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diff --git a/old/ppow10.txt b/old/ppow10.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 90d37b6..0000000 --- a/old/ppow10.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,3614 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Poems of Power, by Ella Wheeler Wilcox -(#12 in our series by Ella Wheeler Wilcox) - -Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the -copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing -this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. - -This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project -Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the -header without written permission. - -Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the -eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is -important information about your specific rights and restrictions in -how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a -donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. - - -**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** - -**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** - -*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** - - -Title: Poems of Power - -Author: Ella Wheeler Wilcox - -Release Date: October, 2004 [EBook #6667] -[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] -[This file was first posted on January 10, 2003] - -Edition: 10 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, POEMS OF POWER *** - - - - -Transcribed from the 1918 Gay and Hancock edition by David Price, -email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk - - - - -POEMS OF POWER - - - - -Contents: - Note - The Queen's last ride - The Meeting of the Centuries - Death has Crowned him a Martyr - Grief - Illusion - Assertion - I Am - Wishing - We two - The Poet's Theme - Song of the Spirit - Womanhood - Morning Prayer - The Voices of the People - The World grows Better - A Man's Ideal - The Fire Brigade - The Tides - When the Regiment came back - Woman to Man - The Traveller - The Earth - Now - You and To-day - The Reason - Mission - Repetition - Begin the Day - Words - Fate and I - Attainment - A Plea to Peace - Presumption - High Noon - Thought-magnets - Smiles - The Undiscovered Country - The Universal Route - Unanswered Prayers - Thanksgiving - Contrasts - Thy Ship - Life - A Marine Etching - "Love Thyself Last" - Christmas Fancies - The River - Sorry - Ambition's trail - Uncontrolled - Will - To an Astrologer - The Tendril's Fate - The Times - The Question - Sorrow's Uses - If - Which are you? - The Creed to be - Inspiration - The Wish - Three Friends - You never can tell - Here and now - Unconquered - All that love asks - "Does it pay?" - Sestina - The Optimist - The Pessimist - An Inspiration - Life's Harmonies - Preparation - Gethsemane - God's Measure - Noblesse Oblige - Through Tears - What we Need - Plea to Science - Respite - Song - My Ships - Her Love - If - Love's burial - "Love is enough" - Life is a Privilege - Insight - A Woman's Answer - The World's Need - - - -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. - - - - -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-a-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 hack 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 twined 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. - - - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, POEMS OF POWER *** - -This file should be named ppow10.txt or ppow10.zip -Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, ppow11.txt -VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, ppow10a.txt - -Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US -unless a copyright notice is included. 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