent beats and plunges at the base of greed’s dominion. - Though you dam it by oppression and fling golden bridges o’er it, - Yet the day and hour advances when in fright you’ll flee before it. - - Yes, I hear the people calling, through the night time and the day - time, - Wretched toilers in life’s autumn, weary young ones in life’s May - time— - They are crying, they are calling for their share of work and - pleasure; - You are heaping high your coffers while you give them scanty measure,— - You have stolen God’s wide acres, just to glut your swollen purses— - Oh! restore them to His children ere their pleading turns to curses. - - - - -THE WORLD GROWS BETTER - - - Oh! the earth is full of sinning - And of trouble and of woe, - But the devil makes an inning - Every time we say it’s so. - And the way to set him scowling, - And to put him back a pace, - Is to stop this stupid growling, - And to look things in the face. - - If you glance at history’s pages, - In all lands and eras known, - You will find the buried ages - Far more wicked than our own. - As you scan each word and letter. - You will realise it more, - That the world to-day is better - Than it ever was before. - - There is much that needs amending - In the present time, no doubt; - There is right that needs amending, - There is wrong needs crushing out. - And we hear the groans and curses - Of the poor who starve and die, - While the men with swollen purses - In the place of hearts go by. - - But in spite of all the trouble - That obscures the sun to-day, - Just remember it was double - In the ages passed away. - And those wrongs shall all be righted, - Good shall dominate the land, - For the darkness now is lighted - By the torch in Science’s hand. - - Forth from little motes in Chaos, - We have come to what we are; - And no evil force can stay us— - We shall mount from star to star, - We shall break each bond and fetter - That has bound us heretofore; - And the earth is surely better - Than it ever was before. - - - - -A MAN’S IDEAL - - - A lovely little keeper of the home, - Absorbed in menu books, yet erudite - When I need counsel; quick at repartee - And slow to anger. Modest as a flower, - Yet scintillant and radiant as a star. - Unmercenary in her mould of mind, - While opulent and dainty in her tastes. - A nature generous and free, albeit - The incarnation of economy. - She must be chaste as proud Diana was, - Yet warm as Venus. To all others cold - As some white glacier glittering in the sun; - To me as ardent as the sensuous rose - That yields its sweetness to the burrowing bee - All ignorant of evil in the world, - And innocent as any cloistered nun, - Yet wise as Phryne in the arts of love - When I come thirsting to her nectared lips. - Good as the best, and tempting as the worst, - A saint, a siren, and a paradox. - - - - -THE FIRE BRIGADE - - - Hark! high o’er the rattle and clamour and clatter - Of traffic-filled streets, do you hear that loud noise? - And pushing and rushing to see what’s the matter, - Like herds of wild cattle, go pell-mell the boys. - - There’s a fire in the city! the engines are coming! - The bold bells are clanging, “Make way in the street!” - The wheels of the hose-cart are spinning and humming - In time to the music of galloping feet. - - Make way there! make way there! the horses are flying, - The sparks from their swift hoofs shoot higher and higher, - The crowds are increasing—the gamins are crying: - “Hooray, boys!” “Hooray, boys!” “Come on to the fire!” - - With clanging and banging and clatter and rattle - The long ladders follow the engine and hose. - The men are all ready to dash into battle; - But will they come out again? God only knows. - - At windows and doorways crowd questioning faces; - There’s something about it that quickens one’s breath. - How proudly the brave fellows sit in their places— - And speed to the conflict that may be their death! - - Still faster and faster and faster and faster - The grand horses thunder and leap on their way - The red foe is yonder, and may prove the master; - Turn out there, bold traffic—turn out there, I say! - - For once the loud truckman knows oaths will not matter - And reins in his horses and yields to his fate. - The engines are coming! let pleasure-crowds scatter, - Let street car and truckman and mail waggon wait. - - They speed like a comet—they pass in a minute; - The boys follow on like a tail to a kite; - The commonplace street has but traffic now in it— - The great fire engines have swept out of sight. - - - - -THE TIDES - - - Be careful what rubbish you toss in the tide. - On outgoing billows it drifts from your sight, - But back on the incoming waves it may ride - And land at your threshold again before night. - Be careful what rubbish you toss in the tide. - - Be careful what follies you toss in life’s sea. - On bright dancing billows they drift far away, - But back on the Nemesis tides they may be - Thrown down at your threshold an unwelcome day - Be careful what follies you toss in youth’s sea. - - - - -WHEN THE REGIMENT CAME BACK - - - All the uniforms were blue, all the swords were bright and new, - When the regiment went marching down the street, - All the men were hale and strong as they proudly moved along, - Through the cheers that drowned the music of their feet. - Oh the music of the feet keeping time to drums that beat, - Oh the splendour and the glitter of the sight, - As with swords and rifles new and in uniforms of blue - The regiment went marching to the fight! - - When the regiment came back all the guns and swords were black - And the uniforms had faded out to gray, - And the faces of the men who marched through that street again - Seemed like faces of the dead who lose their way. - For the dead who lose their way cannot look more wan and gray. - Oh the sorrow and the pity of the sight, - Oh the weary lagging feet out of step with drums that beat, - As the regiment comes marching from the fight. - - - - -WOMAN TO MAN - - - Woman is man’s enemy, rival, and competitor.—JOHN J. INGALLS. - - You do but jest, sir, and you jest not well, - How could the hand be enemy of the arm, - Or seed and sod be rivals! How could light - Feel jealousy of heat, plant of the leaf, - Or competition dwell ’twixt lip and smile? - Are we not part and parcel of yourselves? - Like strands in one great braid we entertwine - And make the perfect whole. You could not be, - Unless we gave you birth; we are the soil - From which you sprang, yet sterile were that soil - Save as you planted. (Though in the Book we read - One woman bore a child with no man’s aid, - We find no record of a man-child born - Without the aid of woman! Fatherhood - Is but a small achievement at the best, - While motherhood comprises heaven and hell.) - This ever-growing argument of sex - Is most unseemly, and devoid of sense. - Why waste more time in controversy, when - There is not time enough for all of love, - Our rightful occupation in this life? - Why prate of our defects, of where we fail, - When just the story of our worth would need - Eternity for telling, and our best - Development comes ever through your praise, - As through our praise you reach your highest self? - Oh! had you not been miser of your praise - And let our virtues be their own reward, - The old-established order of the world - Would never have been changed. Small blame is ours - For this unsexing of ourselves, and worse. - Effeminising of the male. We were - Content, sir, till you starved us, heart and brain. - All we have done, or wise, or otherwise, - Traced to the root, was done for love of you. - Let us taboo all vain comparisons, - And go forth as God meant us, hand in hand, - Companions, mates, and comrades evermore; - Two parts of one divinely ordained whole. - - - - -THE TRAVELLER - - -Reply to Rudyard Kipling’s “He travels the fastest who travels alone.” - - Who travels alone with his eyes on the heights, - Though he laughs in the day time oft weeps in the nights; - - For courage goes down at the set of the sun, - When the toil of the journey is all borne by one. - - He speeds but to grief though full gaily he ride - Who travels alone without love at his side. - - Who travels alone without lover or friend - But hurries from nothing, to naught at the end. - - Though great be his winnings and high be his goal, - He is bankrupt in wisdom and beggared in soul. - - Life’s one gift of value to him is denied - Who travels alone without love at his side. - - It is easy enough in this world to make haste - If one live for that purpose—but think of the waste; - - For life is a poem to leisurely read, - And the joy of the journey lies not in its speed. - - Oh! vain his achievement and petty his pride - Who travels alone without love at his side. - - - - -THE EARTH - - - The earth is yours and mine, - Our God’s bequest. - That testament divine - Who dare contest? - - Usurpers of the earth, - We claim our share. - We are of royal birth. - Beware! beware! - - Unloose the hand of greed - From God’s fair land, - We claim but what we need— - That, we demand. - - - - -NOW - - - I leave with God to-morrow’s where and how, - And do concern myself but with the Now, - That little word, though half the future’s length, - Well used, holds twice its meaning and its strength. - - Like one blindfolded groping out his way, - I will not try to touch beyond to-day. - Since all the future is concealed from sight - I need but strive to make the next step right. - - That done, the next, and so on, till I find - Perchance some day I am no longer blind, - And looking up, behold a radiant Friend - Who says, “Rest, now, for you have reached the end.” - - - - -YOU AND TO-DAY - - - With every rising of the sun - Think of your life as just begun. - - The past has shrived and buried deep - All yesterdays—there let them sleep, - - Nor seek to summon back one ghost - Of that innumerable host. - - Concern yourself with but to-day; - Woo it and teach it to obey - - Your wish and will. Since time began - To-day has been the friend of man. - - But in his blindness and his sorrow - He looks to yesterday and to-morrow. - - You and to-day! a soul sublime - And the great pregnant hour of time. - - With God between to bind the train, - Go forth, I say—attain—attain. - - - - -THE REASON - - - Do you know what moves the tides - As they swing from low to high? - ’Tis the love, love, love, - Of the moon within the sky. - Oh! they follow where she guides, - Do the faithful-hearted tides. - - Do you know what moves the earth - Out of winter into spring? - ’Tis the love, love, love, - Of the sun, the mighty king. - Oh the rapture that finds birth - In the kiss of sun and earth! - - Do you know what makes sweet songs - Ring for me above earth’s strife? - ’Tis the love, love, love, - That you bring into my life, - Oh the glory of the songs - In the heart where love belongs! - - - - -MISSION - - - If you are sighing for a lofty work, - If great ambitions dominate your mind, - Just watch yourself and see you do not shirk - The common little ways of being kind. - - If you are dreaming of a future goal, - When, crowned with glory, men shall own your power, - Be careful that you let no struggling soul - Go by unaided in the present hour. - - If you are moved to pity for the earth, - And long to aid it, do not look so high, - You pass some poor, dumb creature faint with thirst— - All life is equal in the eternal eye. - - If you would help to make the wrong things right, - Begin at home: there lies a lifetime’s toil. - Weed your own garden fair for all men’s sight, - Before you plan to till another’s soil. - - God chooses His own leaders in the world, - And from the rest He asks but willing hands. - As mighty mountains into place are hurled, - While patient tides may only shape the sands. - - - - -REPETITION - - - Over and over and over - These truths I will weave in song— - That God’s great plan needs you and me, - That will is greater than destiny, - And that love moves the world along. - - However mankind may doubt it, - It shall listen and hear my creed— - That God may ever be found within, - That the worship of self is the only sin, - And the only devil is greed. - - Over and over and over - These truths I will say and sing, - That love is mightier far than hate, - That a man’s own thought is a man’s own fate, - And that life is a goodly thing. - - - - -BEGIN THE DAY - - - Begin each morning with a talk to God, - And ask for your divine inheritance - Of usefulness, contentment, and success. - Resign all fear, all doubt, and all despair. - The stars doubt not, and they are undismayed, - Though whirled through space for countless centuries, - And told not why or wherefore: and the sea - With everlasting ebb and flow obeys, - And leaves the purpose with the unseen Cause. - The star sheds radiance on a million worlds, - The sea is prodigal with waves, and yet - No lustre from the star is lost, and not - One drop is missing from the ocean tides. - Oh! brother to the star and sea, know all - God’s opulence is held in trust for those - Who wait serenely and who work in faith. - - - - -WORDS - - - Words are great forces in the realm of life: - Be careful of their use. Who talks of hate, - Of poverty, of sickness, but sets rife - These very elements to mar his fate. - - When love, health, happiness, and plenty hear - Their names repeated over day by day, - They wing their way like answering fairies near, - Then nestle down within our homes to stay. - - Who talks of evil conjures into shape - The formless thing and gives it life and scope. - This is the law: then let no word escape - That does not breathe of everlasting hope. - - - - -FATE AND I - - - Wise men tell me thou, O Fate, - Art invincible and great. - - Well, I own thy prowess; still - Dare I flout thee with my will - - Thou canst shatter in a span - All the earthly pride of man. - - Outward things thou canst control; - But stand back—I rule my soul! - - Death? ’Tis such a little thing— - Scarcely worth the mentioning. - - What has death to do with me, - Save to set my spirit free? - - Something in me dwells, O Fate, - That can rise and dominate - - Loss, and sorrow, and disaster,— - How, then, Fate, art thou my master? - - In the great primeval morn - My immortal will was born, - - Part of that stupendous Cause - Which conceived the Solar Laws, - - Lit the suns and filled the seas, - Royalest of pedigrees. - - That great Cause was Love, the Source - Who most loves has most of Force. - - He who harbours Hate one hour - Saps the soul of Peace and Power. - - He who will not hate his foe - Need not dread life’s hardest blow. - - In the realm of brotherhood - Wishing no man aught but good, - - Naught but good can come to me— - This is Love’s supreme decree. - - Since I bar my door to Hate, - What have I to fear, O Fate? - - Since I fear not—Fate I vow, - I the ruler am, not thou! - - - - -ATTAINMENT - - - Use all your hidden forces. Do not miss - The purpose of this life, and do not wait - For circumstance to mould or change your fate; - In your own self lies Destiny. Let this - Vast truth cast out all fear, all prejudice, - All hesitation. Know that you are great, - Great with divinity. So dominate - Environment, and enter into bliss. - Love largely and hate nothing. Hold no aim - That does not chord with universal good. - Hear what the voices of the Silence say— - All joys are yours if you put forth your claim. - Once let the spiritual laws be understood, - Material things must answer and obey. - - - - -A PLEA TO PEACE - - - When mighty issues loom before us, all - The petty great men of the day seem small, - Like pigmies standing in a blaze of light - Before some grim majestic mountain-height. - War, with its bloody and impartial hand, - Reveals the hidden weakness of a land, - Uncrowns the heroes trusting Peace has made - Of men whose honour is a thing of trade, - And turns the searchlight full on many a place - Where proud conventions long have masked disgrace. - O lovely Peace! as thou art fair be wise. - Demand great men, and great men shall arise - To do thy bidding. Even as warriors come, - Swift at the call of bugle and of drum, - So at the voice of Peace, imperative - As bugle’s call, shall heroes spring to live - For country and for thee. In every land, - In every age, men are what times demand. - Demand the best, O Peace, and teach thy sons - They need not rush in front of death-charged guns - With murder in their hearts to prove their worth. - The grandest heroes who have graced the earth - Were love-filled souls who did not seek the fray, - But chose the safe, hard, high, and lonely way - Of selfless labour for a suffering world. - Beneath our glorious flag again unfurled - In victory such heroes wait to be - Called into bloodless action, Peace, by thee. - Be thou insistent in thy stern demand, - And wise, great men shall rise up in the land. - - - - -PRESUMPTION - - - Whenever I am prone to doubt or wonder— - I check myself, and say, “That mighty One - Who made the solar system cannot blunder— - And for the best all things are being done.” - Who set the stars on their eternal courses - Has fashioned this strange earth by some sure plan. - Bow low, bow low to those majestic forces, - Nor dare to doubt their wisdom, puny man. - - You cannot put one little star in motion, - You cannot shape one single forest leaf, - Nor fling a mountain up, nor sink an ocean, - Presumptuous pigmy, large with unbelief. - You cannot bring one dawn of regal splendour, - Nor bid the day to shadowy twilight fall, - Nor send the pale moon forth with radiance tender— - And dare you doubt the One who has done all? - - “So much is wrong, there is such pain—such sinning.” - Yet look again—behold how much is right! - And He who formed the world from its beginning - Knows how to guide it upward to the light. - Your task, O man, is not to carp and cavil - At God’s achievements, but with purpose strong - To cling to good, and turn away from evil. - That is the way to help the world along. - - - - -HIGH NOON - - - Time’s finger on the dial of my life - Points to high noon! and yet the half-spent day - Leaves less than half remaining, for the dark, - Bleak shadows of the grave engulf the end. - To those who burn the candle to the stick, - The sputtering socket yields but little light. - Long life is sadder than an early death. - We cannot count on ravelled threads of age - Whereof to weave a fabric. We must use - The warp and woof the ready present yields - And toil while daylight lasts. When I bethink - How brief the past, the future, still more brief - Calls on to action, action! Not for me - Is time for retrospection or for dreams, - Not time for self-laudation or remorse. - Have I done nobly? Then I must not let - Dead yesterday unborn to-morrow shame. - Have I done wrong? Well, let the bitter taste - Of fruit that turned to ashes on my lip - Be my reminder in temptation’s hour, - And keep me silent when I would condemn. - Sometimes it takes the acid of a sin - To cleanse the clouded windows of our souls - So pity may shine through them. - - Looking back, - My faults and errors seem like stepping-stones - That led the way to knowledge of the truth - And made me value virtue; sorrows shine - In rainbow colours o’er the gulf of years, - Where lie forgotten pleasures. - - Looking forth, - Out to the western