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+Project Gutenberg's Pan and Aeolus: Poems, by Charles Hamilton Musgrove
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Pan and Aeolus: Poems
+
+Author: Charles Hamilton Musgrove
+
+Release Date: November 26, 2008 [EBook #27333]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PAN AND AEOLUS: POEMS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Garcia, Stephen Blundell and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by The Kentuckiana Digital Library)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+           POEMS
+
+
+            BY
+
+ CHARLES HAMILTON MUSGROVE
+
+
+      [Illustration]
+
+
+ JOHN P. MORTON & COMPANY
+       INCORPORATED
+
+   LOUISVILLE, KENTUCKY
+
+
+
+
+       COPYRIGHT, 1913,
+ BY CHARLES HAMILTON MUSGROVE.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+                                 Page
+ A Fugue of Hell                    1
+ Hymn of the Tomb Builders          7
+ The Tornado                       10
+ Voices                            12
+ A Song for the Hills              14
+ Romany                            15
+ Idols                             16
+ Ode to the New Century            18
+ A Clown's Prelude                 21
+ A Legend of Gold                  22
+ The Eagle and the Flower          23
+ Sunset in the City                24
+ The Admiral's Return              25
+ The Dungeoned Anarchist           26
+ At the Play                       27
+ The Derelict                      28
+ Zoroaster                         29
+ The North Wind                    31
+ Where is God?                     32
+ The Story of Moses                34
+ Parthenope to Ulysses             36
+ Death                             37
+ The Light Celestial               38
+ Cupid to a Skull                  39
+ The Passing Race                  40
+ Kenotaphion                       42
+ The Red Cross                     43
+ Midsummer Noon                    44
+ The Snow Man                      45
+ Our Sister of the Streets         46
+ The Earthworm and the Star        48
+ The Riddle of the Sphinx          49
+ The Mothers                       50
+ In the Night                      51
+ Forgiven                          52
+ A Woman, and some Men             53
+ The Newly Dead                    55
+ The First Born                    56
+ The Voice of the North            57
+ To C. 33                          59
+ Silence                           60
+ Columbus' Last Voyage             61
+ Atonement                         62
+ The Poet Shepherd                 63
+ Our Daily Bread                   64
+ A Mother to the Sea               65
+ The Feast of the Passions         66
+ The Human World                   68
+ The Vow Forsworn                  69
+ Confession                        70
+ Love and Art                      71
+ The Song of the Dynamo            73
+ The Gold Fields                   76
+ The Woman Answers                 77
+ The Monastery                     78
+ The Passion Play                  79
+ Instruments                       83
+ Quatrains                         84
+ Immutability                      86
+ The Fettered Vultures             87
+ The Dead Child                    89
+ Night in May                      90
+ De Profundis                      91
+
+
+
+
+PAN AND ÆOLUS
+
+
+
+
+A FUGUE OF HELL.
+
+
+I.
+
+    I dreamed a mighty dream. It seemed mine eyes
+    Sealed for the moment were to things terrene,
+    And then there came a strange, great wind that blew
+    From undiscovered lands, and took my soul
+    And set it on an uttermost peak of Hell
+    Amid the gloom and fearful silences.
+    Slowly the darkness paled, and a weird dawn
+    Broke on my wondering vision, and there grew
+    Uncanny phosphorescence in the air
+    Which seemed to throb with some great vital spell
+    Of mystery and doom. With aching eyes
+    I gazed, and lo! the dreadful scene evolved,
+    Black and chaotic, like an awful birth
+    To Desolation, of a lifeless world!
+    My soul in agony cried out to God,
+    When of a sudden all the place grew calm,
+    Save for the trembling of the mountain peaks
+    And the low moaning of the billowy winds
+    Among the abysses. Dull lights here and there
+    Kindled, like wreckage of a city razed
+    By vandals, and the inky sky cupped up
+    Into a black, impenetrable roof....
+    But now from out the chaos there arose
+    Another sound more fearful than the wail
+    Of tempest, or the quake of mighty hills--
+    A mortal cry, a human voice in Hell!
+
+
+II.
+
+    The infernal glare grew brighter, and there came
+    Unto mine ears the sound of many tongues,
+    Mingling discordant curse with bitter cry
+    Of lamentation. On the outer marge
+    Of Hell's domains, set one at each of four
+    Far sundered corners, four volcanoes grim
+    Spewed up their flaming bowels into a sea
+    Of blackness whence no light could issue forth.
+    Beyond this fierce horizon, farther yet
+    Than vision's wing could bear my gaze, I knew
+    Hell's desolate kingdoms stretched their iron wastes,
+    Hell's burning mountains waved their brands of flame,
+    Hell's lava rivers plunged in fury down
+    Their adamantine beds.
+
+                              The human cry
+    Deepened,--the stunning babel shrieked and roared
+    As though some mighty revolution swept
+    The flying hosts along--some pang too keen
+    For the immortal and transcendent pains
+    Of Hell to quench, was burning in their souls.
+
+
+III.
+
+    Slowly mine eyes pierced through the pallid light
+    That crowned the awful place, and then I saw
+    That which shall not be seen of mortal eye
+    Until the final day. I saw the vast
+    Black concourse of Inferno pouring in
+    From Hell's four sides, and gathering at the base
+    Of a stupendous mountain whose great crest
+    Towered high above the glare, and lost itself
+    In blackness. Never met such throng before
+    In Hell or Heaven. Flowing round the mount
+    Like a huge deluge, from afar they came,
+    And near. A dreadful sound was on mine ears,
+    As when the first great call of deep to deep
+    Broke on the natal silence, or as when
+    The wailing cry of universal death
+    Shall shake the pillars of eternity!
+
+    Still came the multitudes, and still the sea
+    Of human souls surged round the iron base
+    Of that mysterious mountain, while afar
+    The dim circumference was added to
+    With newer legions. Conquerors of old,
+    Armored and visored in resplendent steel,
+    Galloped on Hell-steeds, that with one great bound
+    Cleared bottomless cañons; then the kings and queens
+    Of Babylon, shorn of their lofty state,
+    Came abject, and with terror in those eyes
+    That once outshone the world; and after them,
+    Myriads who reveled at the feast of life,
+    And when the reeling stupor of their wine
+    Had loosened, woke and found their souls in Hell.
+
+
+IV.
+
+    What horrid crisis, then, I thought, can bring
+    The infernal minions to assemble here
+    Within the shadow of this gloomy peak
+    That seems to thrust aloft its fearful head
+    Even to God's footstool? Then as if there came
+    Answer direct to my soul's questioning,
+    A great voice lifted from the throng, which seemed
+    To bear up heaven-high its might of words,
+    Crying: "Thou wan inheritors of pain,
+    Angels and princes, ministers of Hell,
+    Hearken! The day of all great days is come,
+    Commemorative of that legend old
+    Whose prophecy is that when the time has run
+    A million æons out, if God relent,
+    A symbol shall be set upon the top
+    Of yonder mount--a blazing star--to tell
+    That hope is not yet dead. O powers of night,
+    Children of woe and darkness! not again
+    Shall Hell know such a gathering as this
+    Until, if hope be not forever fled,
+    The day of our redemption shall arrive!"
+    The voice ceased and a murmur ran through Hell,
+    A fearful whisper, scarcely breathing, "Hope!"
+    Then louder, as when storms begin to blow,
+    Gusty and fitful, and the word was "Hope!"
+    Then, rising like a tempest, swelling high
+    In vast crescendo, swept the human cry,
+    And all Hell's thunderous gamut answered "_Hope!_"
+
+
+V.
+
+    The shouts ceased, and the exultation died
+    Slowly into a sort of empty wail,
+    Half hope and half despair, for still the sign
+    Had not yet blazed upon their eager eyes.
+    Then as I sat in wondering agony,
+    Praying, yet fearing, for the greatest cause
+    That ever souls of men in balance set
+    'Gainst everlasting doom, there rose again
+    The voice of their great leader, Lucifer,
+    The rebel angel, and outcast of God:
+    "Lo, hosts of Hell," he cried, "inheritors
+    Of death diurnal, strangely mingled with
+    Relentless life, what shall we say to God
+    Who waits and watches? Shall we pray or curse,
+    Implore or threaten? Can we move Him thus?
+    Burn not the lightnings yet in His right hand
+    With which He struck us to confusion once?
+    And laughs He not in thunderbolts the same
+    As once pursued our howling flight to Hell?
+    Befits it rather, think ye not, my hosts,
+    That we should send on high in one accord
+    A mighty threnody--a hymn of Hell,
+    Inspired by pain and sung in bitterest woe,
+    As our best offering,--and await His word?"
+
+    He ceased, and for the moment all was still;
+    Then plaintive as the rhythmic dawn of stars
+    Upon a night of sorrow, rose a strain
+    Of lamentation, such as when the sea
+    Makes moan unto an earthquake's inward throes.
+    Then circling outward passed the rising tones
+    Of that sad minstrelsy, and then again
+    Backward it swept like a great tidal wave
+    Of anguish, all Hell's anarchy of grief
+    Set to a sounding fugue. Grim-throated rose
+    The awful hymn, and mingling with the wail
+    Of voices, pealed the cymbals' brassy clang;
+    The thunderous organs bellowed through the gloom,
+    And, rocking Hell's foundations, burst a blare
+    Of stormy trumpets crying: "Woe, woe, woe!"
+    Methought the angels must have wept to hear,
+    Methought their tears had dropt like healing rain
+    Upon the fires of torment, and assuaged
+    Their blazing wrath, so piteous was the strain.
+
+    The music ceased, the echoes sobbed away
+    Like a tumultuous sorrow, when, behold!
+    The black veil lifted from the mountain's crest,
+    And on its glorious summit flamed _the Star_!
+
+
+
+
+HYMN OF THE TOMB BUILDERS.
+
+
+    _They were three old men with hoary hair
+      And beards of wintry gray,
+    And they digged a grave in the yellow soil,
+    And they crooned this song as they plied their toil,
+      In the fading light of day:_
+
+    Hither ye bring your workmen,
+      Like tools that are broken and bent,
+    To pay your due to their cunning
+      After their skill is spent;
+    Hither ye bring them and lay them,
+      And go when your prayers are said,
+    Back where the stress of your living
+      Makes mock of the peace of your dead.
+
+    From the iron-paved roads of traffic,
+      From the shell-scarred fields of war,
+    From the lands of earth's burning girdle
+      To the snows of her uttermost star,
+    Ye bring in your sons and daughters
+      From the glare and the din of today,
+    Giving them back unto silence,
+      And sealing their lips with clay.
+
+    Some drunk with the wine of carnage,
+      Some clothed with the shreds of power,
+    Some stark from the fields of famine,
+      Some decked for the pleasaunce bower,
+    And all with their still clay fingers
+      To their cold clay bosoms laid
+    To sleep from æon to æon
+      At the lowly Sign of the Spade.
+
+    Afar through the quickening ages
+      Fell the first keen notes of strife,
+    And they held out their hands in the darkness
+      Toward that blatant boon called life;
+    And they heard the building of empires,
+      And the restless trampling of men,
+    And the dust that was made for heartbreak
+      Grew poignant even then.
+
+    Your bones they are moist with marrow,
+      And with milk your breasts are full;
+    Your hands they are strong and subtle,
+      And your life-blood never dull;
+    But fail at the sword or the plowshare,
+      Or fall at the forge or the wheel,
+    And ye only mar earth's bosom
+      With a wound that her dust will heal.
+
+    Hither ye bring your workmen,
+      And it's ever the tale retold
+    Of the useless tools of the builders,
+      Battered and broken and old;
+    Hither ye bring them and lay them,
+      And go when your prayers are said,
+    For the blood of your living is dearer
+      Than the idle dust of your dead.
+
+    _They were three old men with hoary hair
+      And beards of wintry gray,
+    And they shouldered their spades, for their work was done,
+    And they left behind at the set of sun
+      A grave in the yellow clay._
+
+
+
+
+THE TORNADO.
+
+
+    God let me fall from His hand
+    One day at His forge when the elemental world
+    Was shaping. I am but a breath from His great bellows,
+    But here among the workshops of mankind
+    I am a fateful scourge.
+
+    I tear red strips from the proud cities of men;
+    I name my passage the Highway of Instant Death;
+    I splinter world-old forests with my laugh,
+    And whirl the ancient snows of Hecla sheer into Orion's eyes.
+    I dance on the deep under the big Indian stars,
+    And wrap the water spout about my sinuous hips
+    As a dancer winds her girdle. The ocean's horrid crew,
+    The octopus, the serpent, and the shark, with the heart of a coward,
+    Plunge downward when they hear my feet above on the sea-floor,
+    And hide in their slimy coverts. Brave men pray upon the straining
+              decks
+    Till comes my mood to end them, and I strew the racing foam with
+              wreckage.
+
+    I am a breath from God's forge. I remember His awful workshop,
+    How the hot globes spun off into infinite darkness, as system by
+              system,
+    The universe was wrought; and then I remember the birth of the sun,
+    How God cried: "Let there be light!" and, blinding, bewildering,
+              exulting,
+    The great orb flamed from His furnace, and only the Creator stood
+              upright.
+    In that hour I fell from His hand.
+
+    I am a breath from God's forge,
+    And, being a part of creation, I shall also be a part of the end.
+    He has told me that there shall come a day
+    When the Seventh Angel shall open his last vial of wrath in the
+              mid-air,
+    And in that day I shall dance with the thunder, the lightning, and
+              the earthquake,
+    And, dancing, hear His voice cry out from Heaven's temple: "It is
+              done!"
+
+
+
+
+VOICES.
+
+
+_Earthquake._
+
+    I am a memory of cosmogony,
+    That first great hour of travail when the voice
+    Of God called suns and systems from the void;
+    I am the dream He dreams of that last day
+    When mountains by the roots shall be plucked up
+    And headlong flung into the raging sea!
+
+
+_Hurricane._
+
+    I am the breath that fills the organ pipes
+    When through the vast cathedral of the world
+    Death's stormy threnody sweeps, wave on wave,
+    The symboled note that one day will be blown
+    By a great angel standing in the sun,
+    At which the heaven and earth shall pass away!
+
+
+_Fire._
+
+    I am the letters of that fateful word
+    Writ with a flaming sword above the gates
+    Of Eden when God spelled the doom of man;
+    I am the wrath that on the judgment day
+    Shall waste the seas, and wither up the stars,
+    And roll the heavens together like a scroll!
+
+
+_God._
+
+    I am the earthquake, hurricane and fire!
+    Through them I speak with man as through the stars,
+    The dews, the flowers, and every gentler thing;
+    Some learn my lesson in the paths of peace;
+    Some con it low at desolation's knee;
+    Only the fool hath said: "There is no God!"
+
+
+
+
+A SONG FOR THE HILLS.
+
+
+    Here is the freedom men die for,--die for but never know;
+    Here is the peace they pray for shrined in eternal snow;
+    Down on the plain the city moans with a human cry,
+    But here there is naught but silence,--peace, and the wide, wide sky.
+
+    Here are the dawn's first footfalls, and the twilight's last farewell,
+    The benediction of starlight, and the moon's sweet canticle;
+    Here is one spot as God made it, far from the plainsman's range,
+    Or the march of the cycling seasons with their everlasting change.
+
+    Down on the plain the city moans with a human cry,
+    And the man-gnomes delve and burrow for gold till they drop and die;
+    But here there is naught for conquest and the spoiler stands at bay,
+    For God still keeps one playground where He and His whirlwinds play.
+
+
+
+
+ROMANY.
+
+
+    The city frets in the distance, lass,
+      The city so grim and gray,
+    A glare in the sky by night, my lass,
+      And a blot on the sky by day;
+    But we are out on the long white road,
+      And under the wide free sky,
+    And the song that was born in my heart today
+      Will sing there till I die.
+
+    The long white road and the wide free sky,
+      And the city far away;
+    A good-night kiss in the twilight, lass,
+      And a kiss at the break of day;
+    For light are the loads we bear, my lass,
+      By highway and hill and grove,
+    And the sunlight is all for life, my lass,
+      And the starlight all for love.
+
+
+
+
+IDOLS.
+
+
+I.
+
+    Mouths have they, but they speak not:
+      Yet something in the certainty of faith
+      To their disciples saith:
+    "Believe on me and vengeance I will wreak not."
+    The word that conquers death--
+      The immutable and boundless gift of grace--
+      Dwells in that stony face,
+    And every supplication answereth.
+    Mouths have they, but they speak not;
+      Yet one supernal will that shapes to suit
+    A great decree that can not be belied
+    Utters from voiceless lips those creeds that guide
+      The tribes that never heard
+      The living, saving Word,--
+    That have their dead gods and are satisfied.
+
+
+II.
+
+    Eyes have they, but they see not:
+      Yet the pagan builds his shrine,
+      And keeps his fires divine
+    Forever bright, nor darkly doubts there be not
+      Enough of grace and power
+      Within those eyes that glower
+    To read his soul. To him they are not blind,
+    For some dim, undefined
+      Reward of faith that thrills his untaught breast
+    Links up his baser mind
+    To the clear eyes of God that burn behind
+      The stony brow. It is a creed professed
+    Before a deity not quenched in space,
+      But one to whom his bands
+      Can lift adoring hands,
+    And see and touch and worship face to face.
+
+
+III.
+
+    Ears have they, but they hear not:
+      Yet the heathen kneel and pray,
+      Nor in their madness say:
+    "Thou art no god, and therefore I will fear not;
+      What if I disobey?
+      Thou art but stone or clay."
+    They hear not, but their worshippers impute
+    Them faculties to suit
+      The divination of the prayers they say;
+    And Christ, who understands
+    His children in all lands
+    When from the dark their dying souls have cried,
+      Shrines His great heart of love within the clod
+      The savage calls his god
+    And all idolatry is deified.
+
+
+
+
+ODE TO THE NEW CENTURY.
+
+
+    The dial has pointed the hour and the hour has rounded the day,
+      The day has finished the year that dies with a century's birth;
+    Eastward the morning stars sing as they go their way:
+      "Lo! the Great Mother travaileth, a king is born to the earth!
+    King of a hundred years, and king of a million tombs,
+      Sovereign of infinite joys, keeper of countless tears;
+    Peace to the throneless dead, hail to the ruler who comes,
+      King of a million tombs, and king of a hundred years!"
+
+    Time and his tenant Death, for the space of a moment's flight
+      Stand on the bare, black ridge dividing eternities twain;
+    One looks back to his realm all waste in the hopeless night,
+      One with the eyes of hope sees it rebuilded again.
+    Behind are the gray, gleaned fields with their worthless stubble of
+              graves,
+      Strewn with the thistles of sin, and the trampled chaff of desire;
+    Before are the acres of love, not furrowed by hands of slaves,
+      Not sown with sorrow and strife, not wasted with flood or with fire.