sky still bright with noon, - I feel well spurred and booted for the strife - That ends not till Nirvana is attained. - - Battling with fate, with men, and with myself, - Up the steep summit of my life’s forenoon, - Three things I learned, three things of precious worth, - To guide and help me down the western slope. - I have learned how to pray, and toil, and save: - To pray for courage to receive what comes, - Knowing what comes to be divinely sent; - To toil for universal good, since thus - And only thus can good come unto me; - To save, by giving whatsoe’er I have - To those who have not—this alone is gain. - - - - -THOUGHT-MAGNETS - - - With each strong thought, with every earnest longing - For aught thou deemest needful to thy soul, - Invisible vast forces are set thronging - Between thee and that goal - - ’Tis only when some hidden weakness alters - And changes thy desire, or makes it less, - That this mysterious army ever falters - Or stops short of success. - - Thought is a magnet; and the longed-for pleasure, - Or boon, or aim, or object, is the steel; - And its attainment hangs but on the measure - Of what thy soul can feel. - - - - -SMILES - - - Smile a little, smile a little, - As you go along, - Not alone when life is pleasant, - But when things go wrong. - Care delights to see you frowning, - Loves to hear you sigh; - Turn a smiling face upon her— - Quick the dame will fly. - - Smile a little, smile a little, - All along the road; - Every life must have its burden, - Every heart its load. - Why sit down in gloom and darkness - With your grief to sup? - As you drink Fate’s bitter tonic, - Smile across the cup. - - Smile upon the troubled pilgrims - Whom you pass and meet; - Frowns are thorns, and smiles are blossoms - Oft for weary feet. - Do not make the way seem harder - By a sullen face; - Smile a little, smile a little, - Brighten up the place. - - Smile upon your undone labour; - Not for one who grieves - O’er his task waits wealth or glory; - He who smiles achieves. - Though you meet with loss and sorrow - In the passing years, - Smile a little, smile a little, - Even through your tears. - - - - -THE UNDISCOVERED COUNTRY - - - Man has explored all countries and all lands, - And made his own the secrets of each clime. - Now, ere the world has fully reached its prime, - The oval earth lies compassed with steel bands, - The seas are slaves to ships that touch all strands, - And even the haughty elements, sublime - And bold, yield him their secrets for all time, - And speed like lackeys forth at his commands. - - Still, though he search from shore to distant shore, - And no strange realms, no unlocated plains - Are left for his attainment and control, - Yet is there one more kingdom to explore. - Go, know thyself, O man! there yet remains - The undiscovered country of thy soul! - - - - -THE UNIVERSAL ROUTE - - - As we journey along, with a laugh and a song, - We see, on youth’s flower-decked slope, - Like a beacon of light, shining fair on the sight, - The beautiful Station of Hope. - - But the wheels of old Time roll along as we climb, - And our youth speeds away on the years; - And with hearts that are numb with life’s sorrows we come - To the mist-covered Station of Tears. - - Still onward we pass, where the milestones, alas! - Are the tombs of our dead, to the West, - Where glitters and gleams, in the dying sunbeams, - The sweet, silent Station of Rest. - - All rest is but change, and no grave can estrange - The soul from its Parent above; - And, scorning the rod, it soars back to its God, - To the limitless City of Love. - - - - -UNANSWERED PRAYERS - - - Like some schoolmaster, kind in being stern, - Who hears the children crying o’er their slates - And calling, “Help me, master!” yet helps not, - Since in his silence and refusal lies - Their self-development, so God abides - Unheeding many prayers. He is not deaf - To any cry sent up from earnest hearts; - He hears and strengthens when He must deny. - He sees us weeping over life’s hard sums; - But should He give the key and dry our tears, - What would it profit us when school were done - And not one lesson mastered? - - What a world - Were this if all our prayers were answered. Not - In famed Pandora’s box were such vast ills - As lie in human hearts. Should our desires, - Voiced one by one in prayer, ascend to God - And come back as events shaped to our wish, - What chaos would result! - - In my fierce youth - I sighed out breath enough to move a fleet, - Voicing wild prayers to heaven for fancied boons - Which were denied; and that denial bends - My knee to prayers of gratitude each day - Of my maturer years. Yet from those prayers - I rose alway regirded for the strife - And conscious of new strength. Pray on, sad heart, - That which thou pleadest for may not be given, - But in the lofty altitude where souls - Who supplicate God’s grace are lifted, there - Thou shalt find help to bear thy daily lot - Which is not elsewhere found. - - - - -THANKSGIVING - - - We walk on starry fields of white - And do not see the daisies, - For blessings common in our sight - We rarely offer praises. - We sigh for some supreme delight - To crown our lives with splendour, - And quite ignore our daily store - Of pleasures sweet and tender. - - Our cares are bold and push their way - Upon our thought and feeling; - They hang about us all the day, - Our time from pleasure stealing. - So unobtrusive many a joy - We pass by and forget it, - But worry strives to own our lives, - And conquers if we let it. - - There’s not a day in all the year - But holds some hidden pleasure, - And, looking back, joys oft appear - To brim the past’s wide measure. - But blessings are like friends, I hold, - Who love and labour near us. - We ought to raise our notes of praise - While living hearts can hear us. - - Full many a blessing wears the guise - Of worry or of trouble; - Far-seeing is the soul, and wise, - Who knows the mask is double. - But he who has the faith and strength - To thank his God for sorrow - Has found a joy without alloy - To gladden every morrow. - - We ought to make the moments notes - Of happy, glad Thanksgiving; - The hours and days a silent phrase - Of music we are living. - And so the theme should swell and grow - As weeks and months pass o’er us, - And rise sublime at this good time, - A grand Thanksgiving chorus. - - - - -CONTRASTS - - - I see the tall church steeples— - They reach so far, so far; - But the eyes of my heart see the world’s great mart - Where the starving people are. - - I hear the church bells ringing - Their chimes on the morning air; - But my soul’s sad ear is hurt to hear - The poor man’s cry of despair. - - Thicker and thicker the churches, - Nearer and nearer the sky— - But alack for their creeds while the poor man’s needs - Grow deeper as years roll by! - - - - -THY SHIP - - - Hadst thou a ship, in whose vast hold lay stored - The priceless riches of all climes and lands, - Say, wouldst thou let it float upon the seas - Unpiloted, of fickle winds the sport, - And of wild waves and hidden rocks the prey? - - Thine is that ship; and in its depths concealed - Lies all the wealth of this vast universe— - Yea, lies some part of God’s omnipotence, - The legacy divine of every soul. - Thy will, O man, thy will is that great ship, - And yet behold it drifting here and there— - One moment lying motionless in port, - Then on high seas by sudden impulse flung, - Then drying on the sands, and yet again - Sent forth on idle quests to no-man’s land - To carry nothing and to nothing bring; - Till, worn and fretted by the aimless strife - And buffeted by vacillating winds, - It founders on a rock, or springs a leak, - With all its unused treasures in the hold. - - Go save thy ship, thou sluggard; take the wheel - And steer to knowledge, glory, and success. - Great mariners have made the pathway plain - For thee to follow; hold thou to the course - Of Concentration Channel, and all things - Shall come in answer to thy swerveless wish - As comes the needle to the magnet’s call, - Or sunlight to the prisoned blade of grass - That yearns all winter for the kiss of spring. - - - - -LIFE - - - All in the dark we grope along, - And if we go amiss - We learn at least which path is wrong, - And there is gain in this. - - We do not always win the race - By only running right; - We have to tread the mountain’s base - Before we reach its height. - - The Christs alone no errors made; - So often had they trod - The paths that lead through light and shade, - They had become as God. - - As Krishna, Buddha, Christ again, - They passed along the way, - And left those mighty truths which men - But dimly grasp to-day. - - But he who loves himself the last - And knows the use of pain, - Though strewn with errors all his past, - He surely shall attain. - - Some souls there are that needs must taste - Of wrong, ere choosing right; - We should not call those years a waste - Which led us to the light. - - - - -A MARINE ETCHING - - - A yacht from its harbour ropes pulled free, - And leaped like a steed o’er the race-track blue, - Then up behind her the dust of the sea, - A gray fog, drifted, and hid her from view. - - - - -“LOVE THYSELF LAST” - - - Love thyself last. Look near, behold thy duty - To those who walk beside thee down life’s road. - Make glad their days by little acts of beauty - And help them bear the burden of earth’s load. - - Love thyself last. Look far and find the stranger - Who staggers ’neath his sin and his despair; - Go, lend a hand, and lead him out of danger, - To heights where he may see the world is fair. - - Love thyself last. The vastnesses above thee - Are filled with Spirit-Forces; strong and pure - And fervently these faithful friends shall love thee - Keep thou thy watch o’er others and endure. - - Love thyself last, and oh! such joy shall thrill thee - As never yet to selfish souls was given; - Whate’er thy lot, a perfect peace will fill thee, - And earth shall seem the ante-room of Heaven. - - Love thyself last, and thou shalt grow in spirit - To see, to hear, to know, and understand. - The message of the stars, lo, thou shalt hear it, - And all God’s joys shall be at thy command. - - - - -CHRISTMAS FANCIES - - - When Christmas bells are swinging above the fields of snow, - We hear sweet voices ringing from lands of long ago, - And etched on vacant places - Are half-forgotten faces - Of friends we used to cherish, and loves we used to know— - When Christmas bells are swinging above the fields of snow. - - Uprising from the ocean of the present surging near, - We see, with strange emotion, that is not free from fear, - That continent Elysian - Long vanished from our vision, - Youth’s lovely lost Atlantis, so mourned for and so dear, - Uprising from the ocean of the present surging near. - - When gloomy, gray Decembers are roused to Christmas mirth, - The dullest life remembers there once was joy on earth, - And draws from youth’s recesses - Some memory it possesses, - And, gazing through the lens of time, exaggerates its worth, - When gloomy, gray December is roused to Christmas mirth. - - When hanging up the holly or mistletoe, I wis - Each heart recalls some folly that lit the world with bliss. - Not all the seers and sages - With wisdom of the ages - Can give the mind such pleasure as memories of that kiss - When hanging up the holly or mistletoe, I wis. - - For life was made for loving, and love alone repays, - As passing years are proving, for all of Time’s sad ways. - There lies a sting in pleasure, - And fame gives shallow measure, - And wealth is but a phantom that mocks the restless days, - For life was made for loving, and only loving pays. - - When Christmas bells are pelting the air with silver chimes, - And silences are melting to soft, melodious rhymes, - Let Love, the world’s beginning, - End fear and hate and sinning; - Let Love, the God Eternal, be worshipped in all climes - When Christmas bells are pelting the air with silver chimes. - - - - -THE RIVER - - - I am a river flowing from God’s sea - Through devious ways. He mapped my course for me; - I cannot change it; mine alone the toil - To keep the waters free from grime and soil. - The winding river ends where it began; - And when my life has compassed its brief span - I must return to that mysterious source. - So let me gather daily on my course - The perfume from the blossoms as I pass, - Balm from the pines, and healing from the grass, - And carry down my current as I go - Not common stones but precious gems to show; - And tears (the holy water from sad eyes) - Back to God’s sea, from which all rivers rise, - Let me convey, not blood from wounded hearts, - Nor poison which the upas tree imparts. - When over flowery vales I leap with joy, - Let me not devastate them, nor destroy, - But rather leave them fairer to the sight; - Mine be the lot to comfort and delight. - And if down awful chasms I needs must leap, - Let me not murmur at my lot, but sweep - On bravely to the end without one fear, - Knowing that He who planned my ways stands near. - Love sent me forth, to Love I go again, - For Love is all, and over all. Amen. - - - - -SORRY - - - There is much that makes me sorry as I journey down life’s way, - And I seem to see more pathos in poor human lives each day. - I’m sorry for the strong, brave men who shield the weak from harm, - But who, in their own troubled hours, find no protecting arm. - - I’m sorry for the victors who have reached success, to stand - As targets for the arrows shot by envious failure’s hand. - I’m sorry for the generous hearts who freely shared their wine, - But drink alone the gall of tears in fortune’s drear decline. - - I’m sorry for the souls who build their own fame’s funeral pyre, - Derided by the scornful throng like ice deriding fire. - I’m sorry for the conquering ones who know not sin’s defeat, - But daily tread down fierce desire ’neath scorched and bleeding feet. - - I’m sorry for the anguished hearts that break with passion’s strain, - But I’m sorrier for the poor starved souls that never knew love’s - pain, - Who hunger on through barren years not tasting joys they crave, - For sadder far is such a lot than weeping o’er a grave. - - I’m sorry for the souls that come unwelcomed into birth, - I’m sorry for the unloved old who cumber up the earth, - I’m sorry for the suffering poor in life’s great maelstrom hurled— - In truth, I’m sorry for them all who make this aching world. - - But underneath whate’er seems sad and is not understood, - I know there lies hid from our sight a mighty germ of good. - And this belief stands firm by me, my sermon, motto, text— - The sorriest things in this life will seem grandest in the next. - - - - -AMBITION’S TRAIL - - - If all the end of this continuous striving - Were simply _to attain_, - How poor would seem the planning and contriving, - The endless urging and the hurried driving, - Of body, heart, and brain! - - But ever in the wake of true achieving - There shines this glowing trail— - Some other soul will be spurred on, conceiving - New strength and hope, in its own power believing, - Because _thou_ didst not fail. - - Not thine alone the glory, nor the sorrow, - If thou dost miss the goal; - Undreamed of lives in many a far to-morrow - From thee their weakness or their force shall borrow— - On, on, ambitious soul. - - - - -UNCONTROLLED - - - The mighty forces of mysterious space - Are one by one subdued by lordly man. - The awful lightning that for eons ran - Their devastating and untrammelled race, - Now bear his messages from place to place - Like carrier doves. The winds lead on his van; - The lawless elements no longer can - Resist his strength, but yield with sullen grace. - - His bold feet scaling heights before untrod, - Light, darkness, air and water, heat and cold, - He bids go forth and bring him power and pelf. - And yet, though ruler, king and demi-god, - He walks with his fierce passions uncontrolled, - The conqueror of all things—save himself. - - - - -WILL - - - You will be what you will to be; - Let failure find its false content - In that poor word “environment,” - But spirit scorns it, and is free. - - It masters time, it conquers space, - It cowes that boastful trickster Chance, - And bids the tyrant Circumstance - Uncrown and fill a servant’s place. - - The human Will, that force unseen, - The offspring of a deathless Soul, - Can hew the way to any goal, - Though walls of granite intervene. - - Be not impatient in delay, - But wait as one who understands; - When spirit rises and commands, - The gods are ready to obey. - - The river seeking for the sea - Confronts the dam and precipice, - Yet knows it cannot fail or miss; - _You will be what you will to be_! - - - - -TO AN ASTROLOGER - - - Nay, seer, I do not doubt thy mystic lore, - Nor question that the tenor of my life, - Past, present, and the future, is revealed - There in my horoscope. I do believe - That yon dead moon compels the haughty seas - To ebb and flow, and that my natal star - Stands like a stern-browed sentinel in space - And challenges events; nor lets one grief, - Or joy, or failure, or success, pass on - To mar or bless my earthly lot, until - It proves its Karmic right to come to me. - - All this I grant, but more than this I _know_! - Before the solar systems were conceived, - When nothing was but the unnamable, - My spirit lived, an atom of the Cause. - Through countless ages and in many forms - It has existed, ere it entered in - This human frame to serve its little day - Upon the earth. The deathless Me of me. - The spark from that great all-creative fire, - Is part of that eternal source called God, - And mightier than the universe. - - Why, he - Who knows, and knowing, never once forgets - The pedigree divine of his own soul, - Can conquer, shape, and govern destiny, - And use vast space as ’twere a board for chess - With stars for pawns; can change his horoscope - To suit his will; turn failure to success, - And from preordained sorrows, harvest joy. - - There is no puny planet, sun, or moon, - Or zodiacal sign which can control - The God in us! If we bring _that_ to bear - Upon events, we mould them to our wish; - ’Tis when the infinite ’neath the finite gropes - That men are governed by their horoscopes. - - - - -THE TENDRIL’S FATE - - - Under the snow, in the dark and the cold, - A pale little sprout was humming; - Sweetly it sang, ’neath the frozen mould, - Of the beautiful days that were coming. - - “How foolish your songs!” said a lump of clay; - “What is there, I ask, to prove them? - Just look at the walls between you and the day, - Now, have you the strength to move them?” - - But under the ice and under the snow - The pale little sprout kept singing, - “I cannot tell how, but I know, I know, - I know what the days are bringing. - - “Birds, and blossoms, and buzzing bees, - Blue, blue skies above me, - Bloom on the meadows and buds on the trees - And the great glad sun to love me.” - - A pebble spoke next: “You are quite absurd,” - It said, “with your song’s insistence; - For _I_ never saw a tree or a bird, - So of course there are none in existence.” - - “But I know, I know,” the tendril cried, - In beautiful sweet unreason; - Till lo! from its prison, glorified, - It burst in the glad spring season. - - - - -THE TIMES - - - The times are not