+
+    Great is the hour, my Soul, and great is the wonder to see;
+      Prophet-like dost thou look to yonder portentous sky
+    Where lo! the scroll is unfolding--the scroll of the great To Be:--
+      Look to the east, O Soul, and clear and strong be thine eye!
+    Look to the west where once waved the cherubic sword
+      Over man's Eden lost, and see in the heavens above
+    Not the angels of wrath bearing God's angry word,
+      But the angels of Mercy and Peace, the angels of Hope and of Love.
+
+    Great is the hour, O Soul, and great are the voices to hear--
+      Voices of choral stars, and the calling of deep unto deep
+    Like to the natal hour when rolling sphere upon sphere
+      Sprang from the bosom of God and sang of their limitless sweep!
+    Great is the hour, O Soul, and thou art a seer who looks
+      Far through the mystic night and seeth the great unseen,
+    Truth that to us is blind, and the lies of our prophets' books,
+      Heaven and Hell and the land called Life that lies between.
+
+    The region of shapes called Life, with shadows behind and before--
+      Shadows voiceless as Death, and dark as the sunless tomb,--
+    Shapes whose anguish and strife seem a glimpse of Hell's grim shore--
+      Shadows that gave them life and shadows that hail them home.
+    Great is the hour, O Soul, and great is the wonder to see!
+      Thou art alone with God as he writes on the future's page
+    Two words in letters of fire--(one Doom,--one Mystery,--
+      Alpha the last, and the first Omega) and names it an Age.
+
+[December 31, 1900.]
+
+
+
+
+A CLOWN'S PRELUDE.
+
+
+    Behold! I cover up this trail of tears
+    A moment's weakness left upon my cheek,
+    And hush my heart a little ere I speak
+    Lest the false note ring true on other ears;
+    The music rises and the empty cheers
+    Proclaim the harlequin, and lo! I stand
+    The painted fool again and kiss my hand
+    With jocund air to Folly's worshippers.
+    So day by day life's bitter bread is earned
+    With lips that smile and frame the mirthless joke,
+    And frailer grows the soul that once was strong,--
+    The joyless soul of one whose trade has turned
+    Life's tragic mantle to a jester's cloak,
+    Life's diapason to a jester's song.
+
+
+
+
+A LEGEND OF GOLD.
+
+
+    Lucifer craved one boon of God
+      After his fall, as his own to hold;
+    So He gave him a mite in heaven's sight,
+      But lo! the gift that He gave was--Gold.
+
+    And Lucifer wrought with the rugged ore
+      Till he fashioned it wondrous fair, and then
+    He set a price on the precious store,
+      And the price was the blood and tears of men.
+
+    Blood and tears! and the price was paid;
+      Blood was nothing, and tears were free;
+    And Lucifer smiled at the fools and said:
+      "Surely your souls should belong to me!"
+
+    So he offered the earth with its golden heart,
+      And the seas with their fleets from pole to pole;
+    And they looked with lust on the world-wide mart,
+      And said in their hearts,--"It is worth the soul!"
+
+    And kings were they, and they ruled right well;
+      Gorgeously sped their sovereign day ...
+    But Lucifer hath their souls in Hell,
+      And their gold and their empires--where are they?
+
+
+
+
+THE EAGLE AND THE FLOWER.
+
+
+    The eyrie clung to the shattered cliff
+      That the glacier's torrent thundered under;
+    And the unfledged eaglet's lifted eye
+    Looked out on the world of peak and sky
+          In silent wonder.
+
+    The mountain daisy, dainty white,
+      That grew by the side of the lofty eyrie,
+    Saw the young wings beat on the eagle's breast,
+    And the restless eyes in the fagot-nest
+          Grow grim and fiery.
+
+    The days went by and the wings grew strong,
+      And the crag-built home was at last deserted;
+    But, close to the nest that her love had left,
+    The daisy clung to the rocky cleft,
+          Half broken-hearted.
+
+    The days went by and the wan, white flower
+      Waited and watched in the autumn weather;
+    Far down the valley, far up the height,
+    The forest blazed, and a wizard light
+          Crowned hill and heather.
+
+    And he came at last one eventide,
+      His breast was pierced and his plumes were gory;
+    For home is best when we come to die,
+    And we love the love that our youth puts by,--
+          And there's my story.
+
+
+
+
+SUNSET IN THE CITY.
+
+
+    Down at the end of the iron lane
+      I see the sunset's glare,
+    And the red bars lie across the sky
+      Like steps of a wondrous stair.
+
+    Below, the throng, with unlifted eye,
+      Sweeps on in its heedless flight
+    Where the street's black funnel pours its tide
+      Out into the deepening night.
+
+    And no one has stopped to read God's word
+      On the fiery heavens scrolled
+    Save an old man dreaming of boyhood's days,
+      And a boy who would fain be old.
+
+
+
+
+THE ADMIRAL'S RETURN.
+
+(Written on the occasion of the bringing of the body of Admiral John
+Paul Jones to the United States for reburial.)
+
+
+    Brave ships are these that bear thee home again
+      From under far-off skies--brave flags that fly
+      Above the deck whereon thine ashes lie,
+    Waiting their urn beyond the alien main;
+    The nations pause to view thy funeral train
+      As slowly moving up 'twixt sea and sky
+      It comes with stately pomp, and Liberty
+    Holds out her hands and calls thy name in vain.
+    And yet, mayhap, in vision vague and sweet,
+      Another sight thou seest beyond the boast
+    Of patriot pride--beside the new-born fleet,
+      Spectral and strange, no guest for such a host,
+    Yet making thy home-coming all complete,
+      The old "Bon Homme Richard's" unlaid ghost.
+
+
+
+
+THE DUNGEONED ANARCHIST.
+
+
+    He crouches, voiceless, in his tomb-like cell,
+      Forgot of all things save his jailer's hate
+      That turns the daylight from his iron grate
+    To make his prison more and more a hell;
+    For him no coming day or hour shall spell
+      Deliverance, or bid his soul await
+      The hand of Mercy at his dungeon gate:
+    He would not know even though a kingdom fell!
+    The black night hides his hand before his eyes,--
+      That grim, clenched hand still burning with the sting
+    Of royal blood; he holds it like a prize,
+      Waiting the hour when he at last shall fling
+    The stain in God's face, shrieking as he dies:
+      "Behold the unconquered arm that slew a king!"
+
+
+
+
+AT THE PLAY.
+
+
+    The poet painted a woman's soul,
+      Human, trusting and kind,
+    And then he drew the soul of a man,
+      Brutal and base and blind;
+
+    And the woman loved in the old, old way,
+      And the man in the way of men,
+    And the poet christened their lives "A Play,"
+      And he sat down to watch it, and then ...
+
+    A woman rose with a bitter laugh,
+      And her eyes were as dry as stone
+    As she bowed her head at the poet's stall
+      And said in a strange, cold tone:
+
+    "He paints the best who has dipped his brush
+      In the heart's own blood, they say;
+    You took my love and you took my life,
+      But you gave the world--a play!"
+
+
+
+
+THE DERELICT.
+
+
+    North and south with the fickle tides,
+      With the wind from east to west,
+    The death-ship follows her track of doom,
+      But finds no port or rest.
+
+    Day after day the far white sails
+      Come up and glimmer and die,
+    And night by night the twinkling lights
+      Crawl down the distant sky.
+
+    Day after day her black hull lifts
+      And sinks with the swell's long roll,
+    And the white birds cling to her rotting shrouds
+      Like prayers of a stricken soul,
+
+    But ever the death-ship keeps her track
+      While the ships of men sail on,
+    For God is her skipper and helmsman, too,
+      And knoweth her port alone.
+
+
+
+
+ZOROASTER.
+
+
+I.
+
+    The light of a new day was on his brow,
+    The faith of a great dawn was on his tongue;
+    Out of the dark he raised his voice and sung
+    The high Messiah who should overthrow
+    The gods that Superstition crowned with might
+    And set above the world,--the coming Christ
+    Whose unshed blood should be the holy tryst
+    'Twixt man and his lost Eden, washing white
+    From his rebellious soul the serpent's blight.
+
+
+II.
+
+    The fire that on the Magi's altars glowed
+    Spake to his soul in symbols and expressed
+    The immortal purity that without rest
+    Strives with the mortal grossness whose abode
+    Is in the heart. Their symboled fire showed One
+    Whose spirit on the altar of the world
+    Burns ceaselessly,--where, if all vice be hurled,
+    It shall be purged with fire that shall atone,--
+    Christ's love the flame, man's sin th' alchemic stone.
+
+
+III.
+
+
+    The light of a new day was on his brow,
+    The faith of a great dawn was on his tongue;
+    Above the old Chaldean myths he sung
+    The message of the peace that men should know
+    Through God's own Son. Out of the hopeless night
+    He saw the star of Bethlehem arise,
+    And o'er the wasted gates of Paradise
+    Beheld it mount, and heard, to hail its light,
+    The everlasting groan of hell's despite.
+
+
+
+
+THE NORTH WIND.
+
+I.
+
+    Wind of the North, I know your song
+      Out on the frozen plain,
+    But here in the city's streets you seem
+      Only a cry of pain.
+
+
+II.
+
+    I know the note of your lusty throat
+      Where the black boughs toss and roar,
+    But here it is part of the old, old cry
+      Of the hungry, homeless poor.
+
+
+III.
+
+    I know the song that you sing to God,
+      Joyous and high and wild,
+    But here where His creatures herd and die,
+      'Tis the sob of a little child.
+
+
+
+
+WHERE IS GOD?
+
+(Written during the hostilities in the Far East in 1900.)
+
+
+    Hard by the gates of Eden,
+      Where God first walked with man,
+    In the light of the new creation,
+      Ere the race of Cain began,
+    The world-wide hosts have gathered,
+      And their swords are drawn to slay:
+    God was with man in Eden,
+      But where is God today?
+
+    From the ice-bound steppes of the Cossack;
+      From the home of the fleur-de-lis,
+    From the vineyards that crown the Rhineland
+      To the shores of the phosphor sea,
+    The clans have gathered for battle,
+      And each for the signal waits,
+    While a million swords are flaming
+      At Eden's Eastern gates.
+
+    By the sign of the yellow dragon,
+      By the tri-color's bars of light;
+    By the double-throated eagle
+      That screams with the lust of fight,
+    By the Union Jack of Britannia,
+      By Columbia's stars and bars,
+    They pray to the god of battle
+      For the meed of a hundred wars.
+
+    Hard by the gates of Eden,
+      Where the passion flower of strife
+    First bloomed at its blood-red altar
+      At the price of a brother's life,
+    The children of Cain are gathered
+      To plunder and burn and slay:
+    God was with man in Eden,
+      But where is God today?
+
+
+
+
+THE STORY OF MOSES.
+
+
+    This is the story of Moses,
+      The earliest scribe that we keep:
+    Void was the earth and formless,
+      And dark was the face of the deep,
+    Till God's word flashed in lightning,
+      Beautiful, bountiful, bright,
+    And night was the name of the darkness,
+      And day was the name of the light.
+
+    This is the story of Moses--
+      (Doubt it, if ever you can)--
+    The world was too good to begin with,
+      So God made Adam, the man;
+    And for Adam He made the woman,
+      And He gave them laws to obey;
+    And, lastly, He sent the serpent
+      To follow and tempt and betray.
+
+    This is the story of Moses--
+      Eve got a man from the Lord,
+    And his name was Cain, and another
+      Called Abel, the evil-starred;
+    And the brothers quarreled at their worship,
+      And Abel, the meek, was slain,
+    And Death shook hands with the slayer,
+      His first and best friend, Cain.
+
+    This is the story of Moses
+      Of how our people began,
+    Of the broken law and the bloodshed--
+      First fruits of the God-sent man;
+    This is the story of Moses,
+      The earliest scribe who writ,
+    And all the scribes who are writing
+      Don't vary the tale a whit.
+
+
+
+
+PARTHENOPE TO ULYSSES.
+
+
+    O king! what is the quest that evermore
+      Foredooms thy feet to roam, yet blinds thine eyes?
+      Why seek ye still for life's imperfect prize,
+    Or turn thy weary sail from shore to shore,
+    When here thou layest aside the ills of yore
+      To calm thy soul with dreams? Let it suffice--
+      This heart-sick burden of the worldly-wise--
+    That ye have borne it and the task is o'er,
+    Here see the world fade like a spark of fire,
+      While all thy restless ways grow full of peace,
+    And wear the fittest crown for them that tire
+      Their souls with life's unraveled mysteries,--
+    Above the old red roses of desire
+      The languid lotus of desire's surcease!
+
+
+
+
+DEATH.
+
+
+    I am the outer gate of life where sit
+      Faith and Unfaith, those two interpreters
+    That spell in diverse ways what God has writ
+      In symbols on the archway of the years.
+
+    Backward I swing for many feet to pass;
+      Some come in stormy haste, some grave and slow,
+    And all like windy shadows on the grass:
+      Beyond my pale I know not where they go.
+
+
+
+
+THE LIGHT CELESTIAL.
+
+(Written on the ter-centenary of John Milton, December 9, 1908.)
+
+
+    Immortal singer, in whose glorious brain
+      Unearthly melodies were born to make
+      A nocturn for the blessed Master's sake,
+    I see thee pass through heaven's gates again;
+    I hear thee singing that majestic strain,
+      Which soothed the heart affliction could not break,
+      And proved the faith no worldly ills could shake;
+    And then I see thee join God's holy train,
+      But, wonder of all wonders! where the light
+      Breaks from a thousand suns, the seraphs, shod
+    With flaming sandals, lead thee; and my sight
+      Dims with the vision, till fresh from His rod,
+    I see thee lift those orbs, once quenched in night,
+      And gaze into the steadfast eyes of God!
+
+
+
+
+CUPID TO A SKULL.
+
+
+    I came your way in the years gone by,
+      In the summers that now are old,
+    And then there was light in your beaming eye,
+    And love was living and hopes were high
+      At the Sign of the Heart of Gold.
+
+    I come today and the lights are fled,
+      And the trail of the mold and rust
+    Has saddened the hall where the feast was spread,
+    And love has vanished and youth is dead
+      At the Sign of the Heart of Dust.
+
+
+
+
+THE PASSING RACE.
+
+
+I.
+
+    Silent as ever, stoic as of old,
+    The scattered nomads of that dusky race
+    Whose story shall forever be untold,
+    Sit mid the ruins of their dwelling place
+    And watch the white man's empire grow apace.
+    Passive as one who knows his earthly doom,
+    And only waits with calm but hopeless face
+    The while the seasons go with blight and bloom,
+    So live they day by day beside their nation's tomb.
+
+
+II.
+
+    In the deep woods and by the rolling streams
+    They made their home, and knew no other clime;
+    They lived their lives and dreamed barbaric dreams,
+    Nor heard the menace of relentless Time
+    As on his thunderous legions swept sublime
+    Bearing the torch of progress through the night,
+    Till lo! the primal wastes were all a-chime
+    With traffic's strange new music, and the might
+    Of busy hordes that wrought to spread the new-born light.
+
+
+III.
+
+    They were strange wanderers on life's sad deep,
+    And paused a moment in God's mystic plan
+    A little vigil on time's shores to keep,
+    Then passed forever from the tribes of man.
+    They heard a voice and a strange face did scan,
+    And what of conquest or of kingly sway
+    Had filled their dreams, they gave the white man's clan,
+    And with the dawning of a wondrous day,
+    They spread their sails again and, voiceless, passed away.
+
+
+IV.
+
+    Silent as ever, stoic as of old,
+    Their children sit with empty hands to wait
+    The sequel that the future shall unfold,--
+    The unwritten "Finis" of remorseless fate.
+    Vanquished they stand before oblivion's gate,
+    Knowing that soon the everlasting seal
+    Of destiny shall all obliterate
+    Their finished story, which, for woe or weal,
+    Shall be with Him who writ to hide or to reveal.
+
+
+
+
+KENOTAPHION.
+
+
+    O wanderer! whoever thou mayest be,
+      I beg of thee to pass in silence here
+      And leave me with my empty sepulchre
+    Beside the ceaseless turmoil of the sea;
+    Pass me as one whom life's old tragedy
+      Hath made distraught--who now in dreams doth keep
+      His cherished dead, unmindful of her sleep
+    In ocean's bosom locked eternally!
+    Scorn not the foolish grave that I have made
+      Beside the deep sea of my soul's unrest,
+    But let me hope that when the storms are stayed
+      My phantom ship shall sail from out the west
+    Bringing the boon for which I long have prayed--
+      The broken vigil and the ended quest.
+
+
+
+
+THE RED CROSS.
+
+
+    St. George, I learned to love thee in my youth
+      When of thy deeds I read in deathless song;
+      And now, when I behold the dragon Wrong
+    Hard by the castle-gates of Love and Truth,
+    I feel the world's great need of thee, forsooth,
+      To strike the heavy blow delayed too long.
+      Then turning from the mediæval throng,
+    Where thou wert bravest, yet the first in ruth,
+    I watch thy votaries by land and sea
+      Armed with thy sacred sign go forth to fight
+    Anew the battle of humanity
+      Beneath the flag of mercy and of right;
+    No holier band a holier realm e'er trod
+    Than this--the world's knight-errantry of God!
+
+
+
+
+MIDSUMMER NOON.
+
+
+    Through shimmering skies the big clouds slowly sail;
+      A faint breeze lingers in the rustling beech;
+      Atop the withered oak with vagrant speech
+    The brawling crows call down the sleepy vale;
+    Unseen the glad cicadas trill their tale
+      Of deep content in changeless vibrant screech,
+      And where the old fence rambles out of reach,
+    The drowsy lizard hugs the shaded rail.
+    Warm odors from the hayfield wander by,
+      Afar the homing reaper's noontide tune
+    Floats on the mellow stillness like a sigh;
+      One butterfly, ghost of a vanished June,
+    Soars dimly where in realms of purple sky
+      Dips the wan crescent of the vapory moon.
+
+
+
+
+THE SNOW MAN.
+
+
+    Poor shape grotesque that careless hands have wrought!
+      Frail wistful thing, left gaping at the sun
+      With empty grin, 'tis well no blood shall run
+    Within thy frozen veins, no kindling thought
+    Light up those eyeless sockets wherein naught
+      But hate could dwell if once they flashed the fire
+      Of being, or the doom-gift of Desire
+    Should curse thy life, unbidden and unsought.
+    Poor snow man with thy tattered hat awry,
+      And broomstick musket toppling from thy hands,
+    'Tis well thou hast no language to decry
+      Thy poor creator or his vain commands;
+    No tear to shed that thou so soon must die,
+      No voice to lift in prayer where no god understands!
+
+
+
+
+OUR SISTER OF THE STREETS.
+
+
+    She comes not with the conscious grace
+      Of gentle, winsome womanhood,
+    Nor yet, withal, the flaunting face
+      Of men and women understood,
+    But rather as a thing apart,
+      A wind-blown petal of a rose,
+    A specter with a specter's heart
+      That cometh once--and goes.