degenerate. Man’s faith - Mounts higher than of old. No crumbling creed - Can take from the immortal soul the need - Of that supreme Creator, God. The wraith - Of dead beliefs we cherished in our youth - Fades but to let us welcome new-born Truth. - - Man may not worship at the ancient shrine - Prone on his face, in self-accusing scorn. - That night is past. He hails a fairer morn, - And knows himself a something all divine; - Not humble worm whose heritage is sin, - But, born of God, he feels the Christ withal. - - Not loud his prayers, as in the olden time, - But deep his reverence for that mighty force, - That occult working of the great All-Source, - Which makes the present era so sublime. - Religion now means something high and broad. - And man stood never half so near to God. - - - - -THE QUESTION - - - Beside us in our seeking after pleasures, - Through all our restless striving after fame, - Through all our search for worldly gains and treasures, - There walketh one whom no man likes to name. - Silent he follows, veiled of form and feature, - Indifferent if we sorrow or rejoice, - Yet that day comes when every living creature - Must look upon his face and hear his voice. - - When that day comes to you, and Death, unmasking, - Shall bar your path, and say, “Behold the end,” - What are the questions that he will be asking - About your past? Have you considered, friend? - I think he will not chide you for your sinning, - Nor for your creeds or dogmas will he care; - He will but ask, “From your life’s first beginning - How many burdens have you helped to bear?” - - - - -SORROW’S USES - - - The uses of sorrow I comprehend - Better and better at each year’s end. - - Deeper and deeper I seem to see - Why and wherefore it has to be. - - Only after the dark, wet days - Do we fully rejoice in the sun’s bright rays. - - Sweeter the crust tastes after the fast - Than the sated gourmand’s finest repast. - - The faintest cheer sounds never amiss - To the actor who once has heard a hiss. - - To one who the sadness of freedom knows, - Light seem the fetters love may impose. - - And he who has dwelt with his heart alone, - Hears all the music in friendship’s tone. - - So better and better I comprehend - How sorrow ever would be our friend. - - - - -IF - - - ’Twixt what thou art, and what thou wouldst be, let - No “If” arise on which to lay the blame. - Man makes a mountain of that puny word, - But, like a blade of grass before the scythe, - It falls and withers when a human will, - Stirred by creative force, sweeps toward its aim. - - Thou wilt be what thou couldst be. Circumstance - Is but the toy of genius. When a soul - Burns with a god-like purpose to achieve, - All obstacles between it and its goal - Must vanish as the dew before the sun. - - “If” is the motto of the dilettante - And idle dreamer; ’tis the poor excuse - Of mediocrity. The truly great - Know not the word, or know it but to scorn, - Else had Joan of Arc a peasant died, - Uncrowned by glory and by men unsung. - - - - -WHICH ARE YOU? - - - There are two kinds of people on earth to-day; - Just two kinds of people, no more, I say. - - Not the sinner and saint, for it’s well understood - The good are half bad, and the bad are half good. - - Not the rich and the poor, for to rate a man’s wealth - You must first know the state of his conscience and health. - - Not the humble and proud, for, in life’s little span, - Who puts on vain airs is not counted a man. - - Not the happy and sad, for the swift flying years - Bring each man his laughter, and each man his tears. - - No; the two kinds of people on earth I mean - Are the people who lift, and the people who lean. - - Wherever you go, you will find the earth’s masses - Are always divided in just these two classes. - - And, oddly enough, you will find too, I ween, - There’s only one lifter to twenty who lean. - - In which class are you? Are you easing the load - Of overtaxed lifters, who toil down the road? - - Or are you a leaner, who lets others share - Your portion of labour and worry and care? - - - - -THE CREED TO BE - - - Our thoughts are moulding unmade spheres, - And, like a blessing or a curse, - They thunder down the formless years, - And ring throughout the universe. - - We build our futures by the shape - Of our desires, and not by acts. - There is no pathway of escape; - No priest-made creeds can alter facts. - - Salvation is not begged or bought; - Too long this selfish hope sufficed; - Too long man reeked with lawless thought, - And leaned upon a tortured Christ. - - Like shrivelled leaves, these worn-out creeds - Are dropping from Religion’s tree; - The world begins to know its needs, - And souls are crying to be free. - - Free from the load of fear and grief, - Man fashioned in an ignorant age; - Free from the ache of unbelief - He fled to in rebellious rage. - - No church can bind him to the things - That fed the first crude souls, evolved; - For, mounting up on daring wings, - He questions mysteries all unsolved. - - Above the chant of priests, above - The blatant voice of braying doubt, - He hears the still, small voice of Love, - Which sends its simple message out. - - And clearer, sweeter, day by day, - Its mandate echoes from the skies, - “Go roll the stone of self away, - And let the Christ within thee rise.” - - - - -INSPIRATION - - - Not like a daring, bold, aggressive boy, - Is inspiration, eager to pursue, - But rather like a maiden, fond, yet coy, - Who gives herself to him who best doth woo. - - Once she may smile, or thrice, thy soul to fire, - In passing by, but when she turns her face, - Thou must persist and seek her with desire, - If thou wouldst win the favour of her grace. - - And if, like some winged bird, she cleaves the air, - And leaves thee spent and stricken on the earth, - Still must thou strive to follow even there, - That she may know thy valour and thy worth. - - Then shall she come unveiling all her charms, - Giving thee joy for pain, and smiles for tears; - Then shalt thou clasp her with possessing arms, - The while she murmurs music in thine ears. - - But ere her kiss has faded from thy cheek, - She shall flee from thee over hill and glade, - So must thou seek and ever seek and seek - For each new conquest of this phantom maid - - - - -THE WISH - - - Should some great angel say to me to-morrow, - “Thou must re-tread thy pathway from the start, - But God will grant, in pity, for thy sorrow, - Some one dear wish, the nearest to thy heart.” - - This were my wish!—from my life’s dim beginning - _Let be what has been_! wisdom planned the whole - My want, my woe, my errors, and my sinning, - All, all were needed lessons for my soul. - - - - -THREE FRIENDS - - - Of all the blessings which my life has known, - I value most, and most praise God for three: - Want, Loneliness, and Pain, those comrades true, - - Who masqueraded in the garb of foes - For many a year, and filled my heart with dread. - Yet fickle joys, like false, pretentious friends, - Have proved less worthy than this trio. First, - - Want taught me labour, led me up the steep - And toilsome paths to hills of pure delight, - Trod only by the feet that know fatigue, - And yet press on until the heights appear. - - Then loneliness and hunger of the heart - Sent me upreaching to the realms of space, - Till all the silences grew eloquent, - And all their loving forces hailed me friend. - - Last, pain taught prayer! placed in my hand the staff - Of close communion with the over-soul, - That I might lean upon it to the end, - And find myself made strong for any strife. - - And then these three who had pursued my steps - Like stern, relentless foes, year after year, - Unmasked, and turned their faces full on me, - And lo! they were divinely beautiful, - For through them shone the lustrous eyes of Love. - - - - -YOU NEVER CAN TELL - - - You never can tell when you send a word, - Like an arrow shot from a bow - By an archer blind, be it cruel or kind, - Just where it may chance to go! - It may pierce the breast of your dearest friend, - Tipped with its poison or balm; - To a stranger’s heart in life’s great mart, - It may carry its pain or its calm. - - You never can tell when you do an act - Just what the result will be; - But with every deed you are sowing a seed, - Though the harvest you may not see. - Each kindly act is an acorn dropped - In God’s productive soil. - You may not know, but the tree shall grow, - With shelter for those who toil. - - You never can tell what your thoughts will do, - In bringing you hate or love; - For thoughts are things, and their airy wings - Are swifter than carrier doves. - They follow the law of the universe— - Each thing must create its kind; - And they speed o’er the track to bring you back - _Whatever went out from your mind_. - - - - -HERE AND NOW - - - Here, in the heart of the world, - Here, in the noise and the din, - Here, where our spirits were hurled - To battle with sorrow and sin, - This is the place and the spot - For knowledge of infinite things - This is the kingdom where Thought - Can conquer the prowess of kings - - Wait for no heavenly life, - Seek for no temple alone; - Here, in the midst of the strife, - Know what the sages have known. - See what the Perfect Ones saw— - God in the depth of each soul, - God as the light and the law, - God as beginning and goal. - - Earth is one chamber of Heaven, - Death is no grander than birth. - Joy in the life that was given, - Strive for perfection on earth; - Here, in the turmoil and roar, - Show what it is to be calm; - Show how the spirit can soar - And bring back its healing and balm. - - Stand not aloof nor apart, - Plunge in the thick of the fight; - There, in the street and the mart, - That is the place to do right. - Not in some cloister or cave, - Not in some kingdom above, - Here, on this side of the grave, - Here, should we labour and love. - - - - -UNCONQUERED - - - However skilled and strong art thou, my foe, - However fierce is thy relentless hate, - Though firm thy hand, and strong thy aim, and straight - Thy poisoned arrow leaves the bended bow, - - To pierce the target of my heart, ah! know - I am the master yet of my own fate. - Thou canst not rob me of my best estate, - Though fortune, fame, and friends, yea, love shall go. - - Not to the dust shall my true self be hurled, - Nor shall I meet thy worst assaults dismayed; - When all things in the balance are well weighed, - There is but one great danger in the world— - _Thou canst not force my soul to wish thee ill_, - That is the only evil that can kill. - - - - -ALL THAT LOVE ASKS - - - “All that I ask,” says Love, “is just to stand - And gaze, unchided, deep in thy dear eyes; - For in their depths lies largest Paradise. - Yet, if perchance one pressure of thy hand - Be granted me, then joy I thought complete - Were still more sweet. - - “All that I ask,” says Love, “all that I ask, - Is just thy hand-clasp. Could I brush thy cheek - As zephyrs brush a rose leaf, words are weak - To tell the bliss in which my soul would bask. - There is no language but would desecrate - A joy so great. - - “All that I ask, is just one tender touch - Of that soft cheek. Thy pulsing palm in mine, - Thy dark eyes lifted in a trust divine, - And those curled lips that tempt me overmuch - Turned where I may not seize the supreme bliss - Of one mad kiss. - - “All that I ask,” says Love, “of life, of death, - Or of high heaven itself, is just to stand, - Glance melting into glance, hand twined in hand, - The while I drink the nectar of thy breath - In one sweet kiss, but one, of all thy store, - I ask no more.” - - “All that I ask”—nay, self-deceiving Love, - Reverse thy phrase, so thus the words may fall, - In place of “all I ask,” say, “I ask all,” - All that pertains to earth or soars above, - All that thou wert, art, will be, body, soul, - Love asks the whole, - - - - -“DOES IT PAY?” - - - If one poor burdened toiler o’er life’s road, - Who meets us by the way, - Goes on less conscious of his galling load, - Then life, indeed, does pay. - - If we can show one troubled heart the gain - That lies alway in loss, - Why, then, we too are paid for all the pain - Of bearing life’s hard cross. - - If some despondent soul to hope is stirred, - Some sad lip made to smile, - By any act of ours, or any word, - Then, life has been worth while. - - - - -SESTINA - - - I wandered o’er the vast green plains of youth, - And searched for Pleasure. On a distant height - Fame’s silhouette stood sharp against the skies. - Beyond vast crowds that thronged a broad highway - I caught the glimmer of a golden goal, - While from a blooming bower smiled siren Love. - - Straight gazing in her eyes, I laughed at Love - With all the haughty insolence of youth, - As past her bower I strode to seek my goal. - “Now will I climb to glory’s dizzy height,” - I said, “for there above the common way - Doth pleasure dwell companioned by the skies.” - - But when I reached that summit near the skies, - So far from man I seemed, so far from Love— - “Not here,” I cried, “doth Pleasure find her way.” - Seen from the distant borderland of youth, - Fame smiles upon us from her sun-kissed height, - But frowns in shadows when we reach the goal. - - Then were mine eyes fixed on that glittering goal, - Dear to all sense—sunk souls beneath the skies. - Gold tempts the artist from the lofty height, - Gold lures the maiden from the arms of Love, - Gold buys the fresh, ingenuous heart of youth, - “And gold,” I said, “will show me Pleasure’s way.” - - But ah! the soil and discord of that way, - Where savage hordes rushed headlong to the goal, - Dead to the best impulses of their youth, - Blind to the azure beauty of the skies; - Dulled to the voice of conscience and of love, - They wandered far from Truth’s eternal height. - - Then Truth spoke to me from that noble height, - Saying, “Thou didst pass Pleasure on the way, - She with the yearning eyes so full of Love, - Whom thou disdained to seek for glory’s goal. - Two blending paths beneath God’s arching skies - Lead straight to Pleasure. Ah! blind heart of youth, - Not up fame’s height, not toward the base god’s goal, - Doth Pleasure make her way, but ’neath calm skies - Where Duty walks with Love in endless youth.” - - - - -THE OPTIMIST - - - The fields were bleak and sodden. - Not a wing - Or note enlivened the depressing wood; - A soiled and sullen, stubborn snowdrift stood - Beside the roadway. Winds came muttering - Of storms to be, and brought the chilly sting - Of icebergs in their breath. Stalled cattle mooed - Forth plaintive pleadings for the earth’s green food. - No gleam, no hint of hope in anything. - - The sky was blank and ashen, like the face - Of some poor wretch who drains life’s cup too fast - Yet, swaying to and fro, as if to fling - About chilled Nature its lithe arms of grace, - Smiling with promise in the wintry blast, - The optimistic Willow spoke of spring. - - - - -THE PESSIMIST - - - The pessimistic locust, last to leaf, - Though all the world is glad, still talks of grief. - - - - -AN INSPIRATION - - - However the battle is ended, - Though proudly the victor comes - With fluttering flags and prancing nags - And echoing roll of drums, - Still truth proclaims this motto - In letters of living light,— - No question is ever settled - Until it is settled right. - - Though the heel of the strong oppressor - May grind the weak in the dust; - And the voices of fame with one acclaim - May call him great and just, - Let those who applaud take warning. - And keep this motto in sight,— - No question is ever settled - Until it is settled right. - - Let those who have failed take courage; - Though the enemy seems to have won, - Though his ranks are strong, if he be in the wrong - The battle is not yet done; - For, sure as the morning follows - The darkest hour of the night, - No question is ever settled - Until it is settled right. - - O man bowed down with labour! - O woman young, yet old! - O heart oppressed in the toiler’s breast - And crushed by the power of gold - Keep on with your weary battle - Against triumphant might; - No question is ever settled - Until it is settled right. - - - - -LIFE’S HARMONIES - - - Let no man pray that he know not sorrow, - Let no soul ask to be free from pain, - For the gall of to-day is the sweet of to-morrow, - And the moment’s loss is the lifetime’s gain. - - Through want of a thing does its worth redouble, - Through hunger’s pangs does the feast content, - And only the heart that has harboured trouble - Can fully rejoice when joy is sent. - - Let no man shrink from the bitter tonics - Of grief, and yearning, and need, and strife, - For the rarest chords in the soul’s harmonics - Are found in the minor strains of life. - - - - -PREPARATION - - - We must not force events, but rather make - The heart soil ready for their coming, as - The earth spreads carpets for the feet of Spring, - Or, with the strengthening tonic of the frost, - Prepares for winter. Should a July noon - Burst suddenly upon a frozen world - Small joy would follow, even though that world - Were longing for the Summer. Should the sting - Of sharp December pierce the heart of June, - What death and devastation would ensue! - All things are planned. The most majestic sphere - That whirls through space is governed and controlled - By supreme law, as is the blade of grass - Which through the bursting bosom of the earth - Creeps up to kiss the light. Poor, puny man - Alone doth strive and battle with the Force - Which rules all lives and worlds, and he alone - Demands effect before producing cause. - How vain the hope! We cannot harvest joy - Until we sow the seed, and God alone - Knows when that seed has ripened. Oft we stand - And watch the ground with anxious, brooding eyes, - Complaining of the slow, unfruitful yield, - Not knowing that the shadow of ourselves - Keeps off the sunlight and delays result. - Sometimes our fierce impatience of desire - Doth like a sultry May force tender shoots - Of half-formed pleasures and unshaped events - To ripen prematurely, and we reap - But disappointment; or we rot the germs - With briny tears ere they have time to grow. - While stars are born and mighty planets die - And hissing comets scorch the brow of space, - The Universe keeps its eternal calm. - Through patient preparation, year on year, - The earth endures the travail of the Spring - And Winter’s desolation. So our souls - In grand submission to a higher law - Should move serene through all the ills of life - Believing them masked joys. - - - - -GETHSEMANE - - - In golden youth when seems the earth - A Summer-land of singing mirth, - When souls are glad and hearts are light, - And not a shadow lurks in sight, - We do not know it, but there lieu - Somewhere veiled under evening skies - A garden which we all must see— - The garden of Gethsemane. - - With joyous steps we go our ways, - Love lends a halo to our days; - Light sorrows sail like clouds afar, - We laugh, and say how strong we are. - We hurry on; and hurrying, go - Close to the borderland of woe - That waits for you, and waits for me— - Forever waits Gethsemane. - - Down shadowy lanes, across strange streams, - Bridged over by our broken dreams; - Behind the misty caps of years, - Beyond the great salt fount of tears, - The garden lies. Strive as you may, - You cannot miss it in your