+
+    Her eyes some trace of cold, white light
+      Within their haunted depths still hold,
+    Though hunger's fever made them bright,
+      And lack of pity made them cold.
+    We know her when she passes by,
+      Whom no one loves or chides or greets--
+    The woman with the cold, bright eye--
+      Our sister of the streets.
+
+    We know the tawdry arts she tries,
+      The tint of cheek, the gold of hair,
+    To mimic nature for the eyes
+      Of those who scorn her paltry care,
+    And spurn those charms--if aught abide
+      Within her beauty's narrowed scope--
+    Now touched with less a wanton's pride
+      Than with an outcast's hope.
+
+    We know her in the blatant crowd,
+      And feel her, as we feel, in fine,
+    The eyes' remembrance of a cloud,
+      The lips' faint bitterness of brine;
+    We know her when she passes by,
+      Whom no one loves or chides or greets--
+    The woman with the cold, bright eye--
+      Our sister of the streets.
+
+
+
+
+THE EARTHWORM AND THE STAR.
+
+
+    An Earthworm once loved a Star. In the hush of the summer night,
+    He lay quite close to the ground and gazed on its golden light;
+    He looked from his house of clay, and dreamed of wonderful things,
+    Till, lo! (as he thought) his longing brought forth miraculous wings.
+
+    The Butterfly soared in the air, straight toward the beckoning spark;
+    His wings grew weary and chill, but the Star smiled through the dark;
+    His wings grew heavy and cold, the wings that he dreamed love gave,
+    And he folded them there in the starlight, and the dust became his
+              grave.
+
+
+
+
+THE RIDDLE OF THE SPHINX.
+
+
+    From age to age the haggard human train
+      Creeps wearily across Time's burning sands
+      To look into her face, and lift weak hands
+    In supplication to the calm disdain
+    That crowns her stony brow.... But all in vain
+      The riddle of mortality they try:
+      Doom speaks still from her unrelenting eye--
+    Doom deep as passion, infinite as pain.
+    From age to age the voice of Love is heard
+      Pleading above the tumult of the throng,
+    But evermore the inexorable word
+      Comes like the tragic burden of a song.
+    "The answer is the same," the stern voice saith:
+    "Death yesterday, today and still tomorrow--Death!"
+
+
+
+
+THE MOTHERS.
+
+
+    Beyond the tumult and the proud acclaim,
+      Beyond the circle where the glory beats
+      With withering light upon the mighty seats,
+    They hear the far-resounding trump of fame;
+    On other lips they hear the one-loved name
+      In vaunting or derision, and they weep
+      To know that they shall never lull to sleep
+    Those tired heads, crowned with desolating flame.
+    Beyond the hot arena's baleful glow,
+      Beyond the towering pomp they dimly see,
+    They sit and watch the fateful pageants go
+      Through war's red arch, or up to Calvary,
+    The First Love still within their hearts impearled--
+    Mothers of all the masters of the world!
+
+
+
+
+IN THE NIGHT.
+
+
+_The Child._
+
+    I hear you weeping, mother, dear,--
+      I hear you wake and weep;
+    What brings the tears into your eyes
+      When you should be asleep?
+    I hear my name upon your lips;
+      What is it that you say
+    Of one who broke a trusting heart,
+      But now is far away?
+
+
+_The Mother._
+
+    I weep for you, my pretty lass,
+      Frail flower of love unblessed,
+    Because I can not always hold
+      You close unto my breast;
+    I weep that you some day must go
+      Alone your way to find,
+    For, oh, you have your mother's eyes,
+      And men are seldom kind!
+
+
+
+
+FORGIVEN.
+
+
+    I might have met his anger with a smile
+      For so it was that I had set my heart
+    To mask deception with a wanton's guile,
+      And save the tears that now begin to start.
+
+    I might have worn my guilty crown of thorn,--
+      Yea, even worn it gladly like a prize;
+    But, oh! more bitter than his rage or scorn,
+      He left me with forgiveness in his eyes.
+
+
+
+
+A WOMAN, AND SOME MEN.
+
+
+    Once in a dream of Babylon
+      I sat with Lilith and Cain
+    At the world-old drama, "From God to God,"
+      In the House of Things Profane;
+    Trumpets and lights, and the players
+      Swung to the stage, and then
+    I saw as I looked in their faces
+      A woman, and some men.
+
+    Men with the eyes of the psalmist,
+      Men with the hearts of Saul,
+    Strong with the wine of valor,
+      But faint with the woman's thrall;
+    Calm were her eyes as she held them
+      Charmed to her soulless sway,
+    For she had the face of the Magdalene,
+      And the heart of Aholiba.
+
+    Wine and kisses and gusty words,
+      Kisses and wine again,
+    And her lips and brow were red with stains
+      From the hairy mouths of men,
+    Red as the stain on the brow of Cain
+      That burned with his Maker's hate,
+    Or the lips of the witch that Adam loved
+      Ere God revealed his mate.
+
+    Trumpets and lights and the players
+      Swung from the stage, and then
+    The curtain fell on the drama
+      Of a woman and some men;
+    While cleaving the dome of the temple
+      Fell the Avenger's rod,
+    And lo! when I looked again I saw
+      We were face to face with God.
+
+    And Lilith, the witch, dropped down and prayed
+      That her child a soul might have,
+    And the blood red stain on the brow of Cain
+      Be wiped out in the grave;
+    And this was my dream of Babylon
+      When I sat with Lilith and Cain
+    At the world-old drama, "From God to God,"
+      In the House of Things Profane.
+
+
+
+
+THE NEWLY DEAD.
+
+
+I.
+
+    With the light just quenched in their eyes
+    They lie in their graves 'neath the skies,
+    And the fresh clod rests
+    Heavy upon their breasts.
+    The white rose dies
+    Upon the new-made mound, and underneath
+    The lily shrivels in the shriveling hand.
+    Pale guests of sovereign Death,
+    They sought their silent beds at his command,
+    And it seems
+    Strange that their life-long dreams
+    Shall find them no more,--never bid them arise
+    And go forth with a glory in their eyes.
+
+
+II.
+
+    Still, voiceless, cold,
+    They lie in their shrouds and hold
+    The crumbling links that make
+    A chain for Memory's sake,
+    Broken, alas! too soon.
+    Blithe morn and brazen noon
+    And eve with garb of gray and gold,
+    Know them no more in the dark ways they take.
+    They have forgot the sun,
+    And the fiery worlds that run
+    About it. Something--(what, let no man say,)--
+    Begot of mystery is in mystery done:
+    The rest shall be with them and God alway.
+
+
+
+
+THE FIRST BORN.
+
+
+I.
+
+    "He has eyes like the Christ,"
+      The mother said, and smiled;
+    "He will be wise and good,
+      My wondering little child.
+    God grant him strength to do
+      Whate'er his tasks may be,
+    But spare him, if Thou wilt,
+      O, spare him Calvary!"
+
+
+II.
+
+    Grim where the black bars cast
+      Their shadows o'er his bed,
+    He waits to pay the cost
+      Of blood his hands have shed.
+    The mother kneels and sobs:
+      "God, he shall always be,
+    In spite of Cain's red brand,
+      A stainless child to me."
+
+
+
+
+THE VOICE OF THE NORTH.
+
+
+    You have builded your ships in the sun-lands,
+      And launched them with song and wine;
+    They are boweled with your stanchest engines,
+      And masted with bravest pine;
+    You have met in your closet councils,
+      With your plans and your prayers to God
+    For a fortunate wind to waft you
+      Where never a foot has trod.
+
+    And now you follow the polar star
+      To the seat of the old Norse Kings,
+    Past the death-white halls of Valhalla,
+      Where the Norn to the tempest sings--
+    Follow the steady needle
+      That cleaves to its steady star
+    To the uttermost realms of Odin
+      And the warlike thunderer, Thor.
+
+    Far through the icy silence,
+      Where the glacier's teeth hang white,
+    And even the sun-god Baldur,
+      Looks down in vague affright,
+    You flutter like startled spectres,
+      With a prayer on your lips for the goal--
+    To stand for one thrilling moment
+      At the awful, nameless Pole.
+
+    But lo! in that hour shall greet you,
+      At the end of your perilous path,
+    A mockery far more bitter
+      Than the sting of the frost king's wrath,
+    For this is the meed you shall gather
+      In the lands no man has trod:
+    The finger that beckoned you onward
+      Shall lift and point to God!
+
+1903
+
+
+
+
+TO C. 33.
+
+(Oscar Wilde.)
+
+
+    I gazed upon thee desolate and heard
+      Thine anguished cry when fell the iron gin
+    That all but broke thy soul, yet gave thy word
+      The strength to ask forgiveness of thy sin.
+
+    I saw thee fleeing from the cruel light
+      Of thine own fame; I saw thee hide thy face
+    In alien dust to cover up the blight
+      Upon thy brow that time may yet erase.
+
+    I knew thy creed, although thy lips were mute;
+      I knew the gods thou didst not dare to own;
+    I knew the Upas poison at the root
+      Of thy last flower of song, in prison blown.
+
+    And out of all thy woe there came to me
+      This miracle of dogma, like a cry:
+    "No law but freedom for the vagrant bee--
+      No love but summer for the butterfly."
+
+
+
+
+SILENCE.
+
+
+    I am the word that lovers leave unsaid,
+      The eloquence of ardent lips grown mute,
+    The mourning mother's heart-cry for her dead,
+      The flower of faith that grows to unseen fruit.
+
+    I am the speech of prophets when their eyes
+      Behold some splendid vision of the soul;
+    The song of morning stars, the hills' replies,
+      The far call of the immaterial pole.
+
+    And, since I must be mateless, I shall win
+      One boon beyond the meed of common clay:
+    My life shall end where other lives begin,
+      And live when other lives have passed away.
+
+
+
+
+COLUMBUS' LAST VOYAGE.
+
+(Written on the exhumation and reburial in Spain of the bones of
+Christopher Columbus.)
+
+
+    Once more upon the ocean's heaving breast
+      He lays his head, not like the lover bold
+      Who in the brave, chivalric days of old
+    Wooed from her lips the secret of the West,
+    But like a tired man going to his rest,
+      No hopes to thrill, no yearnings to inspire,
+      No tasks to burden, and no toil to tire,
+    No morn to waken to a day of quest.
+    Again upon the trackless deep,--again
+      About him as of yore the wild winds play;
+    Behind him lies the world he gave to men,
+      Before a grave in old Castile for aye:
+    Peace, winds and tides! Be calm, thou guardian sky,--
+    The lordliest dust of earth is passing by!
+
+
+
+
+ATONEMENT.
+
+
+    You were a red rose then, I know,
+      Red as her wine--yea, redder still,--
+    Say rather her blood; and ages ago
+      (You know how destiny hath its will)
+    I placed you deep in her gorgeous hair,
+    And left you to wither there.
+
+    Wine and blood and a red, red rose,--
+      Feast and song and a long, long sleep;--
+    And which of us dreamed at the drama's close
+      That the unforgetful years would keep
+    Our sin and their vengeance laid away
+    As a gift to this bitter day?
+
+    Now you are white as the mountain snow,
+      White as the hand that I fold you in,
+    And none but the angels of God may know
+      That either has once been stained with sin;
+    It was blood and wine in the old, old years,
+    But now it is only tears.
+
+    And so at the end of our several ways
+      We have met once more, and the truth is clear
+    That our heart's own blood no surer pays
+      For our sin in the past than atonement here;
+    But the end has come as God knows best:
+    Now we shall be at rest.
+
+
+
+
+THE POET SHEPHERD.
+
+
+    Down in the vale the lazy sheep
+      Are roaming at their will,
+    But I would be away to weep
+      Upon the windy hill,
+
+    For Summer's song is in my heart,
+      Her kiss is on my brow,
+    As here I kneel alone, apart,
+      To consecrate our vow.
+
+    Ah, doubly poor the gift shall be
+      That links my soul with hers,
+    For she has given her all to me
+      While I can give but tears!
+
+
+
+
+OUR DAILY BREAD.
+
+
+    "Give us this day our daily bread!" O prayer
+      By Jesus taught, thou hast become a cry
+    For starveling mouths in Famine's ghastly lair--
+      A beggar's plaint when Dives passes by.
+
+    We have forsook the Temple of the Soul
+      To carp with sordid tradesmen face to face;
+    No more we hear the Sinaian thunders roll,
+      Or Jesus preaching in the market-place.
+
+    The money-changers flaunt their silks and gold;
+      Within the Temple gates they ply their trade,
+    Forgetful of the Voice that cried of old:
+      "A den of thieves my Father's house is made!"
+
+
+
+
+A MOTHER TO THE SEA.
+
+
+    You are blue, you are blue like the sky,
+      Cruel and cold and blue,
+    And I turn from you, voiceless sea,
+      To a sky that is voiceless, too.
+
+    Upward the vast blue arch,
+      Downward the blue abyss,
+    With a line of foam where your lips
+      Meet in a passionless kiss.
+
+    But the silence is breaking my heart,
+      And tears cannot comfort me
+    With God in His cold blue sky,
+      And my boy in the cold blue sea.
+
+
+
+
+THE FEAST OF THE PASSIONS.
+
+
+    It wouldn't be fair to Belshazzar
+      When speaking of madness and mirth,
+    To draw from his revel a moral
+      For conscienceless sin in the earth,
+    For 'tis certain the King of Chaldea
+      Took note of the hand on the wall,
+    But here at the Feast of the Passions
+      We never take heed at all.
+
+    The same gods grin at the banquet--
+      The idols of silver and gold--
+    While we drink from the cups of the Temple
+      As they did in the days of old,
+    But the finger of God is unheeded,
+      His warning misunderstood,
+    As "Mene" is written in lightning,
+      And "Tekel" inscribed in blood.
+
+    No lesson of Nebuchadnezzar
+      Turned out with his swinish kin
+    Creeps in like a baneful vision
+      At the Babylonian din;
+    We have stilled the tongue of our Daniel
+      Lest sudden he rise and cry:
+    "Behold! thy kingdom is numbered;
+      This night shall Belshazzar die!"
+
+    So it wouldn't be just to Belshazzar,
+      When speaking of madness and mirth,
+    To hold up his feast as a warning
+      To conscienceless sin in the earth,
+    For 'tis certain the King of Chaldea
+      Took note of the hand on the wall,
+    But here at the Feast of the Passions
+      We never take heed at all.
+
+
+
+
+THE HUMAN WORLD.
+
+
+    Here is one picture of the human world:
+    An unreaped field and Death, the harvester,
+    Taking his rest beside a gathered sheaf
+    Of poppy and white lilies. At his side
+    Passion, with pilfered hour-glass in her hand
+    Jarring the sluggish sands to haste their flow.
+
+
+
+
+THE VOW FORSWORN.
+
+
+    Unweariedly he watches for the sign,
+      The sign I promised from the farthest goal,
+    My lover of a world no longer mine,
+      My human lover with his human soul.
+
+    Unweariedly he waits from day to day,
+      Nor knows, as I know now, that when we meet,
+    'Twill be as dewdrop on the hawthorn spray,--
+      The ultimate of God at last complete.
+
+    He still remembers that my eyes were blue,
+      Still dreams the autumn russet of my hair;
+    "In God's own time," he said, "I'll come to you;
+      You will be waiting; I will find you there!"
+
+    But now I know that he must never hear
+      The message that I promised to impart,
+    For should I breathe the secret in his ear
+      His soul would hearken--but 'twould break his heart!
+
+
+
+
+CONFESSION.
+
+
+    As one, a poet of a fairy's train,
+      Might sit beside a violet's stem and view
+      Its opening petals, watch the wondrous blue
+    Thrill through their fibers, and their secret gain
+    Of how the earth and sky and wind and rain
+      Had given them life and form and scent and hue,--
+      So I have gazed into the eyes of you,
+    Those rare blue eyes, and have not looked in vain;
+    For they have told me all that I would know,
+      Even as the violets their secret tell
+    Unto the wistful spirits of the grove--
+      Ay, more than this, for, in their tender glow,
+    I've learned their secret, found their winsome spell,
+      The sweet and simple message of their love.
+
+
+
+
+LOVE AND ART.
+
+
+I.
+
+    Eagle-heart, child-heart, bonnie lad o' dreams,
+    Far away thy soul hears passion-throated Art
+        Singing where the future lies
+        Wrapped in hues of Paradise,
+        Pleading with her poignant note
+        That forever seems to float
+    Farther down the vista that is calling to thy heart.
+        Hearken! From the heights
+        Where thy soul alights
+    Bend thine ear to listen for the lute of Love is sighing:
+        "Eagle-heart, child-heart,
+        Love is love, and art is art;
+        Answer while thy lips are red;
+        Wilt thou have a barren bed?
+        Choose between us which to wed:
+    Answer, for thy bride awaits, and fragile hours are flying!"
+
+
+II.
+
+    Eagle-heart, child-heart, bonnie lad o' dreams,
+    Far away thy soul hears Love's enraptured strain,
+        Calling with her plaintive note,
+        Pleading lute and pensive oat,
+    Burning, yearning, ever turning back to one refrain:
+        "Choose between us which to wed;
+          Love is love, and art is art;
+        Wilt thou have a barren bed?
+          Joyless mate and bloodless heart?
+        She will bring thee for her dower
+          Shrunken limb and shriveled breast,
+        Bitter thralldom, bootless power,
+          Days and nights of endless quest,
+        She will take thee heart and brain,
+          Hold thee with a vampire charm,
+        Kiss thee cold in every vein,
+          Drink thy blood to make her warm!"
+
+
+III.
+
+    Eagle-heart, child-heart, bonnie lad o' dreams,
+    Far away thy soul hears passion-throated Art
+        Singing from her peaks of snow,
+        Wrapped in pale, unearthly glow,
+        Pleading with her poignant note
+        That forever seems to float
+    Farther down the vista that is calling to thy heart.
+        Hearken! From the heights
+        Where thy soul alights
+    Lift thy head to listen for the voice of Art is calling:
+        "Eagle-heart, child-heart,
+        Love is love, and art is art,
+        Answer while thy soul is strong;
+        Love is brief, but art is long;
+        Love is sighs, but art is song;
+    Answer, for thy bride awaits, and moonless night is falling!"
+
+
+
+
+THE SONG OF THE DYNAMO.
+
+
+    _I have been kissed by the Priestess of the Thin and Deadly Blood--
+      With the kiss that men call Lightning, and yet I did not die,
+    For the kiss was a message from God; I felt it and understood,
+    And I knew how He looked on the cosmic light and called it "Good";
+      I thrilled with a vibrant joy; I hummed with ecstasy._
+
+    Men hear me sing but they know not the source of my song;
+    I hold them enthralled with my mysterious eyes;
+    They quiver when I purr with the voice of a wanton woman;
+    They touch me and fall dead.