way; - All paths that have been, or shall be, - Pass somewhere through Gethsemane. - - All those who journey, soon or late, - Must pass within the garden’s gate; - Must kneel alone in darkness there, - And battle with some fierce despair. - God pity those who cannot say, - “Not mine but Thine”; who only pray - “Let this cup pass,” and cannot see - The _purpose_ in Gethsemane. - - - - -GOD’S MEASURE - - - God measures souls by their capacity - For entertaining his best Angel, Love. - Who loveth most is nearest kin to God, - Who is all Love, or Nothing. - - He who sits - And looks out on the palpitating world, - And feels his heart swell in him large enough - To hold all men within it, he is near - His great Creator’s standard, though he dwells - Outside the pale of churches, and knows not - A feast-day from a fast-day, or a line - Of Scripture even. What God wants of us - Is that outreaching bigness that ignores - All littleness of aims, or loves, or creeds, - And clasps all Earth and Heaven in its embrace. - - - - -NOBLESSE OBLIGE - - - I hold it the duty of one who is gifted - And specially dowered in all men’s sight, - To know no rest till his life is lifted - Fully up to his great gifts’ height. - - He must mould the man into rare completeness, - For gems are set only in gold refined. - He must fashion his thoughts into perfect sweetness. - And cast out folly and pride from his mind. - - For he who drinks from a god’s gold fountain - Of art or music or rhythmic song - Must sift from his soul the chaff of malice, - And weed from his heart the roots of wrong. - - Great gifts should be worn, like a crown befitting, - And not like gems in a beggar’s hands! - And the toil must be constant and unremitting - Which lifts up the king to the crown’s demands. - - - - -THROUGH TEARS - - - An artist toiled over his pictures; - He laboured by night and by day, - He struggled for glory and honour - But the world, it had nothing to say. - His walls were ablaze with the splendours - We see in the beautiful skies; - But the world beheld only the colours - That were made out of chemical dyes. - - Time sped. And he lived, loved, and suffered; - He passed through the valley of grief. - Again he toiled over his canvas, - Since in labour alone was relief. - It showed not the splendour of colours - Of those of his earlier years; - But the world? the world bowed down before it - Because it was painted with tears. - - A poet was gifted with genius, - And he sang, and he sang all the days. - He wrote for the praise of the people, - But the people accorded no praise. - Oh! his songs were as blithe as the morning, - As sweet as the music of birds; - But the world had no homage to offer, - Because they were nothing but words. - - Time sped. And the poet through sorrow - Became like his suffering kind. - Again he toiled over his poems - To lighten the grief of his mind. - They were not so flowing and rhythmic - As those of his earlier years; - But the world? lo! it offered its homage, - Because they were written in tears. - - So ever the price must be given - By those seeking glory in art; - So ever the world is repaying - The grief-stricken, suffering heart. - The happy must ever be humble; - Ambition must wait for the years - Ere hoping to win the approval - Of a world that looks on through its tears. - - - - -WHAT WE NEED - - - What does our country need? No armies standing - With sabres gleaming ready for the fight; - Not increased navies, skilful and commanding, - To bound the waters with an iron might; - Not haughty men with glutted purses trying - To purchase souls, and keep the power of place; - Not jewelled dolls with one another vying - For palms of beauty, elegance, and grace. - - But we want women, strong of soul, yet lowly, - With that rare meekness, born of gentleness; - Women whose lives are pure and clean and holy, - The women whom all little children bless; - Brave, earnest women, helpful to each other, - With finest scorn for all things low and mean; - Women who hold the names of wife and mother - Far nobler than the title of a queen. - - Oh! these are they who mould the men of story, - These mothers, ofttimes shorn of grace and youth, - Who, worn and weary, ask no greater glory - Than making some young soul the home of truth; - Who sow in hearts all fallow for the sowing - The seeds of virtue and of scorn for sin, - And, patient, watch the beauteous harvest growing - And weed out tares which crafty hands cast in; - - Women who do not hold the gift of beauty - As some rare treasure to be bought and sold. - But guard it as a precious aid to duty— - The outer framing of the inner gold; - Women who, low above their cradles bending, - Let flattery’s voice go by, and give no heed, - While their pure prayers like incense are ascending - _These_ are our country’s pride, our country’s need, - - - - -PLEA TO SCIENCE - - - O Science, reaching backward through the distance, - Most earnest child of God, - Exposing all the secrets of existence, - With thy divining rod, - I bid thee speed up to the heights supernal, - Clear thinker, ne’er sufficed; - Go seek and bind the laws and truths eternal, - But leave me Christ. - - Upon the vanity of pious sages - Let in the light of day; - Break down the superstitions of all ages— - Thrust bigotry away; - Stride on, and bid all stubborn foes defiance, - Let Truth and Reason reign: - But I beseech thee, O Immortal Science, - Let Christ remain. - - What canst thou give to help me bear my crosses, - In place of Him, my Lord? - And what to recompense for all my losses, - And bring me sweet reward? - _Thou_ couldst not with thy clear, cold eyes of reason, - Thou couldst not comfort me - Like One who passed through that tear-blotted season - In sad Gethsemane! - - Through all the weary, wearing hour of sorrow, - What word that thou hast said - Would make me strong to wait for some to-morrow - When I should find my dead? - When I am weak, and desolate, and lonely— - And prone to follow wrong? - Not thou, O Science—Christ, my Saviour, only - Can make me strong. - - Thou art so cold, so lofty, and so distant, - Though great my need might be, - No prayer, however constant and persistent, - Could bring thee down to me. - Christ stands so near, to help me through each hour, - To guide me day by day - O Science, sweeping all before thy power— - Leave Christ, I pray! - - - - -RESPITE - - - The mighty conflict, which we call existence, - Doth wear upon the body and the soul, - Our vital forces wasted in resistance, - So much there is to conquer and control. - - The rock which meets the billows with defiance, - Undaunted and unshaken day by day, - In spite of its unyielding self-reliance, - Is by the warfare surely worn away. - - And there are depths and heights of strong emotions - That surge at times within the human breast, - More fierce than all the tides of all the oceans - Which sweep on ever in divine unrest. - - I sometimes think the rock worn with adventures, - And sad with thoughts of conflicts yet to be, - Must envy the frail reed which no one censures, - When, overcome, ’tis swallowed by the sea. - - This life is all resistance and repression. - Dear God, if in that other world unseen, - Not rest we find, but new life and progression, - Grant us a respite in the grave between. - - - - -SONG - - - O praise me not with your lips, dear one! - Though your tender words I prize. - But dearer by far is the soulful gaze - Of your eyes, your beautiful eyes - Your tender, loving eyes. - - O chide me not with your lips, dear one! - Though I cause your bosom sighs. - You can make repentance deeper far - By your sad, reproving eyes, - Your sorrowful, troubled eyes. - - Words, at the best, are but hollow sounds; - Above, in the beaming skies, - The constant stars say never a word, - But only smile with their eyes— - Smile on with their lustrous eyes. - - Then breathe no vow with your lips, dear one; - On the winged wind speech flies. - But I read the truth of your noble heart - In your soulful, speaking eyes— - In your deep and beautiful eyes. - - - - -MY SHIPS - - - If all the ships I have at sea - Should come a-sailing home to me, - Ah, well! the harbour could not hold - So many sails as there would be - If all my ships came in from sea. - - If half my ships came home from sea, - And brought their precious freight to me, - Ah, well! I should have wealth as great - As any king who sits in state— - So rich the treasures that would be - In half my ships now out at sea. - - If just one ship I have at sea - Should come a-sailing home to me, - Ah, well! the storm-clouds then might frown - For if the others all went down, - Still rich and proud and glad I’d be - If that one ship came back to me. - - If that one ship went down at sea, - And all the others came to me, - Weighed down with gems and wealth untold, - With glory, honours, riches, gold, - The poorest soul on earth I’d be - If that one ship came not to me. - - O skies, be calm! O winds, blow free— - Blow all my ships safe home to me! - But if thou sendest some a-wrack, - To never more come sailing back, - Send any—all that skim the sea, - But bring my love-ship home to me. - - - - -HER LOVE - - - The sands upon the ocean side - That change about with every tide, - And never true to one abide, - A woman’s love I liken to. - - The summer zephyrs, light and vain, - That sing the same alluring strain - To every grass blade on the plain— - A woman’s love is nothing more. - - The sunshine of an April day - That comes to warm you with its ray, - But while you smile has flown away— - A woman’s love is like to this. - - God made poor woman with no heart, - But gave her skill, and tact, and art, - And