+    I am a dream of the Creator made visible;
+    My voice is an echo of the Voice that taught
+    The morning stars their choral hymn;
+    The force that binds me to the marts of men
+    Is the force that holds the planets in a leash while God
+    Drives them in glittering galaxy around the sun.
+
+    Here I am a weakling's symbol of a power
+    That spins the luminous girdle of Saturn in sure hands,
+    And frames the awful face of God in the shifting boreal light.
+    My soul is destiny and immortality;
+    It flashes in the eyes of the tempest, glows along
+    The phosphorescent billows where the hand of the Almighty
+    Is laid for a moment on the breast of the sea,
+    And the sea smiles;
+    My soul is the wingless word
+    That flies from zone to zone and speaks suddenly out of the void.
+
+    In the years that are to be
+    I shall soar like an evil bird over the warring camps of men,
+    And spew destroying poison.
+    I shall be the sinew of a strange wing,--
+    A wing that shall bear men into the forge of the thunder and the
+              lightning.
+    But when I fail the groundlings shall look up
+    And see their brothers through the ether plunge,
+    Stricken, a haggard rout of flame-flotillas of the sun!
+
+    In the years that are to come
+    I shall be a servant in the house of men;
+    I shall breathe unutterable music on the spindle and the loom;
+    I shall sing, exultant, with the choristers of dreams fulfilled,
+    And light shall be bound like sandals on my feet.
+
+    _I have been kissed by the Priestess of the Thin and Deadly Blood--
+      With the kiss that men call Lightning, and yet I did not die,
+    For the kiss was a message from God; I felt it and understood,
+    And I knew how He looked on the cosmic light and called it "Good";
+      I thrilled with a vibrant joy; I hummed with ecstasy._
+
+
+
+
+THE GOLD FIELDS.
+
+
+    Here is a tale the North Wind sang to me:
+      Hell hath set Mammon o'er a frozen land,
+      Crowned him with gold, put gold into his hand,
+    And men forsake their God to bow the knee
+    Again unto this world-old deity
+      Whose rule is wheresoe'er man's feet go forth,
+      Whether they track the grim and icy North,
+    Or Afric's scorching sweeps of sandy sea.
+    About his throne they crawl and curse and weep;
+      The tenfold pangs of darkness and of cold
+    Bite at their hearts, and hound them as they creep,
+      Thief-like, to catch his scattered crumbs of gold;--
+    And over all still burns God's warning scroll:
+    "What profit it if ye shall lose your soul?"
+
+
+
+
+THE WOMAN ANSWERS.
+
+
+    What will I say when face to face with God
+    My naked soul shall come, seared with the stain
+    That men call sin? Why, God will understand;
+    He knew my pitiful story long before
+    My frail dust quickened with the breath of life;
+    He knew the mystery of that day of days
+    When, thrilled with virgin wonder, I should come
+    Bearing the lily of my stainless love
+    To plant upon the desert of desire.
+    I do not fear His judgment; He knows all.
+
+    I do not fear His judgment lest it be
+    That I shall look no more upon his face
+    Who taught my heart to love; and, surely, One
+    Who wrought a perfect note from these poor strings
+    Will not condemn to discord when the strain
+    Has reached the fullness of its harmony.
+
+    I do not fear His judgment, but I weep
+    For him who slew the lily with a kiss
+    Too full of passion's rapture; if I speak
+    In that transcendent moment when I stand
+    A sinful woman at the bar of God
+    To hear my sentence, I shall answer still:
+    "I loved him; that was all that I could do;
+    I love him; that is all that I can say!"
+
+
+
+
+THE MONASTERY.
+
+
+    Beyond the wall the passion flower is blooming,
+      Strange hints of life along the winds are blown;
+    Within, the cowled and silent men are kneeling
+      Before an image on a cross of stone,
+    And on their lifted faces, wan as death,
+    I read this simple message of their faith:
+          "The trail of flame is ashen,
+            And pleasure's lees are gray,
+          And gray the fruit of passion
+            Whose ripeness is decay;
+          The stress of life is rancor,
+            A madness born to slay;
+          They only miss its canker
+            Who live with God and pray."
+
+    Beyond the wall lies Babylon, the mighty;
+      Faint echoes of her songs come drifting by;
+    Within there is a hymn of consecration,
+      A psalm that lifts the fervent soul on high;
+    And yet, sometimes, where bows the hooded choir,
+    There comes the old call of the World's Desire:
+          "The rose's dust is ashen
+            Be petals white or red,
+          And vain the sighs of passion
+            When summer's light is fled;
+          The garden's fruitful measure
+            Is crowned with bloom today;
+          They only miss its treasure
+            Who turn their hearts away."
+
+
+
+
+THE PASSION PLAY.
+
+
+I.
+
+    Where falls the shadow of the Kofel cross
+    Athwart the Alpine snows, the rose of faith
+    Is blooming still in consecrated hearts,
+    And holy men another cross have hewn
+    Whereon the symboled Christ again shall die
+    To cleanse the world of sin. Within the vale
+    Where flows the Ammer like a trail of tears
+    Upon the Holy Mother's face, I see
+    The men and women, faithful to their vows,
+    Breathing the passion of Gethsemane.
+    I see the Saviour in Jerusalem;
+    I see the godless traders scourged; I see
+    Their wares strewn on the temple floor, their doves
+    Set free to wander on the roving winds;
+    I see Iscariot kiss the Nazarene;
+    I see the hate of Herod, and I hear
+    The multitude half-sob, half-wail, "The Cross!"
+    Then up the Way of Tears to Golgotha,
+    Crowned with the thorn, and then, last bitter scene,
+    The mortal death of God's immortal Son.
+
+
+II.
+
+    The eagle wheels around the Kofel crags;
+    The chamois leaps the tumbling glacier stream;
+    The sunbeams dance upon the glistening snows
+    Like pixies, and the wooded mountain slopes
+    Thrill with the notes of songbirds; hymns of joy
+    Break from the forests and the smiling plains,
+    And where the Ammer winds its silvery way,
+    The wild swan ever follows like a prayer.
+    Who of God's creatures, then, has lost his way?
+    'Tis not the chamois, eagle or the swan;
+    'Tis not the mountain torrent, or the birds
+    That twitter all day long within the wood;
+    'Tis not the Ammer flowing to the sea.
+    Who of God's creatures, then, has lost his way?
+    Let us go in the Coliseum where
+    The fresh-hewn cross is lifted to the sky;
+    Let us gaze on the reverential throng
+    That marks Christ's passion in a silent awe,
+    And think a moment on the world of Man--
+    Man, made in God's own image, yet the one
+    Of all God's creatures who has lost his way.
+
+
+III.
+
+    When, on the brooding darkness of the void
+    Wherein the world swung like a tiny star,
+    Death hovered with his sable wings outspread,
+    And Hell yawned far below, God gave to man
+    His promise of redemption through the blood
+    That dripped from pierced hands high on Calvary--
+    The mortal death of God's immortal Son.
+    The centuries have crumbled into dust;
+    Cities have risen on the shores of Time,
+    Then passed away like footprints in the sand;
+    Empires have vanished, kings have laid them down
+    In silence, but the word of Him remains
+    Who cried in agony upon the tree:
+    "Forgive them, for they know not what they do."
+    Once more the fresh-hewn cross lifts to the sky
+    In consecrated Oberammergau;
+    Once more I see the Christ in humble guise
+    Teaching the multitudes, and hear his voice
+    In supplication and in parable
+    Proclaim his mission to a sinful world.
+    Ah, could the world but gaze upon that Christ
+    With heart attuned unto the symboled love
+    That makes his face a radiant miracle!
+    The world hath need of thy great lesson now;
+    The money-changers throng the Temple gates;
+    The kiss of Judas burns from lips to brow;
+    The hate of Herod rankles in the hearts
+    Of scorners, and the poisoned crown of thorns
+    Which Greed has woven for humanity,
+    Bites like the chaplet that the Saviour wore
+    The day that He was crowned and crucified.
+    Methinks I see around the shining cross
+    Phantoms that shudder when the name of Christ
+    Is whispered by the multitude; I see
+    Grim Avarice with shriveled fingers clutch
+    A golden bauble; shrinking by his side,
+    Oppression stands and hugs a clanking chain,
+    While deeper in the gloom, with eyes aglow
+    And matted hair still dripping red with gore,
+    Sits War, her trembling hand enclasped within
+    The spectral hand of Death. O Christus, thou
+    To whom it has been given once again
+    To symbolize the passion of the cross,
+    Approach thy task with heart inspired by love,
+    And when the Saviour's words fall from thy lips,
+    Be thine the Saviour's exaltation when
+    He told the dying thief upon the cross
+    That he should be with Him in Paradise.
+
+
+
+
+INSTRUMENTS.
+
+
+    Today we are the fruits of yesterday
+      And what tomorrow shall of us demand,--
+      The helpless tools within the Master's hand
+    To do His will and never say Him nay.
+    He blends our souls with iron, fire or clay,
+      He shapes our doom according as He planned
+      The scheme of life, and who shall understand
+    The why He gives, or why He takes away?
+    Somewhere the universal loom shall catch
+      These broken, flying threads like thee and me,
+    And twined with other broken threads to match
+      As fly the years' swift shuttles ceaselessly,
+    So weave them all together one by one,
+    Till lo! the finished woof is brighter than the sun.
+
+
+
+
+QUATRAINS.
+
+
+_The Sky Line._
+
+    Like black fangs in a cruel ogre's jaw
+      The grim piles lift against the sunset sky;
+    Down drops the night, and shuts the horrid maw--
+      I listen, breathless, but there comes no cry.
+
+
+_Defeat._
+
+    He sits and looks into the west
+      Where twilight gathers, wan and gray,
+    A knight who quit the Golden Quest,
+      And flung Excalibur away.
+
+
+_To an Amazon._
+
+    O! twain in spirit, we shall know
+      Thy like no more, so fierce, so mild,
+    One breast shorn clean to rest the bow,
+      One milk-full for thy warrior child.
+
+
+_The Old Mother._
+
+    Life is like an old mother whom trouble and toil
+    Have sufficed the best part of her nature to spoil,
+    Whom her children, the Passions, so worry and vex
+    That the good are forgot while the evil perplex.
+
+
+_The Call._
+
+    When the north wind, riding o'er the uplands,
+      Shouted to the red leaves: "I am Death!"
+    Was it fear that sent them all a-flying,
+      Sighing, flying o'er the withered heath?
+
+
+_Life._
+
+    Life is just a web of doubt
+      Where, with iridescent gleams,
+    Flickers in or struggles out
+      Love, the golden moth of dreams.
+
+
+_Revelation._
+
+    I called your name, Man-in-the-Grave,
+      And straight her lips grew cold on mine,
+    And then I knew although I have
+      Her hand, her heart and soul are thine.
+
+
+_Tears of Men._
+
+    Men shed their blood for honor or renown,
+    For freedom's sake to nameless graves go down,
+    But there's one cause alone 'neath heaven above
+    For which they shed their tears, and that is--Love.
+
+
+
+
+IMMUTABILITY.
+
+
+    The sun must rise, the sun must set,
+      Nor ever change in plan may be,
+    Though dawn to stricken wretch may bring
+      The hempen rope and gallows tree,
+    And eventide to happy bride
+      Love's crown of love in Arcady.
+
+
+
+
+THE FETTERED VULTURES.
+
+(Battleships of the Coronation Naval Review, Spithead, England, June 24,
+1911.)
+
+
+    Hail, sceptered Mars, great god of wars!
+      Hail, Carnage, queen of blood!
+    And hail those muffled armaments--
+      Thy fettered vulture brood!
+    Their sable wings are laureled and
+      Their necks are ribboned gay,
+    And silken folds their talons hide
+      This kingly holiday.
+
+    Grotesque and grim, in chains of gold,
+      They go with solemn mien,
+    Their horrid plumes bedizened for
+      The eyes of king and queen;
+    But padded claw and mummer's crest
+      Have served not to disguise
+    Those iron beaks that thirst for blood,
+      Those wakeful, wolfish eyes.
+
+    Ten condors with unsated maws,
+      Four lesser birds of prey,
+    An eagle with undaunted eye
+      From Shasta, far away;
+    A score of birds from many seas,
+      All purged of grime and blood,
+    Keep truckling pace the fete to grace,--
+      Mars' fettered vulture brood.
+
+    But see ye not, great god of wars,
+      And ye, Britannia's king,
+    The day when these black birds shall fly
+      On fierce unshackled wing?
+    When they shall meet 'twixt sea and sky,
+      Rend flesh and break the bone,
+    And blood shall trickle through the waves
+      To gray old Triton's throne?
+
+    Hail, sceptered Mars, great god of wars!
+      Hail, Carnage, queen of blood!
+    And hail those muffled armaments,--
+      Thy fettered vulture brood!
+    And yet Christ's gentle teaching scrolls
+      Prophetic on the sky:
+    "Behold! some day thy vulture brood
+      Shall go unfed and die!"
+
+
+
+
+THE DEAD CHILD.
+
+
+    Life to her was a perfect flower,
+    And every petal a jeweled hour,
+    Till all at once--we know not why--
+    God sent a frost from His clear blue sky.
+
+    Life to her was a fairy rune;
+    Her light feet tripped to the lilting tune,
+    Till all at once--we know not why--
+    God stopped th' enchanting melody.
+
+    Life to her was a picture book
+    That her glad eyes searched with eager look
+    Till all at once--we know not why--
+    God put the wondrous volume by.
+
+
+
+
+NIGHT IN MAY.
+
+
+    The snowy clouds, soft sleeping lambkins, lie
+    Along the dark blue meadows of the sky,
+      And the bright stars, like golden daffodils,
+    Are blooming thickly by.
+
+    And Luna, gentle shepherdess, the while
+    Keeps near her flock and guards it with her smile;
+      I almost fancy I can hear her song
+    Down to this shadowed stile.
+
+    Lo! Zephyrus, fond lover, comes to woo;
+    With airy step he hastes the pastures through,
+      And steals a kiss from Luna as she nods
+    Drowsy with fragrant dew.
+
+    She starts; the little lambs aroused from sleep,
+    Fly hence; but Luna near her swain doth keep.
+      Oh, it was ever thus since lover came
+    'Twixt shepherdess and sheep!
+
+
+
+
+DE PROFUNDIS.
+
+
+    I thought today within the crowded mart
+      I saw thee for a moment, friend of mine,
+      And all at once my blood leapt fast and fine
+    And a new light broke on my shadowed heart.
+    'T was but a moment that my fancy's art
+      Moulded another's features into thine,
+      For when he passed me by and gave no sign,
+    The bitter truth came back with sudden start.
+    Then I remembered how the Merlin spell
+      Of waving arms and woven paces bands
+    Thy dust forever in its four-walled cell,
+      Heedless of all except thy Seer's commands--
+    Holds thee enraptured with the charms that dwell
+      In broken paces and in folded hands.
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note:
+
+    Variant spellings and proper nouns remain as printed. Minor
+    typographical errors have been corrected without note, whilst
+    significant amendments have been listed below:
+
+      p. 8, 'pleasuance' amended to _pleasaunce_;
+        'Some decked for the pleasaunce bower'
+
+      p. 25, 'Hommé' amended to _Homme_;
+        'The old "Bon Homme Richard's" unlaid ghost'
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Pan and Aeolus: Poems, by Charles Hamilton Musgrove
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PAN AND AEOLUS: POEMS ***
+
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+    "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd">
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+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en">
+  <head>
+    <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" />
+    <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" />
+    <title>
+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of Pan and &AElig;olus, by Charles Hamilton Musgrove
+    </title>
+    <style type="text/css">
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+    hr {width: 65%; margin: 2em auto; clear: both;}
+    table,.bk1,.bk2,.poem {margin: 1em auto;}
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+
+
+<pre>
+
+Project Gutenberg's Pan and Aeolus: Poems, by Charles Hamilton Musgrove
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Pan and Aeolus: Poems
+
+Author: Charles Hamilton Musgrove
+
+Release Date: November 26, 2008 [EBook #27333]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PAN AND AEOLUS: POEMS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Garcia, Stephen Blundell and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by The Kentuckiana Digital Library)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<div class="bk2"><div class="bk1"><h1>POEMS</h1>
+
+<h2><small><small>BY</small></small><br />
+<span class="smcap">Charles Hamilton Musgrove</span></h2>
+
+<div class="figa">
+<img src="images/001.png" width="160" height="114" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="center"><big>JOHN P. MORTON &amp; COMPANY</big><br />
+<small>INCORPORATED</small></p>
+
+<p class="center">LOUISVILLE, KENTUCKY</p></div></div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p class="center"><small><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1913,<br />
+By Charles Hamilton Musgrove.</span></small></p>
+
+<hr />
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><small>Page</small></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">A Fugue of Hell</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">Hymn of the Tomb Builders</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_7">7</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">The Tornado</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_10">10</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">Voices</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_12">12</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">A Song for the Hills</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_14">14</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">Romany</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_15">15</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">Idols</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_16">16</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">Ode to the New Century</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_18">18</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">A Clown's Prelude</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_21">21</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">A Legend of Gold</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_22">22</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">The Eagle and the Flower</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_23">23</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">Sunset in the City</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_24">24</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">The Admiral's Return</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_25">25</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">The Dungeoned Anarchist</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_26">26</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">At the Play</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_27">27</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">The Derelict</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_28">28</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">Zoroaster</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_29">29</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">The North Wind</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_31">31</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">Where is God?</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_32">32</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">The Story of Moses</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_34">34</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">Parthenope to Ulysses</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_36">36</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">Death</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_37">37</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">The Light Celestial</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_38">38</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">Cupid to a Skull</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_39">39</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">The Passing Race</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_40">40</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">Kenotaphion</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_42">42</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">The Red Cross</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_43">43</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">Midsummer Noon</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_44">44</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">The Snow Man</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_45">45</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">Our Sister of the Streets</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_46">46</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">The Earthworm and the Star</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_48">48</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">The Riddle of the Sphinx</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_49">49</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">The Mothers</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_50">50</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">In the Night</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_51">51</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">Forgiven</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_52">52</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">A Woman, and some Men</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_53">53</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">The Newly Dead</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_55">55</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">The First Born</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_56">56</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">The Voice of the North</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_57">57</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">To C. 33</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_59">59</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">Silence</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_60">60</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">Columbus' Last Voyage</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_61">61</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">Atonement</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_62">62</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">The Poet Shepherd</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_63">63</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">Our Daily Bread</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_64">64</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">A Mother to the Sea</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_65">65</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">The Feast of the Passions</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_66">66</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">The Human World</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_68">68</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">The Vow Forsworn</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_69">69</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">Confession</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_70">70</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">Love and Art</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_71">71</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">The Song of the Dynamo</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_73">73</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">The Gold Fields</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_76">76</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">The Woman Answers</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_77">77</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">The Monastery</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_78">78</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">The Passion Play</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_79">79</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">Instruments</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_83">83</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">Quatrains</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_84">84</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">Immutability</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_86">86</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">The Fettered Vultures</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_87">87</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">The Dead Child</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_89">89</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">Night in May</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_90">90</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">De Profundis</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_91">91</a></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p>
+<h1>PAN <span class="smcapl">AND</span> &AElig;OLUS</h1>
+
+<div class="figb">
+<img src="images/002.png" width="93" height="15" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<h2>A FUGUE OF HELL.</h2>
+
+<h3>I.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 23em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I dreamed a mighty dream. It seemed mine eyes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sealed for the moment were to things terrene,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And then there came a strange, great wind that blew<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From undiscovered lands, and took my soul<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And set it on an uttermost peak of Hell<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Amid the gloom and fearful silences.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Slowly the darkness paled, and a weird dawn<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Broke on my wondering vision, and there grew<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Uncanny phosphorescence in the air<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which seemed to throb with some great vital spell<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of mystery and doom. With aching eyes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I gazed, and lo! the dreadful scene evolved,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Black and chaotic, like an awful birth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To Desolation, of a lifeless world!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My soul in agony cried out to God,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When of a sudden all the place grew calm,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Save for the trembling of the mountain peaks<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the low moaning of the billowy winds<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Among the abysses. Dull lights here and there<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Kindled, like wreckage of a city razed<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span><span class="i0">By vandals, and the inky sky cupped up<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Into a black, impenetrable roof....<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But now from out the chaos there arose<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Another sound more fearful than the wail<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of tempest, or the quake of mighty hills&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A mortal cry, a human voice in Hell!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>II.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 23em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The infernal glare grew brighter, and there came<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unto mine ears the sound of many tongues,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mingling discordant curse with bitter cry<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of lamentation. On the outer marge<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Hell's domains, set one at each of four<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Far sundered corners, four volcanoes grim<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Spewed up their flaming bowels into a sea<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of blackness whence no light could issue forth.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beyond this fierce horizon, farther yet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Than vision's wing could bear my gaze, I knew<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hell's desolate kingdoms stretched their iron wastes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hell's burning mountains waved their brands of flame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hell's lava rivers plunged in fury down<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their adamantine beds.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i10">The human cry<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Deepened,&mdash;the stunning babel shrieked and roared<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As though some mighty revolution swept<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The flying hosts along&mdash;some pang too keen<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For the immortal and transcendent pains<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Hell to quench, was burning in their souls.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span></p>
+<h3>III.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 23em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Slowly mine eyes pierced through the pallid light<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That crowned the awful place, and then I saw<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That which shall not be seen of mortal eye<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Until the final day. I saw the vast<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Black concourse of Inferno pouring in<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From Hell's four sides, and gathering at the base<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of a stupendous mountain whose great crest<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Towered high above the glare, and lost itself<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In blackness. Never met such throng before<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In Hell or Heaven. Flowing round the mount<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like a huge deluge, from afar they came,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And near. A dreadful sound was on mine ears,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As when the first great call of deep to deep<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Broke on the natal silence, or as when<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The wailing cry of universal death<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall shake the pillars of eternity!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Still came the multitudes, and still the sea<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of human souls surged round the iron base<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of that mysterious mountain, while afar<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The dim circumference was added to<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With newer legions. Conquerors of old,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Armored and visored in resplendent steel,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Galloped on Hell-steeds, that with one great bound<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cleared bottomless ca&ntilde;ons; then the kings and queens<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Babylon, shorn of their lofty state,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Came abject, and with terror in those eyes<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span><span class="i0">That once outshone the world; and after them,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Myriads who reveled at the feast of life,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And when the reeling stupor of their wine<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Had loosened, woke and found their souls in Hell.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>IV.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 23em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What horrid crisis, then, I thought, can bring<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The infernal minions to assemble here<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Within the shadow of this gloomy peak<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That seems to thrust aloft its fearful head<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Even to God's footstool? Then as if there came<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Answer direct to my soul's questioning,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A great voice lifted from the throng, which seemed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To bear up heaven-high its might of words,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Crying: "Thou wan inheritors of pain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Angels and princes, ministers of Hell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hearken! The day of all great days is come,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Commemorative of that legend old<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose prophecy is that when the time has run<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A million &aelig;ons out, if God relent,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A symbol shall be set upon the top<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of yonder mount&mdash;a blazing star&mdash;to tell<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That hope is not yet dead. O powers of night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Children of woe and darkness! not again<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall Hell know such a gathering as this<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Until, if hope be not forever fled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The day of our redemption shall arrive!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The voice ceased and a murmur ran through Hell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A fearful whisper, scarcely breathing, "Hope!"<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span><span class="i0">Then louder, as when storms begin to blow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gusty and fitful, and the word was "Hope!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then, rising like a tempest, swelling high<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In vast crescendo, swept the human cry,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all Hell's thunderous gamut answered "<i>Hope!</i>"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>V.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 23em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The shouts ceased, and the exultation died<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Slowly into a sort of empty wail,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Half hope and half despair, for still the sign<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Had not yet blazed upon their eager eyes.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then as I sat in wondering agony,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Praying, yet fearing, for the greatest cause<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That ever souls of men in balance set<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Gainst everlasting doom, there rose again<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The voice of their great leader, Lucifer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The rebel angel, and outcast of God:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Lo, hosts of Hell," he cried, "inheritors<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of death diurnal, strangely mingled with<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Relentless life, what shall we say to God<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who waits and watches? Shall we pray or curse,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Implore or threaten? Can we move Him thus?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Burn not the lightnings yet in His right hand<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With which He struck us to confusion once?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And laughs He not in thunderbolts the same<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As once pursued our howling flight to Hell?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Befits it rather, think ye not, my hosts,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That we should send on high in one accord<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A mighty threnody&mdash;a hymn of Hell,<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span><span class="i0">Inspired by pain and sung in bitterest woe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As our best offering,&mdash;and await His word?"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He ceased, and for the moment all was still;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then plaintive as the rhythmic dawn of stars<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon a night of sorrow, rose a strain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of lamentation, such as when the sea<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Makes moan unto an earthquake's inward throes.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then circling outward passed the rising tones<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of that sad minstrelsy, and then again<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Backward it swept like a great tidal wave<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of anguish, all Hell's anarchy of grief<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Set to a sounding fugue. Grim-throated rose<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The awful hymn, and mingling with the wail<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of voices, pealed the cymbals' brassy clang;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The thunderous organs bellowed through the gloom,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, rocking Hell's foundations, burst a blare<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of stormy trumpets crying: "Woe, woe, woe!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Methought the angels must have wept to hear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Methought their tears had dropt like healing rain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon the fires of torment, and assuaged<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their blazing wrath, so piteous was the strain.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The music ceased, the echoes sobbed away<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like a tumultuous sorrow, when, behold!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The black veil lifted from the mountain's crest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And on its glorious summit flamed <i>the Star</i>!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span></p>
+<h2>HYMN OF THE TOMB BUILDERS.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 26em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><i>They were three old men with hoary hair</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i2"><i>And beards of wintry gray,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>And they digged a grave in the yellow soil,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>And they crooned this song as they plied their toil,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i2"><i>In the fading light of day:</i><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Hither ye bring your workmen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Like tools that are broken and bent,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To pay your due to their cunning<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">After their skill is spent;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hither ye bring them and lay them,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And go when your prayers are said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Back where the stress of your living<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Makes mock of the peace of your dead.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">From the iron-paved roads of traffic,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">From the shell-scarred fields of war,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From the lands of earth's burning girdle<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To the snows of her uttermost star,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ye bring in your sons and daughters<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">From the glare and the din of today,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Giving them back unto silence,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And sealing their lips with clay.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span><span class="i0">Some drunk with the wine of carnage,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Some clothed with the shreds of power,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some stark from the fields of famine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Some decked for the pleasaunce bower,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all with their still clay fingers<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To their cold clay bosoms laid<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To sleep from &aelig;on to &aelig;on<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">At the lowly Sign of the Spade.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Afar through the quickening ages<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Fell the first keen notes of strife,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And they held out their hands in the darkness<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Toward that blatant boon called life;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And they heard the building of empires,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And the restless trampling of men,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the dust that was made for heartbreak<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Grew poignant even then.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Your bones they are moist with marrow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And with milk your breasts are full;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Your hands they are strong and subtle,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And your life-blood never dull;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But fail at the sword or the plowshare,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Or fall at the forge or the wheel,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And ye only mar earth's bosom<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With a wound that her dust will heal.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span><span class="i0">Hither ye bring your workmen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And it's ever the tale retold<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of the useless tools of the builders,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Battered and broken and old;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hither ye bring them and lay them,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And go when your prayers are said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For the blood of your living is dearer<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Than the idle dust of your dead.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><i>They were three old men with hoary hair</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i2"><i>And beards of wintry gray,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>And they shouldered their spades, for their work was done,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>And they left behind at the set of sun</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i2"><i>A grave in the yellow clay.</i><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE TORNADO.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 32em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">God let me fall from His hand<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One day at His forge when the elemental world<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was shaping. I am but a breath from His great bellows,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But here among the workshops of mankind<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I am a fateful scourge.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I tear red strips from the proud cities of men;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I name my passage the Highway of Instant Death;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I splinter world-old forests with my laugh,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And whirl the ancient snows of Hecla sheer into Orion's eyes.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I dance on the deep under the big Indian stars,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And wrap the water spout about my sinuous hips<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As a dancer winds her girdle. The ocean's horrid crew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The octopus, the serpent, and the shark, with the heart of a coward,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Plunge downward when they hear my feet above on the sea-floor,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And hide in their slimy coverts. Brave men pray upon the straining decks<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till comes my mood to end them, and I strew the racing foam with wreckage.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span><span class="i0">I am a breath from God's forge. I remember His awful workshop,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How the hot globes spun off into infinite darkness, as system by system,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The universe was wrought; and then I remember the birth of the sun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How God cried: "Let there be light!" and, blinding, bewildering, exulting,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The great orb flamed from His furnace, and only the Creator stood upright.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In that hour I fell from His hand.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I am a breath from God's forge,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, being a part of creation, I shall also be a part of the end.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He has told me that there shall come a day<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When the Seventh Angel shall open his last vial of wrath in the mid-air,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in that day I shall dance with the thunder, the lightning, and the earthquake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, dancing, hear His voice cry out from Heaven's temple: "It is done!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span></p>
+<h2>VOICES.</h2>
+
+<h3><i>Earthquake.</i></h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I am a memory of cosmogony,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That first great hour of travail when the voice<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of God called suns and systems from the void;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I am the dream He dreams of that last day<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When mountains by the roots shall be plucked up<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And headlong flung into the raging sea!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3><i>Hurricane.</i></h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I am the breath that fills the organ pipes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When through the vast cathedral of the world<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Death's stormy threnody sweeps, wave on wave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The symboled note that one day will be blown<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By a great angel standing in the sun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At which the heaven and earth shall pass away!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3><i>Fire.</i></h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I am the letters of that fateful word<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Writ with a flaming sword above the gates<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Eden when God spelled the doom of man;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I am the wrath that on the judgment day<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall waste the seas, and wither up the stars,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And roll the heavens together like a scroll!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span></p>
+<h3><i>God.</i></h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I am the earthquake, hurricane and fire!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through them I speak with man as through the stars,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The dews, the flowers, and every gentler thing;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some learn my lesson in the paths of peace;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some con it low at desolation's knee;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Only the fool hath said: "There is no God!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span></p>
+<h2>A SONG FOR THE HILLS.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 29em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Here is the freedom men die for,&mdash;die for but never know;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Here is the peace they pray for shrined in eternal snow;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Down on the plain the city moans with a human cry,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But here there is naught but silence,&mdash;peace, and the wide, wide sky.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Here are the dawn's first footfalls, and the twilight's last farewell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The benediction of starlight, and the moon's sweet canticle;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Here is one spot as God made it, far from the plainsman's range,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or the march of the cycling seasons with their everlasting change.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Down on the plain the city moans with a human cry,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the man-gnomes delve and burrow for gold till they drop and die;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But here there is naught for conquest and the spoiler stands at bay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For God still keeps one playground where He and His whirlwinds play.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span></p>
+<h2>ROMANY.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 20em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The city frets in the distance, lass,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The city so grim and gray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A glare in the sky by night, my lass,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And a blot on the sky by day;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But we are out on the long white road,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And under the wide free sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the song that was born in my heart today<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Will sing there till I die.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The long white road and the wide free sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And the city far away;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A good-night kiss in the twilight, lass,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And a kiss at the break of day;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For light are the loads we bear, my lass,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">By highway and hill and grove,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the sunlight is all for life, my lass,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And the starlight all for love.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span></p>
+<h2>IDOLS.</h2>
+
+<h3>I.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 21em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Mouths have they, but they speak not:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Yet something in the certainty of faith<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To their disciples saith:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Believe on me and vengeance I will wreak not."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The word that conquers death&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The immutable and boundless gift of grace&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Dwells in that stony face,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And every supplication answereth.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mouths have they, but they speak not;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Yet one supernal will that shapes to suit<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A great decree that can not be belied<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Utters from voiceless lips those creeds that guide<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The tribes that never heard<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The living, saving Word,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That have their dead gods and are satisfied.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>II.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 21em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Eyes have they, but they see not:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Yet the pagan builds his shrine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And keeps his fires divine<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Forever bright, nor darkly doubts there be not<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Enough of grace and power<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Within those eyes that glower<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span><span class="i0">To read his soul. To him they are not blind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For some dim, undefined<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Reward of faith that thrills his untaught breast<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Links up his baser mind<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To the clear eyes of God that burn behind<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The stony brow. It is a creed professed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Before a deity not quenched in space,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But one to whom his bands<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Can lift adoring hands,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And see and touch and worship face to face.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>III.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 21em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ears have they, but they hear not:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Yet the heathen kneel and pray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Nor in their madness say:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Thou art no god, and therefore I will fear not;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">What if I disobey?<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Thou art but stone or clay."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They hear not, but their worshippers impute<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Them faculties to suit<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The divination of the prayers they say;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Christ, who understands<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His children in all lands<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When from the dark their dying souls have cried,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Shrines His great heart of love within the clod<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The savage calls his god<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all idolatry is deified.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span></p>