so she lives, and plays her part. - We must not blame, but pity her. - - She leans to man—but just to hear - The praise he whispers in her ear; - Herself, not him, she holdeth dear— - O fool! to be deceived by her. - - To sate her selfish thirst she quaffs - The love of strong hearts in sweet draughts, - Then throws them lightly by and laughs, - Too weak to understand their pain. - - As changeful as the winds that blow - From every region to and fro, - Devoid of heart, she cannot know - The suffering of a human heart. - - - - -IF - - - Dear love, if you and I could sail away, - With snowy pennons to the winds unfurled, - Across the waters of some unknown bay, - And find some island far from all the world; - - If we could dwell there, evermore alone, - While unrecorded years slip by apace, - Forgetting and forgotten and unknown - By aught save native song-birds of the place; - - If Winter never visited that land, - And Summer’s lap spilled o’er with fruits and flowers, - And tropic trees cast shade on every hand, - And twinèd boughs formed sleep-inviting bowers; - - If from the fashions of the world set free, - And hid away from all its jealous strife, - I lived alone for you, and you for me— - Ah! then, dear love, how sweet were wedded life. - - But since we dwell here in the crowded way, - Where hurrying throngs rush by to seek for gold, - And all is commonplace and work-a-day - As soon as love’s young honeymoon grows old; - - Since fashion rules and nature yields to art, - And life is hurt by daily jar and fret, - ’Tis best to shut such dreams down in the heart - And go our ways alone, love, and forget. - - - - -LOVE’S BURIAL - - - Let us clear a little space, - And make Love a burial-place. - - He is dead, dear, as you see, - And he wearies you and me. - - Growing heavier, day by day, - Let us bury him, I say. - - Wings of dead white butterflies, - These shall shroud him, as he lies - - In his casket rich and rare, - Made of finest maiden-hair. - - With the pollen of the rose - Let us his white eyelids close. - - Put the rose thorn in his hand, - Shorn of leaves—you understand. - - Let some holy water fall - On his dead face, tears of gall— - - As we kneel to him and say, - “Dreams to dreams,” and turn away. - - Those gravediggers, Doubt, Distrust, - They will lower him to the dust. - - Let us part here with a kiss— - You go that way, I go this. - - Since we buried Love to-day - We will walk a separate way. - - - - -“LOVE IS ENOUGH” - - - Love is enough. Let us not ask for gold. - Wealth breeds false aims, and pride, and selfishness; - In those serene, Arcadian days of old - Men gave no thought to princely homes and dress. - The gods who dwelt on fair Olympia’s height - Lived only for dear love and love’s delight. - Love is enough. - - Love is enough. Why should we care for fame? - Ambition is a most unpleasant guest: - It lures us with the glory of a name - Far from the happy haunts of peace and rest. - Let us stay here in this secluded place - Made beautiful by love’s endearing grace! - Love is enough. - - Love is enough. Why should we strive for power? - It brings men only envy and distrust. - The poor world’s homage pleases but an hour, - And earthly honours vanish in the dust. - The grandest lives are ofttimes desolate; - Let me be loved, and let who will be great. - Love is enough. - - Love is enough. Why should we ask for more? - What greater gift have gods vouchsafed to men? - What better boon of all their precious store - Than our fond hearts that love and love again? - Old love may die; new love is just as sweet; - And life is fair and all the world complete: - Love is enough! - - - - -LIFE IS A PRIVILEGE - - - Life is a privilege. Its youthful days - Shine with the radiance of continuous Mays. - To live, to breathe, to wonder and desire, - To feed with dreams the heart’s perpetual fire, - To thrill with virtuous passions, and to glow - With great ambitions—in one hour to know - The depths and heights of feeling—God! in truth, - How beautiful, how beautiful is youth! - - Life is a privilege. Like some rare rose - The mysteries of the human mind unclose. - What marvels lie in earth, and air, and sea! - What stores of knowledge wait our opening key! - What sunny roads of happiness lead out - Beyond the realms of indolence and doubt! - And what large pleasures smile upon and bless - The busy avenues of usefulness! - - Life is a privilege. Though noontide fades - And shadows fall along the winding glades, - Though joy-blooms wither in the autumn air, - Yet the sweet scent of sympathy is there. - Pale sorrow leads us closer to our kind, - And in the serious hours of life we find - Depths in the souls of men which lend new worth - And majesty to this brief span of earth. - - Life is a privilege. If some sad fate - Sends us alone to seek the exit gate, - If men forsake us and as shadows fall, - Still does the supreme privilege of all - Come in that reaching upward of the soul - To find the welcoming Presence at the goal, - And in the Knowledge that our feet have trod - Paths that led from, and must wind back, to God. - - - - -INSIGHT - - - Sirs, when you pity us, I say - You waste your pity. Let it stay, - Well corked and stored upon your shelves, - Until you need it for yourselves. - - We do appreciate God’s thought - In forming you, before He brought - Us into life. His art was crude, - But oh! so virile in its rude, - - Large, elemental strength; and then - He learned His trade in making men, - Learned how to mix and mould the clay - And fashion in a finer way. - - How fine that skilful way can be - You need but lift your eyes to see; - And we are glad God placed you there - To lift your eyes and find us fair. - - Apprentice labour though you were, - He made you great enough to stir - The best and deepest depths of us, - And we are glad He made you thus. - - Aye! we are glad of many things; - God strung our hearts with such fine strings - The least breath moves them, and we hear - Music where silence greets your ear. - - We suffer so? But women’s souls, - Like violet-powder dropped on coals, - Give forth their best in anguish. Oh - The subtle secrets that we know - - Of joy in sorrow, strange delights - Of ecstasy in pain-filled nights, - And mysteries of gain in loss - Known but to Christ upon the cross! - - Our tears are pitiful to you? - Look how the heaven-reflecting dew - Dissolves its life in tears. The sand - Meanwhile lies hard upon the strand. - - How could your pity find a place - For us, the mothers of the race? - Men may be fathers unaware, - So poor the title is you wear. - - But mothers—who that crown adorns - Knows all its mingled blooms and thorns, - And she whose feet that pain hath trod - Hath walked upon the heights with God. - - No, offer us not pity’s cup. - There is no looking down or up - Between us; eye looks straight in eye: - Born equals, so we live and die. - - - - -A WOMAN’S ANSWER - - - You call me an angel of love and of light, - A being of goodness and heavenly fire, - Sent out from God’s kingdom to guide you aright, - In paths where your spirit may mount and aspire, - You say that I glow like a star on its course, - Like a ray from the altar, a spark from the source. - - Now list to my answer—let all the world hear it, - I speak unafraid what I know to be true— - A pure, faithful love is the creative spirit - Which make women angels! I live but in you. - We are bound soul to soul by life’s holiest laws; - If I am an angel—why, you are the cause. - - As my ship skims the sea, I look up from the deck. - Fair, firm at the wheel shines Love’s beautiful form. - And shall I curse the bark that last night went to wreck - By the pilot abandoned to darkness and storm? - My craft is no stauncher, she too had been lost - Had the wheelman deserted, or slept at his post. - - I laid down the wealth of my soul at your feet - (Some woman does this for some man every day). - No desperate creature who walks in the street - Has a wickeder heart than I might have, I say, - Had you wantonly misused the treasures you won— - As so many men with heart-riches have done. - - This fire from God’s altar, this holy love-flame, - That burns like sweet incense forever for you, - Might now be a wild conflagration of shame, - Had you tortured my heart, or been base or untrue. - For angels and devils are cast in one mould, - Till love guides them upward or downward, I hold. - - I tell you the women who make fervent wives - And sweet tender mothers, had Fate been less fair, - Are the women who might have abandoned their lives - To the madness that springs from and ends in despair. - As the fire on the hearth which sheds brightness around, - Neglected, may level the walls to the ground. - - The world makes grave errors in judging these things. - Great good and great evil are born in one breast: - Love horns us and hoofs us, or gives us our wings, - And the best could be worst, as the worst could be best. - You must thank your own worth for what I grew to be, - For the demon lurked under the angel in me. - - - - -THE WORLD’S NEED - - - So many gods, so many creeds, - So many paths that wind and wind, - While just the art of being kind, - Is all the sad world needs. - - * * * * * - - * * * * * - - _Printed by Hanell_, _Watson & Viney_, _Ld._, _London and Aylesbury_. - - - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS OF POWER *** - -***** This file should be named 6667-0.txt or 6667-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - https://www.gutenberg.org/6/6/6/6667/ - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -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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