+<h2>ODE TO THE NEW CENTURY.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 30em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The dial has pointed the hour and the hour has rounded the day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The day has finished the year that dies with a century's birth;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Eastward the morning stars sing as they go their way:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">"Lo! the Great Mother travaileth, a king is born to the earth!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">King of a hundred years, and king of a million tombs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Sovereign of infinite joys, keeper of countless tears;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Peace to the throneless dead, hail to the ruler who comes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">King of a million tombs, and king of a hundred years!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Time and his tenant Death, for the space of a moment's flight<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Stand on the bare, black ridge dividing eternities twain;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One looks back to his realm all waste in the hopeless night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">One with the eyes of hope sees it rebuilded again.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Behind are the gray, gleaned fields with their worthless stubble of graves,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Strewn with the thistles of sin, and the trampled chaff of desire;<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span><span class="i0">Before are the acres of love, not furrowed by hands of slaves,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Not sown with sorrow and strife, not wasted with flood or with fire.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Great is the hour, my Soul, and great is the wonder to see;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Prophet-like dost thou look to yonder portentous sky<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where lo! the scroll is unfolding&mdash;the scroll of the great To Be:&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Look to the east, O Soul, and clear and strong be thine eye!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Look to the west where once waved the cherubic sword<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Over man's Eden lost, and see in the heavens above<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not the angels of wrath bearing God's angry word,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But the angels of Mercy and Peace, the angels of Hope and of Love.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Great is the hour, O Soul, and great are the voices to hear&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Voices of choral stars, and the calling of deep unto deep<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like to the natal hour when rolling sphere upon sphere<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Sprang from the bosom of God and sang of their limitless sweep!<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span><span class="i0">Great is the hour, O Soul, and thou art a seer who looks<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Far through the mystic night and seeth the great unseen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Truth that to us is blind, and the lies of our prophets' books,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Heaven and Hell and the land called Life that lies between.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The region of shapes called Life, with shadows behind and before&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Shadows voiceless as Death, and dark as the sunless tomb,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shapes whose anguish and strife seem a glimpse of Hell's grim shore&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Shadows that gave them life and shadows that hail them home.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Great is the hour, O Soul, and great is the wonder to see!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Thou art alone with God as he writes on the future's page<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Two words in letters of fire&mdash;(one Doom,&mdash;one Mystery,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Alpha the last, and the first Omega) and names it an Age.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>[December 31, 1900.]</p>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span></p>
+<h2>A CLOWN'S PRELUDE.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 21em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Behold! I cover up this trail of tears<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A moment's weakness left upon my cheek,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And hush my heart a little ere I speak<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lest the false note ring true on other ears;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The music rises and the empty cheers<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Proclaim the harlequin, and lo! I stand<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The painted fool again and kiss my hand<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With jocund air to Folly's worshippers.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So day by day life's bitter bread is earned<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With lips that smile and frame the mirthless joke,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And frailer grows the soul that once was strong,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The joyless soul of one whose trade has turned<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Life's tragic mantle to a jester's cloak,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Life's diapason to a jester's song.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span></p>
+<h2>A LEGEND OF GOLD.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 24em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Lucifer craved one boon of God<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">After his fall, as his own to hold;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So He gave him a mite in heaven's sight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But lo! the gift that He gave was&mdash;Gold.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And Lucifer wrought with the rugged ore<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Till he fashioned it wondrous fair, and then<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He set a price on the precious store,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And the price was the blood and tears of men.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Blood and tears! and the price was paid;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Blood was nothing, and tears were free;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Lucifer smiled at the fools and said:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">"Surely your souls should belong to me!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">So he offered the earth with its golden heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And the seas with their fleets from pole to pole;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And they looked with lust on the world-wide mart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And said in their hearts,&mdash;"It is worth the soul!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And kings were they, and they ruled right well;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Gorgeously sped their sovereign day ...<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But Lucifer hath their souls in Hell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And their gold and their empires&mdash;where are they?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE EAGLE AND THE FLOWER.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 23em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The eyrie clung to the shattered cliff<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That the glacier's torrent thundered under;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the unfledged eaglet's lifted eye<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Looked out on the world of peak and sky<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">In silent wonder.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The mountain daisy, dainty white,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That grew by the side of the lofty eyrie,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Saw the young wings beat on the eagle's breast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the restless eyes in the fagot-nest<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Grow grim and fiery.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The days went by and the wings grew strong,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And the crag-built home was at last deserted;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But, close to the nest that her love had left,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The daisy clung to the rocky cleft,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Half broken-hearted.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The days went by and the wan, white flower<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Waited and watched in the autumn weather;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Far down the valley, far up the height,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The forest blazed, and a wizard light<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Crowned hill and heather.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And he came at last one eventide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">His breast was pierced and his plumes were gory;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For home is best when we come to die,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And we love the love that our youth puts by,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And there's my story.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span></p>
+<h2>SUNSET IN THE CITY.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 20em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Down at the end of the iron lane<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I see the sunset's glare,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the red bars lie across the sky<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Like steps of a wondrous stair.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Below, the throng, with unlifted eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Sweeps on in its heedless flight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where the street's black funnel pours its tide<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Out into the deepening night.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And no one has stopped to read God's word<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">On the fiery heavens scrolled<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Save an old man dreaming of boyhood's days,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And a boy who would fain be old.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE ADMIRAL'S RETURN.</h2>
+
+<p class="center"><small>(Written on the occasion of the bringing of the body of Admiral John Paul Jones to
+the United States for reburial.)</small></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Brave ships are these that bear thee home again<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">From under far-off skies&mdash;brave flags that fly<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Above the deck whereon thine ashes lie,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Waiting their urn beyond the alien main;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The nations pause to view thy funeral train<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As slowly moving up 'twixt sea and sky<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">It comes with stately pomp, and Liberty<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Holds out her hands and calls thy name in vain.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And yet, mayhap, in vision vague and sweet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Another sight thou seest beyond the boast<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of patriot pride&mdash;beside the new-born fleet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Spectral and strange, no guest for such a host,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet making thy home-coming all complete,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The old "Bon Homme Richard's" unlaid ghost.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE DUNGEONED ANARCHIST.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 23em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He crouches, voiceless, in his tomb-like cell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Forgot of all things save his jailer's hate<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That turns the daylight from his iron grate<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To make his prison more and more a hell;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For him no coming day or hour shall spell<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Deliverance, or bid his soul await<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The hand of Mercy at his dungeon gate:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He would not know even though a kingdom fell!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The black night hides his hand before his eyes,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That grim, clenched hand still burning with the sting<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of royal blood; he holds it like a prize,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Waiting the hour when he at last shall fling<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The stain in God's face, shrieking as he dies:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">"Behold the unconquered arm that slew a king!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span></p>
+<h2>AT THE PLAY.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 20em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The poet painted a woman's soul,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Human, trusting and kind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And then he drew the soul of a man,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Brutal and base and blind;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And the woman loved in the old, old way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And the man in the way of men,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the poet christened their lives "A Play,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And he sat down to watch it, and then ...<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A woman rose with a bitter laugh,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And her eyes were as dry as stone<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As she bowed her head at the poet's stall<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And said in a strange, cold tone:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"He paints the best who has dipped his brush<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In the heart's own blood, they say;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You took my love and you took my life,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But you gave the world&mdash;a play!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE DERELICT.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 20em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">North and south with the fickle tides,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With the wind from east to west,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The death-ship follows her track of doom,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But finds no port or rest.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Day after day the far white sails<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Come up and glimmer and die,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And night by night the twinkling lights<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Crawl down the distant sky.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Day after day her black hull lifts<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And sinks with the swell's long roll,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the white birds cling to her rotting shrouds<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Like prayers of a stricken soul,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But ever the death-ship keeps her track<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">While the ships of men sail on,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For God is her skipper and helmsman, too,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And knoweth her port alone.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span></p>
+<h2>ZOROASTER.</h2>
+
+<h3>I.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The light of a new day was on his brow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The faith of a great dawn was on his tongue;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Out of the dark he raised his voice and sung<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The high Messiah who should overthrow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The gods that Superstition crowned with might<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And set above the world,&mdash;the coming Christ<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose unshed blood should be the holy tryst<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Twixt man and his lost Eden, washing white<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From his rebellious soul the serpent's blight.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>II.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The fire that on the Magi's altars glowed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Spake to his soul in symbols and expressed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The immortal purity that without rest<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Strives with the mortal grossness whose abode<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is in the heart. Their symboled fire showed One<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose spirit on the altar of the world<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Burns ceaselessly,&mdash;where, if all vice be hurled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It shall be purged with fire that shall atone,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Christ's love the flame, man's sin th' alchemic stone.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span></p>
+<h3>III.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The light of a new day was on his brow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The faith of a great dawn was on his tongue;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Above the old Chaldean myths he sung<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The message of the peace that men should know<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through God's own Son. Out of the hopeless night<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He saw the star of Bethlehem arise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And o'er the wasted gates of Paradise<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beheld it mount, and heard, to hail its light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The everlasting groan of hell's despite.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE NORTH WIND.</h2>
+
+<h3>I.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 19em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Wind of the North, I know your song<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Out on the frozen plain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But here in the city's streets you seem<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Only a cry of pain.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>II.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 19em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I know the note of your lusty throat<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Where the black boughs toss and roar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But here it is part of the old, old cry<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of the hungry, homeless poor.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>III.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 19em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I know the song that you sing to God,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Joyous and high and wild,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But here where His creatures herd and die,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">'Tis the sob of a little child.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span></p>
+<h2>WHERE IS GOD?</h2>
+
+<p class="center"><small>(Written during the hostilities in the Far East in 1900.)</small></p>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 19em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Hard by the gates of Eden,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Where God first walked with man,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the light of the new creation,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Ere the race of Cain began,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The world-wide hosts have gathered,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And their swords are drawn to slay:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">God was with man in Eden,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But where is God today?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">From the ice-bound steppes of the Cossack;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">From the home of the fleur-de-lis,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From the vineyards that crown the Rhineland<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To the shores of the phosphor sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The clans have gathered for battle,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And each for the signal waits,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While a million swords are flaming<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">At Eden's Eastern gates.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">By the sign of the yellow dragon,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">By the tri-color's bars of light;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By the double-throated eagle<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That screams with the lust of fight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By the Union Jack of Britannia,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">By Columbia's stars and bars,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They pray to the god of battle<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">For the meed of a hundred wars.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span><span class="i0">Hard by the gates of Eden,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Where the passion flower of strife<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">First bloomed at its blood-red altar<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">At the price of a brother's life,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The children of Cain are gathered<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To plunder and burn and slay:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">God was with man in Eden,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But where is God today?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE STORY OF MOSES.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 19em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">This is the story of Moses,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The earliest scribe that we keep:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Void was the earth and formless,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And dark was the face of the deep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till God's word flashed in lightning,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Beautiful, bountiful, bright,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And night was the name of the darkness,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And day was the name of the light.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">This is the story of Moses&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">(Doubt it, if ever you can)&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The world was too good to begin with,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">So God made Adam, the man;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And for Adam He made the woman,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And He gave them laws to obey;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, lastly, He sent the serpent<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To follow and tempt and betray.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">This is the story of Moses&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Eve got a man from the Lord,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And his name was Cain, and another<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Called Abel, the evil-starred;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the brothers quarreled at their worship,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And Abel, the meek, was slain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Death shook hands with the slayer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">His first and best friend, Cain.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span><span class="i0">This is the story of Moses<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of how our people began,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of the broken law and the bloodshed&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">First fruits of the God-sent man;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This is the story of Moses,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The earliest scribe who writ,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all the scribes who are writing<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Don't vary the tale a whit.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span></p>
+<h2>PARTHENOPE TO ULYSSES.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 23em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O king! what is the quest that evermore<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Foredooms thy feet to roam, yet blinds thine eyes?<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Why seek ye still for life's imperfect prize,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or turn thy weary sail from shore to shore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When here thou layest aside the ills of yore<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To calm thy soul with dreams? Let it suffice&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">This heart-sick burden of the worldly-wise&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That ye have borne it and the task is o'er,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Here see the world fade like a spark of fire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">While all thy restless ways grow full of peace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And wear the fittest crown for them that tire<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Their souls with life's unraveled mysteries,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Above the old red roses of desire<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The languid lotus of desire's surcease!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span></p>
+<h2>DEATH.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 24em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I am the outer gate of life where sit<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Faith and Unfaith, those two interpreters<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That spell in diverse ways what God has writ<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In symbols on the archway of the years.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Backward I swing for many feet to pass;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Some come in stormy haste, some grave and slow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all like windy shadows on the grass:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Beyond my pale I know not where they go.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE LIGHT CELESTIAL.</h2>
+
+<p class="center"><small>(Written on the ter-centenary of John Milton, December 9, 1908.)</small></p>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 23em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Immortal singer, in whose glorious brain<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Unearthly melodies were born to make<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A nocturn for the blessed Master's sake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I see thee pass through heaven's gates again;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I hear thee singing that majestic strain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Which soothed the heart affliction could not break,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And proved the faith no worldly ills could shake;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And then I see thee join God's holy train,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But, wonder of all wonders! where the light<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Breaks from a thousand suns, the seraphs, shod<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With flaming sandals, lead thee; and my sight<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Dims with the vision, till fresh from His rod,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I see thee lift those orbs, once quenched in night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And gaze into the steadfast eyes of God!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span></p>
+<h2>CUPID TO A SKULL.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 21em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I came your way in the years gone by,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In the summers that now are old,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And then there was light in your beaming eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And love was living and hopes were high<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">At the Sign of the Heart of Gold.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I come today and the lights are fled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And the trail of the mold and rust<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Has saddened the hall where the feast was spread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And love has vanished and youth is dead<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">At the Sign of the Heart of Dust.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE PASSING RACE.</h2>
+
+<h3>I.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 24em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Silent as ever, stoic as of old,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The scattered nomads of that dusky race<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose story shall forever be untold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sit mid the ruins of their dwelling place<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And watch the white man's empire grow apace.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Passive as one who knows his earthly doom,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And only waits with calm but hopeless face<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The while the seasons go with blight and bloom,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So live they day by day beside their nation's tomb.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>II.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 24em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">In the deep woods and by the rolling streams<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They made their home, and knew no other clime;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They lived their lives and dreamed barbaric dreams,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor heard the menace of relentless Time<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As on his thunderous legions swept sublime<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bearing the torch of progress through the night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till lo! the primal wastes were all a-chime<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With traffic's strange new music, and the might<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of busy hordes that wrought to spread the new-born light.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span></p>
+<h3>III.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 24em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">They were strange wanderers on life's sad deep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And paused a moment in God's mystic plan<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A little vigil on time's shores to keep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then passed forever from the tribes of man.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They heard a voice and a strange face did scan,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And what of conquest or of kingly sway<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Had filled their dreams, they gave the white man's clan,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And with the dawning of a wondrous day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They spread their sails again and, voiceless, passed away.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>IV.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 24em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Silent as ever, stoic as of old,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their children sit with empty hands to wait<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sequel that the future shall unfold,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The unwritten "Finis" of remorseless fate.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Vanquished they stand before oblivion's gate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Knowing that soon the everlasting seal<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of destiny shall all obliterate<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their finished story, which, for woe or weal,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall be with Him who writ to hide or to reveal.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span></p>
+<h2>KENOTAPHION.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 25em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O wanderer! whoever thou mayest be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I beg of thee to pass in silence here<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And leave me with my empty sepulchre<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beside the ceaseless turmoil of the sea;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pass me as one whom life's old tragedy<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Hath made distraught&mdash;who now in dreams doth keep<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">His cherished dead, unmindful of her sleep<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In ocean's bosom locked eternally!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Scorn not the foolish grave that I have made<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Beside the deep sea of my soul's unrest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But let me hope that when the storms are stayed<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">My phantom ship shall sail from out the west<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bringing the boon for which I long have prayed&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The broken vigil and the ended quest.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE RED CROSS.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 21em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">St. George, I learned to love thee in my youth<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">When of thy deeds I read in deathless song;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And now, when I behold the dragon Wrong<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hard by the castle-gates of Love and Truth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I feel the world's great need of thee, forsooth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To strike the heavy blow delayed too long.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Then turning from the medi&aelig;val throng,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where thou wert bravest, yet the first in ruth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I watch thy votaries by land and sea<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Armed with thy sacred sign go forth to fight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Anew the battle of humanity<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Beneath the flag of mercy and of right;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No holier band a holier realm e'er trod<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Than this&mdash;the world's knight-errantry of God!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span></p>
+<h2>MIDSUMMER NOON.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Through shimmering skies the big clouds slowly sail;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A faint breeze lingers in the rustling beech;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Atop the withered oak with vagrant speech<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The brawling crows call down the sleepy vale;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unseen the glad cicadas trill their tale<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of deep content in changeless vibrant screech,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And where the old fence rambles out of reach,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The drowsy lizard hugs the shaded rail.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Warm odors from the hayfield wander by,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Afar the homing reaper's noontide tune<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Floats on the mellow stillness like a sigh;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">One butterfly, ghost of a vanished June,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Soars dimly where in realms of purple sky<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Dips the wan crescent of the vapory moon.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE SNOW MAN.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 24em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Poor shape grotesque that careless hands have wrought!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Frail wistful thing, left gaping at the sun<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With empty grin, 'tis well no blood shall run<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Within thy frozen veins, no kindling thought<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Light up those eyeless sockets wherein naught<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But hate could dwell if once they flashed the fire<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of being, or the doom-gift of Desire<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Should curse thy life, unbidden and unsought.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Poor snow man with thy tattered hat awry,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And broomstick musket toppling from thy hands,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis well thou hast no language to decry<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Thy poor creator or his vain commands;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No tear to shed that thou so soon must die,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">No voice to lift in prayer where no god understands!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span></p>
+<h2>OUR SISTER OF THE STREETS.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 20em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">She comes not with the conscious grace<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of gentle, winsome womanhood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor yet, withal, the flaunting face<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of men and women understood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But rather as a thing apart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A wind-blown petal of a rose,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A specter with a specter's heart<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That cometh once&mdash;and goes.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Her eyes some trace of cold, white light<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Within their haunted depths still hold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Though hunger's fever made them bright,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And lack of pity made them cold.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We know her when she passes by,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Whom no one loves or chides or greets&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The woman with the cold, bright eye&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Our sister of the streets.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">We know the tawdry arts she tries,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The tint of cheek, the gold of hair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To mimic nature for the eyes<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of those who scorn her paltry care,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And spurn those charms&mdash;if aught abide<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Within her beauty's narrowed scope&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now touched with less a wanton's pride<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Than with an outcast's hope.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span><span class="i0">We know her in the blatant crowd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And feel her, as we feel, in fine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The eyes' remembrance of a cloud,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The lips' faint bitterness of brine;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We know her when she passes by,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Whom no one loves or chides or greets&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The woman with the cold, bright eye&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Our sister of the streets.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE EARTHWORM AND THE STAR.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 29em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">An Earthworm once loved a Star. In the hush of the summer night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He lay quite close to the ground and gazed on its golden light;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He looked from his house of clay, and dreamed of wonderful things,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till, lo! (as he thought) his longing brought forth miraculous wings.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The Butterfly soared in the air, straight toward the beckoning spark;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His wings grew weary and chill, but the Star smiled through the dark;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His wings grew heavy and cold, the wings that he dreamed love gave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And he folded them there in the starlight, and the dust became his grave.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE RIDDLE OF THE SPHINX.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">From age to age the haggard human train<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Creeps wearily across Time's burning sands<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To look into her face, and lift weak hands<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In supplication to the calm disdain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That crowns her stony brow.... But all in vain<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The riddle of mortality they try:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Doom speaks still from her unrelenting eye&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Doom deep as passion, infinite as pain.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From age to age the voice of Love is heard<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Pleading above the tumult of the throng,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But evermore the inexorable word<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Comes like the tragic burden of a song.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"The answer is the same," the stern voice saith:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Death yesterday, today and still tomorrow&mdash;Death!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE MOTHERS.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 21em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Beyond the tumult and the proud acclaim,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Beyond the circle where the glory beats<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With withering light upon the mighty seats,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They hear the far-resounding trump of fame;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On other lips they hear the one-loved name<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In vaunting or derision, and they weep<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To know that they shall never lull to sleep<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Those tired heads, crowned with desolating flame.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beyond the hot arena's baleful glow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Beyond the towering pomp they dimly see,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They sit and watch the fateful pageants go<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Through war's red arch, or up to Calvary,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The First Love still within their hearts impearled&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mothers of all the masters of the world!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span></p>
+<h2>IN THE NIGHT.</h2>
+
+<h3><i>The Child.</i></h3>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 17em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I hear you weeping, mother, dear,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I hear you wake and weep;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What brings the tears into your eyes<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">When you should be asleep?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I hear my name upon your lips;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">What is it that you say<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of one who broke a trusting heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But now is far away?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3><i>The Mother.</i></h3>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 17em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I weep for you, my pretty lass,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Frail flower of love unblessed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Because I can not always hold<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">You close unto my breast;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I weep that you some day must go<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Alone your way to find,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For, oh, you have your mother's eyes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And men are seldom kind!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span></p>
+<h2>FORGIVEN.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 20em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I might have met his anger with a smile<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">For so it was that I had set my heart<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To mask deception with a wanton's guile,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And save the tears that now begin to start.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I might have worn my guilty crown of thorn,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Yea, even worn it gladly like a prize;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But, oh! more bitter than his rage or scorn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">He left me with forgiveness in his eyes.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span></p>
+<h2>A WOMAN, AND SOME MEN.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 21em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Once in a dream of Babylon<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I sat with Lilith and Cain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At the world-old drama, "From God to God,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In the House of Things Profane;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Trumpets and lights, and the players<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Swung to the stage, and then<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I saw as I looked in their faces<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A woman, and some men.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Men with the eyes of the psalmist,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Men with the hearts of Saul,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Strong with the wine of valor,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But faint with the woman's thrall;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Calm were her eyes as she held them<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Charmed to her soulless sway,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For she had the face of the Magdalene,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And the heart of Aholiba.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Wine and kisses and gusty words,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Kisses and wine again,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And her lips and brow were red with stains<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">From the hairy mouths of men,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Red as the stain on the brow of Cain<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That burned with his Maker's hate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or the lips of the witch that Adam loved<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Ere God revealed his mate.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span><span class="i0">Trumpets and lights and the players<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Swung from the stage, and then<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The curtain fell on the drama<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of a woman and some men;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While cleaving the dome of the temple<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Fell the Avenger's rod,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And lo! when I looked again I saw<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">We were face to face with God.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And Lilith, the witch, dropped down and prayed<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That her child a soul might have,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the blood red stain on the brow of Cain<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Be wiped out in the grave;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And this was my dream of Babylon<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">When I sat with Lilith and Cain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At the world-old drama, "From God to God,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In the House of Things Profane.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE NEWLY DEAD.</h2>
+
+<h3>I.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 21em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">With the light just quenched in their eyes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They lie in their graves 'neath the skies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the fresh clod rests<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Heavy upon their breasts.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The white rose dies<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon the new-made mound, and underneath<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The lily shrivels in the shriveling hand.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pale guests of sovereign Death,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They sought their silent beds at his command,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And it seems<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Strange that their life-long dreams<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall find them no more,&mdash;never bid them arise<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And go forth with a glory in their eyes.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>II.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 21em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Still, voiceless, cold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They lie in their shrouds and hold<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The crumbling links that make<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A chain for Memory's sake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Broken, alas! too soon.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Blithe morn and brazen noon<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And eve with garb of gray and gold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Know them no more in the dark ways they take.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They have forgot the sun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the fiery worlds that run<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">About it. Something&mdash;(what, let no man say,)&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Begot of mystery is in mystery done:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The rest shall be with them and God alway.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE FIRST BORN.</h2>
+
+<h3>I.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 16em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"He has eyes like the Christ,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The mother said, and smiled;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"He will be wise and good,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">My wondering little child.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">God grant him strength to do<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Whate'er his tasks may be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But spare him, if Thou wilt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">O, spare him Calvary!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>II.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 16em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Grim where the black bars cast<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Their shadows o'er his bed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He waits to pay the cost<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of blood his hands have shed.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The mother kneels and sobs:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">"God, he shall always be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In spite of Cain's red brand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A stainless child to me."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE VOICE OF THE NORTH.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 20em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">You have builded your ships in the sun-lands,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And launched them with song and wine;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They are boweled with your stanchest engines,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And masted with bravest pine;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You have met in your closet councils,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With your plans and your prayers to God<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For a fortunate wind to waft you<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Where never a foot has trod.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And now you follow the polar star<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To the seat of the old Norse Kings,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Past the death-white halls of Valhalla,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Where the Norn to the tempest sings&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Follow the steady needle<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That cleaves to its steady star<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To the uttermost realms of Odin<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And the warlike thunderer, Thor.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Far through the icy silence,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Where the glacier's teeth hang white,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And even the sun-god Baldur,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Looks down in vague affright,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You flutter like startled spectres,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With a prayer on your lips for the goal&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To stand for one thrilling moment<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">At the awful, nameless Pole.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span><span class="i0">But lo! in that hour shall greet you,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">At the end of your perilous path,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A mockery far more bitter<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Than the sting of the frost king's wrath,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For this is the meed you shall gather<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In the lands no man has trod:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The finger that beckoned you onward<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Shall lift and point to God!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>1903</p>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span></p>
+<h2>TO C. 33.</h2>
+
+<p class="center"><small>(Oscar Wilde.)</small></p>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 21em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I gazed upon thee desolate and heard<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Thine anguished cry when fell the iron gin<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That all but broke thy soul, yet gave thy word<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The strength to ask forgiveness of thy sin.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I saw thee fleeing from the cruel light<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of thine own fame; I saw thee hide thy face<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In alien dust to cover up the blight<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Upon thy brow that time may yet erase.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I knew thy creed, although thy lips were mute;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I knew the gods thou didst not dare to own;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I knew the Upas poison at the root<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of thy last flower of song, in prison blown.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And out of all thy woe there came to me<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">This miracle of dogma, like a cry:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"No law but freedom for the vagrant bee&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">No love but summer for the butterfly."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span></p>
+<h2>SILENCE.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 21em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I am the word that lovers leave unsaid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The eloquence of ardent lips grown mute,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The mourning mother's heart-cry for her dead,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The flower of faith that grows to unseen fruit.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I am the speech of prophets when their eyes<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Behold some splendid vision of the soul;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The song of morning stars, the hills' replies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The far call of the immaterial pole.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And, since I must be mateless, I shall win<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">One boon beyond the meed of common clay:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My life shall end where other lives begin,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And live when other lives have passed away.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span></p>
+<h2>COLUMBUS' LAST VOYAGE.</h2>
+
+<p class="center"><small>(Written on the exhumation and reburial in Spain of the bones of
+Christopher Columbus.)</small></p>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 23em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Once more upon the ocean's heaving breast<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">He lays his head, not like the lover bold<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Who in the brave, chivalric days of old<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wooed from her lips the secret of the West,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But like a tired man going to his rest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">No hopes to thrill, no yearnings to inspire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">No tasks to burden, and no toil to tire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No morn to waken to a day of quest.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Again upon the trackless deep,&mdash;again<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">About him as of yore the wild winds play;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Behind him lies the world he gave to men,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Before a grave in old Castile for aye:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Peace, winds and tides! Be calm, thou guardian sky,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The lordliest dust of earth is passing by!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span></p>
+<h2>ATONEMENT.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">You were a red rose then, I know,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Red as her wine&mdash;yea, redder still,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Say rather her blood; and ages ago<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">(You know how destiny hath its will)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I placed you deep in her gorgeous hair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And left you to wither there.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Wine and blood and a red, red rose,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Feast and song and a long, long sleep;&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And which of us dreamed at the drama's close<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That the unforgetful years would keep<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our sin and their vengeance laid away<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As a gift to this bitter day?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Now you are white as the mountain snow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">White as the hand that I fold you in,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And none but the angels of God may know<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That either has once been stained with sin;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It was blood and wine in the old, old years,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But now it is only tears.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And so at the end of our several ways<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">We have met once more, and the truth is clear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That our heart's own blood no surer pays<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">For our sin in the past than atonement here;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But the end has come as God knows best:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now we shall be at rest.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE POET SHEPHERD.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 15em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Down in the vale the lazy sheep<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Are roaming at their will,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But I would be away to weep<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Upon the windy hill,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">For Summer's song is in my heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Her kiss is on my brow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As here I kneel alone, apart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To consecrate our vow.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ah, doubly poor the gift shall be<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That links my soul with hers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For she has given her all to me<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">While I can give but tears!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span></p>
+<h2>OUR DAILY BREAD.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Give us this day our daily bread!" O prayer<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">By Jesus taught, thou hast become a cry<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For starveling mouths in Famine's ghastly lair&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A beggar's plaint when Dives passes by.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">We have forsook the Temple of the Soul<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To carp with sordid tradesmen face to face;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No more we hear the Sinaian thunders roll,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Or Jesus preaching in the market-place.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The money-changers flaunt their silks and gold;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Within the Temple gates they ply their trade,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Forgetful of the Voice that cried of old:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">"A den of thieves my Father's house is made!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span></p>
+<h2>A MOTHER TO THE SEA.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 17em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">You are blue, you are blue like the sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Cruel and cold and blue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I turn from you, voiceless sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To a sky that is voiceless, too.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Upward the vast blue arch,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Downward the blue abyss,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With a line of foam where your lips<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Meet in a passionless kiss.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But the silence is breaking my heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And tears cannot comfort me<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With God in His cold blue sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And my boy in the cold blue sea.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE FEAST OF THE PASSIONS.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 19em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">It wouldn't be fair to Belshazzar<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">When speaking of madness and mirth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To draw from his revel a moral<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">For conscienceless sin in the earth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For 'tis certain the King of Chaldea<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Took note of the hand on the wall,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But here at the Feast of the Passions<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">We never take heed at all.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The same gods grin at the banquet&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The idols of silver and gold&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While we drink from the cups of the Temple<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As they did in the days of old,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But the finger of God is unheeded,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">His warning misunderstood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As "Mene" is written in lightning,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And "Tekel" inscribed in blood.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">No lesson of Nebuchadnezzar<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Turned out with his swinish kin<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Creeps in like a baneful vision<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">At the Babylonian din;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We have stilled the tongue of our Daniel<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Lest sudden he rise and cry:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Behold! thy kingdom is numbered;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">This night shall Belshazzar die!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span><span class="i0">So it wouldn't be just to Belshazzar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">When speaking of madness and mirth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To hold up his feast as a warning<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To conscienceless sin in the earth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For 'tis certain the King of Chaldea<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Took note of the hand on the wall,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But here at the Feast of the Passions<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">We never take heed at all.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE HUMAN WORLD.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 19em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Here is one picture of the human world:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">An unreaped field and Death, the harvester,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Taking his rest beside a gathered sheaf<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of poppy and white lilies. At his side<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Passion, with pilfered hour-glass in her hand<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Jarring the sluggish sands to haste their flow.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE VOW FORSWORN.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 25em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Unweariedly he watches for the sign,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The sign I promised from the farthest goal,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My lover of a world no longer mine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">My human lover with his human soul.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Unweariedly he waits from day to day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Nor knows, as I know now, that when we meet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Twill be as dewdrop on the hawthorn spray,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The ultimate of God at last complete.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He still remembers that my eyes were blue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Still dreams the autumn russet of my hair;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"In God's own time," he said, "I'll come to you;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">You will be waiting; I will find you there!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But now I know that he must never hear<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The message that I promised to impart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For should I breathe the secret in his ear<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">His soul would hearken&mdash;but 'twould break his heart!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span></p>
+<h2>CONFESSION.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 24em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">As one, a poet of a fairy's train,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Might sit beside a violet's stem and view<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Its opening petals, watch the wondrous blue<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thrill through their fibers, and their secret gain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of how the earth and sky and wind and rain<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Had given them life and form and scent and hue,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">So I have gazed into the eyes of you,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Those rare blue eyes, and have not looked in vain;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For they have told me all that I would know,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Even as the violets their secret tell<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unto the wistful spirits of the grove&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Ay, more than this, for, in their tender glow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I've learned their secret, found their winsome spell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The sweet and simple message of their love.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span></p>
+<h2>LOVE AND ART.</h2>
+
+<h3>I.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 25em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Eagle-heart, child-heart, bonnie lad o' dreams,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Far away thy soul hears passion-throated Art<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Singing where the future lies<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Wrapped in hues of Paradise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Pleading with her poignant note<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">That forever seems to float<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Farther down the vista that is calling to thy heart.<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Hearken! From the heights<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Where thy soul alights<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bend thine ear to listen for the lute of Love is sighing:<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">"Eagle-heart, child-heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Love is love, and art is art;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Answer while thy lips are red;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Wilt thou have a barren bed?<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Choose between us which to wed:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Answer, for thy bride awaits, and fragile hours are flying!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>II.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 25em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Eagle-heart, child-heart, bonnie lad o' dreams,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Far away thy soul hears Love's enraptured strain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Calling with her plaintive note,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Pleading lute and pensive oat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Burning, yearning, ever turning back to one refrain:<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">"Choose between us which to wed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Love is love, and art is art;<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span><span class="i4">Wilt thou have a barren bed?<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Joyless mate and bloodless heart?<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">She will bring thee for her dower<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Shrunken limb and shriveled breast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Bitter thralldom, bootless power,<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Days and nights of endless quest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">She will take thee heart and brain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Hold thee with a vampire charm,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Kiss thee cold in every vein,<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Drink thy blood to make her warm!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>III.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 25em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Eagle-heart, child-heart, bonnie lad o' dreams,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Far away thy soul hears passion-throated Art<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Singing from her peaks of snow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Wrapped in pale, unearthly glow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Pleading with her poignant note<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">That forever seems to float<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Farther down the vista that is calling to thy heart.<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Hearken! From the heights<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Where thy soul alights<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lift thy head to listen for the voice of Art is calling:<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">"Eagle-heart, child-heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Love is love, and art is art,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Answer while thy soul is strong;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Love is brief, but art is long;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Love is sighs, but art is song;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Answer, for thy bride awaits, and moonless night is falling!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE SONG OF THE DYNAMO.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 30em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><i>I have been kissed by the Priestess of the Thin and Deadly Blood&mdash;</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i2"><i>With the kiss that men call Lightning, and yet I did not die,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>For the kiss was a message from God; I felt it and understood,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>And I knew how He looked on the cosmic light and called it "Good";</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i2"><i>I thrilled with a vibrant joy; I hummed with ecstasy.</i><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Men hear me sing but they know not the source of my song;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I hold them enthralled with my mysterious eyes;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They quiver when I purr with the voice of a wanton woman;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They touch me and fall dead.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I am a dream of the Creator made visible;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My voice is an echo of the Voice that taught<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The morning stars their choral hymn;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The force that binds me to the marts of men<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is the force that holds the planets in a leash while God<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Drives them in glittering galaxy around the sun.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span><span class="i0">Here I am a weakling's symbol of a power<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That spins the luminous girdle of Saturn in sure hands,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And frames the awful face of God in the shifting boreal light.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My soul is destiny and immortality;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It flashes in the eyes of the tempest, glows along<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The phosphorescent billows where the hand of the Almighty<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is laid for a moment on the breast of the sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the sea smiles;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My soul is the wingless word<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That flies from zone to zone and speaks suddenly out of the void.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">In the years that are to be<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I shall soar like an evil bird over the warring camps of men,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And spew destroying poison.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I shall be the sinew of a strange wing,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A wing that shall bear men into the forge of the thunder and the lightning.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But when I fail the groundlings shall look up<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And see their brothers through the ether plunge,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stricken, a haggard rout of flame-flotillas of the sun!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span><span class="i0">In the years that are to come<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I shall be a servant in the house of men;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I shall breathe unutterable music on the spindle and the loom;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I shall sing, exultant, with the choristers of dreams fulfilled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And light shall be bound like sandals on my feet.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><i>I have been kissed by the Priestess of the Thin and Deadly Blood&mdash;</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i2"><i>With the kiss that men call Lightning, and yet I did not die,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>For the kiss was a message from God; I felt it and understood,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>And I knew how He looked on the cosmic light and called it "Good";</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i2"><i>I thrilled with a vibrant joy; I hummed with ecstasy.</i><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE GOLD FIELDS.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 24em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Here is a tale the North Wind sang to me:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Hell hath set Mammon o'er a frozen land,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Crowned him with gold, put gold into his hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And men forsake their God to bow the knee<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Again unto this world-old deity<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Whose rule is wheresoe'er man's feet go forth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Whether they track the grim and icy North,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or Afric's scorching sweeps of sandy sea.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">About his throne they crawl and curse and weep;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The tenfold pangs of darkness and of cold<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bite at their hearts, and hound them as they creep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Thief-like, to catch his scattered crumbs of gold;&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And over all still burns God's warning scroll:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"What profit it if ye shall lose your soul?"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE WOMAN ANSWERS.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What will I say when face to face with God<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My naked soul shall come, seared with the stain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That men call sin? Why, God will understand;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He knew my pitiful story long before<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My frail dust quickened with the breath of life;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He knew the mystery of that day of days<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When, thrilled with virgin wonder, I should come<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bearing the lily of my stainless love<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To plant upon the desert of desire.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I do not fear His judgment; He knows all.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I do not fear His judgment lest it be<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That I shall look no more upon his face<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who taught my heart to love; and, surely, One<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who wrought a perfect note from these poor strings<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Will not condemn to discord when the strain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Has reached the fullness of its harmony.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I do not fear His judgment, but I weep<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For him who slew the lily with a kiss<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Too full of passion's rapture; if I speak<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In that transcendent moment when I stand<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A sinful woman at the bar of God<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To hear my sentence, I shall answer still:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"I loved him; that was all that I could do;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I love him; that is all that I can say!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE MONASTERY.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Beyond the wall the passion flower is blooming,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Strange hints of life along the winds are blown;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Within, the cowled and silent men are kneeling<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Before an image on a cross of stone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And on their lifted faces, wan as death,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I read this simple message of their faith:<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">"The trail of flame is ashen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">And pleasure's lees are gray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And gray the fruit of passion<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Whose ripeness is decay;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">The stress of life is rancor,<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">A madness born to slay;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">They only miss its canker<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Who live with God and pray."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Beyond the wall lies Babylon, the mighty;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Faint echoes of her songs come drifting by;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Within there is a hymn of consecration,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A psalm that lifts the fervent soul on high;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And yet, sometimes, where bows the hooded choir,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There comes the old call of the World's Desire:<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">"The rose's dust is ashen<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Be petals white or red,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And vain the sighs of passion<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">When summer's light is fled;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">The garden's fruitful measure<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Is crowned with bloom today;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">They only miss its treasure<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Who turn their hearts away."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE PASSION PLAY.</h2>
+
+<h3>I.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Where falls the shadow of the Kofel cross<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Athwart the Alpine snows, the rose of faith<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is blooming still in consecrated hearts,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And holy men another cross have hewn<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whereon the symboled Christ again shall die<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To cleanse the world of sin. Within the vale<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where flows the Ammer like a trail of tears<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon the Holy Mother's face, I see<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The men and women, faithful to their vows,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Breathing the passion of Gethsemane.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I see the Saviour in Jerusalem;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I see the godless traders scourged; I see<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their wares strewn on the temple floor, their doves<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Set free to wander on the roving winds;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I see Iscariot kiss the Nazarene;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I see the hate of Herod, and I hear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The multitude half-sob, half-wail, "The Cross!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then up the Way of Tears to Golgotha,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Crowned with the thorn, and then, last bitter scene,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The mortal death of God's immortal Son.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>II.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The eagle wheels around the Kofel crags;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The chamois leaps the tumbling glacier stream;<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span><span class="i0">The sunbeams dance upon the glistening snows<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like pixies, and the wooded mountain slopes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thrill with the notes of songbirds; hymns of joy<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Break from the forests and the smiling plains,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And where the Ammer winds its silvery way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The wild swan ever follows like a prayer.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who of God's creatures, then, has lost his way?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis not the chamois, eagle or the swan;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis not the mountain torrent, or the birds<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That twitter all day long within the wood;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis not the Ammer flowing to the sea.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who of God's creatures, then, has lost his way?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let us go in the Coliseum where<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The fresh-hewn cross is lifted to the sky;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let us gaze on the reverential throng<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That marks Christ's passion in a silent awe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And think a moment on the world of Man&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Man, made in God's own image, yet the one<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of all God's creatures who has lost his way.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>III.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">When, on the brooding darkness of the void<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wherein the world swung like a tiny star,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Death hovered with his sable wings outspread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Hell yawned far below, God gave to man<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His promise of redemption through the blood<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That dripped from pierced hands high on Calvary&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The mortal death of God's immortal Son.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span><span class="i0">The centuries have crumbled into dust;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cities have risen on the shores of Time,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then passed away like footprints in the sand;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Empires have vanished, kings have laid them down<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In silence, but the word of Him remains<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who cried in agony upon the tree:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Forgive them, for they know not what they do."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Once more the fresh-hewn cross lifts to the sky<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In consecrated Oberammergau;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Once more I see the Christ in humble guise<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Teaching the multitudes, and hear his voice<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In supplication and in parable<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Proclaim his mission to a sinful world.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ah, could the world but gaze upon that Christ<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With heart attuned unto the symboled love<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That makes his face a radiant miracle!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The world hath need of thy great lesson now;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The money-changers throng the Temple gates;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The kiss of Judas burns from lips to brow;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The hate of Herod rankles in the hearts<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of scorners, and the poisoned crown of thorns<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which Greed has woven for humanity,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bites like the chaplet that the Saviour wore<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The day that He was crowned and crucified.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Methinks I see around the shining cross<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Phantoms that shudder when the name of Christ<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is whispered by the multitude; I see<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Grim Avarice with shriveled fingers clutch<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A golden bauble; shrinking by his side,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oppression stands and hugs a clanking chain,<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span><span class="i0">While deeper in the gloom, with eyes aglow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And matted hair still dripping red with gore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sits War, her trembling hand enclasped within<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The spectral hand of Death. O Christus, thou<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To whom it has been given once again<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To symbolize the passion of the cross,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Approach thy task with heart inspired by love,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And when the Saviour's words fall from thy lips,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Be thine the Saviour's exaltation when<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He told the dying thief upon the cross<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That he should be with Him in Paradise.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span></p>
+<h2>INSTRUMENTS.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Today we are the fruits of yesterday<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And what tomorrow shall of us demand,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The helpless tools within the Master's hand<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To do His will and never say Him nay.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He blends our souls with iron, fire or clay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">He shapes our doom according as He planned<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The scheme of life, and who shall understand<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The why He gives, or why He takes away?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Somewhere the universal loom shall catch<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">These broken, flying threads like thee and me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And twined with other broken threads to match<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As fly the years' swift shuttles ceaselessly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So weave them all together one by one,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till lo! the finished woof is brighter than the sun.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span></p>
+<h2>QUATRAINS.</h2>
+
+<h3><i>The Sky Line.</i></h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Like black fangs in a cruel ogre's jaw<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The grim piles lift against the sunset sky;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Down drops the night, and shuts the horrid maw&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I listen, breathless, but there comes no cry.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3><i>Defeat.</i></h3>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 19em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He sits and looks into the west<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Where twilight gathers, wan and gray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A knight who quit the Golden Quest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And flung Excalibur away.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3><i>To an Amazon.</i></h3>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 18em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O! twain in spirit, we shall know<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Thy like no more, so fierce, so mild,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One breast shorn clean to rest the bow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">One milk-full for thy warrior child.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3><i>The Old Mother.</i></h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Life is like an old mother whom trouble and toil<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Have sufficed the best part of her nature to spoil,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whom her children, the Passions, so worry and vex<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That the good are forgot while the evil perplex.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span></p>
+<h3><i>The Call.</i></h3>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 20em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">When the north wind, riding o'er the uplands,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Shouted to the red leaves: "I am Death!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was it fear that sent them all a-flying,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Sighing, flying o'er the withered heath?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3><i>Life.</i></h3>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 17em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Life is just a web of doubt<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Where, with iridescent gleams,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Flickers in or struggles out<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Love, the golden moth of dreams.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3><i>Revelation.</i></h3>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 19em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I called your name, Man-in-the-Grave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And straight her lips grew cold on mine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And then I knew although I have<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Her hand, her heart and soul are thine.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3><i>Tears of Men.</i></h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Men shed their blood for honor or renown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For freedom's sake to nameless graves go down,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But there's one cause alone 'neath heaven above<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For which they shed their tears, and that is&mdash;Love.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span></p>
+<h2>IMMUTABILITY.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 19em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The sun must rise, the sun must set,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Nor ever change in plan may be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Though dawn to stricken wretch may bring<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The hempen rope and gallows tree,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And eventide to happy bride<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Love's crown of love in Arcady.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE FETTERED VULTURES.</h2>
+
+<p class="center"><small>(Battleships of the Coronation Naval Review, Spithead, England, June 24, 1911.)</small></p>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 18em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Hail, sceptered Mars, great god of wars!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Hail, Carnage, queen of blood!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And hail those muffled armaments&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Thy fettered vulture brood!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their sable wings are laureled and<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Their necks are ribboned gay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And silken folds their talons hide<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">This kingly holiday.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Grotesque and grim, in chains of gold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">They go with solemn mien,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their horrid plumes bedizened for<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The eyes of king and queen;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But padded claw and mummer's crest<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Have served not to disguise<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Those iron beaks that thirst for blood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Those wakeful, wolfish eyes.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ten condors with unsated maws,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Four lesser birds of prey,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">An eagle with undaunted eye<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">From Shasta, far away;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A score of birds from many seas,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">All purged of grime and blood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Keep truckling pace the fete to grace,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Mars' fettered vulture brood.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span><span class="i0">But see ye not, great god of wars,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And ye, Britannia's king,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The day when these black birds shall fly<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">On fierce unshackled wing?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When they shall meet 'twixt sea and sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Rend flesh and break the bone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And blood shall trickle through the waves<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To gray old Triton's throne?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Hail, sceptered Mars, great god of wars!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Hail, Carnage, queen of blood!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And hail those muffled armaments,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Thy fettered vulture brood!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And yet Christ's gentle teaching scrolls<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Prophetic on the sky:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Behold! some day thy vulture brood<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Shall go unfed and die!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE DEAD CHILD.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 19em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Life to her was a perfect flower,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And every petal a jeweled hour,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till all at once&mdash;we know not why&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">God sent a frost from His clear blue sky.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Life to her was a fairy rune;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her light feet tripped to the lilting tune,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till all at once&mdash;we know not why&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">God stopped th' enchanting melody.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Life to her was a picture book<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That her glad eyes searched with eager look<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till all at once&mdash;we know not why&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">God put the wondrous volume by.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span></p>
+<h2>NIGHT IN MAY.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 21em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The snowy clouds, soft sleeping lambkins, lie<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Along the dark blue meadows of the sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And the bright stars, like golden daffodils,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are blooming thickly by.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And Luna, gentle shepherdess, the while<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Keeps near her flock and guards it with her smile;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I almost fancy I can hear her song<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Down to this shadowed stile.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Lo! Zephyrus, fond lover, comes to woo;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With airy step he hastes the pastures through,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And steals a kiss from Luna as she nods<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Drowsy with fragrant dew.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">She starts; the little lambs aroused from sleep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fly hence; but Luna near her swain doth keep.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Oh, it was ever thus since lover came<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Twixt shepherdess and sheep!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span></p>
+<h2>DE PROFUNDIS.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I thought today within the crowded mart<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I saw thee for a moment, friend of mine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And all at once my blood leapt fast and fine<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And a new light broke on my shadowed heart.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'T was but a moment that my fancy's art<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Moulded another's features into thine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">For when he passed me by and gave no sign,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The bitter truth came back with sudden start.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then I remembered how the Merlin spell<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of waving arms and woven paces bands<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy dust forever in its four-walled cell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Heedless of all except thy Seer's commands&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Holds thee enraptured with the charms that dwell<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In broken paces and in folded hands.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="trn"><p><b>Transcriber's Note:</b>
+Variant spellings and proper nouns remain as printed.
+Minor typographical errors have been corrected without note,
+whilst significant amendments have been listed below:</p>
+
+<p class="tp1">p. <a href="#Page_8">8</a>, 'pleasuance' amended to <i>pleasaunce</i>;<br />
+'Some decked for the pleasaunce bower'</p>
+
+<p class="tp1">p. <a href="#Page_25">25</a>, 'Homm&eacute;' amended to <i>Homme</i>;<br />
+'The old "Bon Homme Richard's" unlaid ghost'</p></div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
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+Project Gutenberg's Pan and Aeolus: Poems, by Charles Hamilton Musgrove
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Pan and Aeolus: Poems
+
+Author: Charles Hamilton Musgrove
+
+Release Date: November 26, 2008 [EBook #27333]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PAN AND AEOLUS: POEMS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Garcia, Stephen Blundell and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by The Kentuckiana Digital Library)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+           POEMS
+
+
+            BY
+
+ CHARLES HAMILTON MUSGROVE
+
+
+      [Illustration]
+
+
+ JOHN P. MORTON & COMPANY
+       INCORPORATED
+
+   LOUISVILLE, KENTUCKY
+
+
+
+
+       COPYRIGHT, 1913,
+ BY CHARLES HAMILTON MUSGROVE.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+                                 Page
+ A Fugue of Hell                    1
+ Hymn of the Tomb Builders          7
+ The Tornado                       10
+ Voices                            12
+ A Song for the Hills              14
+ Romany                            15
+ Idols                             16
+ Ode to the New Century            18
+ A Clown's Prelude                 21
+ A Legend of Gold                  22
+ The Eagle and the Flower          23
+ Sunset in the City                24
+ The Admiral's Return              25
+ The Dungeoned Anarchist           26
+ At the Play                       27
+ The Derelict                      28
+ Zoroaster                         29
+ The North Wind                    31
+ Where is God?                     32
+ The Story of Moses                34
+ Parthenope to Ulysses             36
+ Death                             37
+ The Light Celestial               38
+ Cupid to a Skull                  39
+ The Passing Race                  40
+ Kenotaphion                       42
+ The Red Cross                     43
+ Midsummer Noon                    44
+ The Snow Man                      45
+ Our Sister of the Streets         46
+ The Earthworm and the Star        48
+ The Riddle of the Sphinx          49
+ The Mothers                       50
+ In the Night                      51
+ Forgiven                          52
+ A Woman, and some Men             53
+ The Newly Dead                    55
+ The First Born                    56
+ The Voice of the North            57
+ To C. 33                          59
+ Silence                           60
+ Columbus' Last Voyage             61
+ Atonement                         62
+ The Poet Shepherd                 63
+ Our Daily Bread                   64
+ A Mother to the Sea               65
+ The Feast of the Passions         66
+ The Human World                   68
+ The Vow Forsworn                  69
+ Confession                        70
+ Love and Art                      71
+ The Song of the Dynamo            73
+ The Gold Fields                   76
+ The Woman Answers                 77
+ The Monastery                     78
+ The Passion Play                  79
+ Instruments                       83
+ Quatrains                         84
+ Immutability                      86
+ The Fettered Vultures             87
+ The Dead Child                    89
+ Night in May                      90
+ De Profundis                      91
+
+
+
+
+PAN AND AEOLUS
+
+
+
+
+A FUGUE OF HELL.
+
+
+I.
+
+    I dreamed a mighty dream. It seemed mine eyes
+    Sealed for the moment were to things terrene,
+    And then there came a strange, great wind that blew
+    From undiscovered lands, and took my soul
+    And set it on an uttermost peak of Hell
+    Amid the gloom and fearful silences.
+    Slowly the darkness paled, and a weird dawn
+    Broke on my wondering vision, and there grew
+    Uncanny phosphorescence in the air
+    Which seemed to throb with some great vital spell
+    Of mystery and doom. With aching eyes
+    I gazed, and lo! the dreadful scene evolved,
+    Black and chaotic, like an awful birth
+    To Desolation, of a lifeless world!
+    My soul in agony cried out to God,
+    When of a sudden all the place grew calm,
+    Save for the trembling of the mountain peaks
+    And the low moaning of the billowy winds
+    Among the abysses. Dull lights here and there
+    Kindled, like wreckage of a city razed
+    By vandals, and the inky sky cupped up
+    Into a black, impenetrable roof....
+    But now from out the chaos there arose
+    Another sound more fearful than the wail
+    Of tempest, or the quake of mighty hills--
+    A mortal cry, a human voice in Hell!
+
+
+II.
+
+    The infernal glare grew brighter, and there came
+    Unto mine ears the sound of many tongues,
+    Mingling discordant curse with bitter cry
+    Of lamentation. On the outer marge
+    Of Hell's domains, set one at each of four
+    Far sundered corners, four volcanoes grim
+    Spewed up their flaming bowels into a sea
+    Of blackness whence no light could issue forth.
+    Beyond this fierce horizon, farther yet
+    Than vision's wing could bear my gaze, I knew
+    Hell's desolate kingdoms stretched their iron wastes,
+    Hell's burning mountains waved their brands of flame,
+    Hell's lava rivers plunged in fury down
+    Their adamantine beds.
+
+                              The human cry
+    Deepened,--the stunning babel shrieked and roared
+    As though some mighty revolution swept
+    The flying hosts along--some pang too keen
+    For the immortal and transcendent pains
+    Of Hell to quench, was burning in their souls.
+
+
+III.
+
+    Slowly mine eyes pierced through the pallid light
+    That crowned the awful place, and then I saw
+    That which shall not be seen of mortal eye
+    Until the final day. I saw the vast
+    Black concourse of Inferno pouring in
+    From Hell's four sides, and gathering at the base
+    Of a stupendous mountain whose great crest
+    Towered high above the glare, and lost itself
+    In blackness. Never met such throng before
+    In Hell or Heaven. Flowing round the mount
+    Like a huge deluge, from afar they came,
+    And near. A dreadful sound was on mine ears,
+    As when the first great call of deep to deep
+    Broke on the natal silence, or as when
+    The wailing cry of universal death
+    Shall shake the pillars of eternity!
+
+    Still came the multitudes, and still the sea
+    Of human souls surged round the iron base
+    Of that mysterious mountain, while afar
+    The dim circumference was added to
+    With newer legions. Conquerors of old,
+    Armored and visored in resplendent steel,
+    Galloped on Hell-steeds, that with one great bound
+    Cleared bottomless canons; then the kings and queens
+    Of Babylon, shorn of their lofty state,
+    Came abject, and with terror in those eyes
+    That once outshone the world; and after them,
+    Myriads who reveled at the feast of life,
+    And when the reeling stupor of their wine
+    Had loosened, woke and found their souls in Hell.
+
+
+IV.
+
+    What horrid crisis, then, I thought, can bring
+    The infernal minions to assemble here
+    Within the shadow of this gloomy peak
+    That seems to thrust aloft its fearful head
+    Even to God's footstool? Then as if there came
+    Answer direct to my soul's questioning,
+    A great voice lifted from the throng, which seemed
+    To bear up heaven-high its might of words,
+    Crying: "Thou wan inheritors of pain,
+    Angels and princes, ministers of Hell,
+    Hearken! The day of all great days is come,
+    Commemorative of that legend old
+    Whose prophecy is that when the time has run
+    A million aeons out, if God relent,
+    A symbol shall be set upon the top
+    Of yonder mount--a blazing star--to tell
+    That hope is not yet dead. O powers of night,
+    Children of woe and darkness! not again
+    Shall Hell know such a gathering as this
+    Until, if hope be not forever fled,
+    The day of our redemption shall arrive!"
+    The voice ceased and a murmur ran through Hell,
+    A fearful whisper, scarcely breathing, "Hope!"
+    Then louder, as when storms begin to blow,
+    Gusty and fitful, and the word was "Hope!"
+    Then, rising like a tempest, swelling high
+    In vast crescendo, swept the human cry,
+    And all Hell's thunderous gamut answered "_Hope!_"
+
+
+V.
+
+    The shouts ceased, and the exultation died
+    Slowly into a sort of empty wail,
+    Half hope and half despair, for still the sign
+    Had not yet blazed upon their eager eyes.
+    Then as I sat in wondering agony,
+    Praying, yet fearing, for the greatest cause
+    That ever souls of men in balance set
+    'Gainst everlasting doom, there rose again
+    The voice of their great leader, Lucifer,
+    The rebel angel, and outcast of God:
+    "Lo, hosts of Hell," he cried, "inheritors
+    Of death diurnal, strangely mingled with
+    Relentless life, what shall we say to God
+    Who waits and watches? Shall we pray or curse,
+    Implore or threaten? Can we move Him thus?
+    Burn not the lightnings yet in His right hand
+    With which He struck us to confusion once?
+    And laughs He not in thunderbolts the same
+    As once pursued our howling flight to Hell?
+    Befits it rather, think ye not, my hosts,
+    That we should send on high in one accord
+    A mighty threnody--a hymn of Hell,
+    Inspired by pain and sung in bitterest woe,
+    As our best offering,--and await His word?"
+
+    He ceased, and for the moment all was still;
+    Then plaintive as the rhythmic dawn of stars
+    Upon a night of sorrow, rose a strain
+    Of lamentation, such as when the sea
+    Makes moan unto an earthquake's inward throes.
+    Then circling outward passed the rising tones
+    Of that sad minstrelsy, and then again
+    Backward it swept like a great tidal wave
+    Of anguish, all Hell's anarchy of grief
+    Set to a sounding fugue. Grim-throated rose
+    The awful hymn, and mingling with the wail
+    Of voices, pealed the cymbals' brassy clang;
+    The thunderous organs bellowed through the gloom,
+    And, rocking Hell's foundations, burst a blare
+    Of stormy trumpets crying: "Woe, woe, woe!"
+    Methought the angels must have wept to hear,
+    Methought their tears had dropt like healing rain
+    Upon the fires of torment, and assuaged
+    Their blazing wrath, so piteous was the strain.
+
+    The music ceased, the echoes sobbed away
+    Like a tumultuous sorrow, when, behold!
+    The black veil lifted from the mountain's crest,
+    And on its glorious summit flamed _the Star_!
+
+
+
+
+HYMN OF THE TOMB BUILDERS.
+
+
+    _They were three old men with hoary hair
+      And beards of wintry gray,
+    And they digged a grave in the yellow soil,
+    And they crooned this song as they plied their toil,
+      In the fading light of day:_
+
+    Hither ye bring your workmen,
+      Like tools that are broken and bent,
+    To pay your due to their cunning
+      After their skill is spent;
+    Hither ye bring them and lay them,
+      And go when your prayers are said,
+    Back where the stress of your living
+      Makes mock of the peace of your dead.
+
+    From the iron-paved roads of traffic,
+      From the shell-scarred fields of war,
+    From the lands of earth's burning girdle
+      To the snows of her uttermost star,
+    Ye bring in your sons and daughters
+      From the glare and the din of today,
+    Giving them back unto silence,
+      And sealing their lips with clay.
+
+    Some drunk with the wine of carnage,
+      Some clothed with the shreds of power,
+    Some stark from the fields of famine,
+      Some decked for the pleasaunce bower,
+    And all with their still clay fingers
+      To their cold clay bosoms laid
+    To sleep from aeon to aeon
+      At the lowly Sign of the Spade.
+
+    Afar through the quickening ages
+      Fell the first keen notes of strife,
+    And they held out their hands in the darkness
+      Toward that blatant boon called life;
+    And they heard the building of empires,
+      And the restless trampling of men,
+    And the dust that was made for heartbreak
+      Grew poignant even then.
+
+    Your bones they are moist with marrow,
+      And with milk your breasts are full;
+    Your hands they are strong and subtle,
+      And your life-blood never dull;
+    But fail at the sword or the plowshare,
+      Or fall at the forge or the wheel,
+    And ye only mar earth's bosom
+      With a wound that her dust will heal.
+
+    Hither ye bring your workmen,
+      And it's ever the tale retold
+    Of the useless tools of the builders,
+      Battered and broken and old;
+    Hither ye bring them and lay them,
+      And go when your prayers are said,
+    For the blood of your living is dearer
+      Than the idle dust of your dead.
+
+    _They were three old men with hoary hair
+      And beards of wintry gray,
+    And they shouldered their spades, for their work was done,
+    And they left behind at the set of sun
+      A grave in the yellow clay._
+
+
+
+
+THE TORNADO.
+
+
+    God let me fall from His hand
+    One day at His forge when the elemental world
+    Was shaping. I am but a breath from His great bellows,
+    But here among the workshops of mankind
+    I am a fateful scourge.
+
+    I tear red strips from the proud cities of men;
+    I name my passage the Highway of Instant Death;
+    I splinter world-old forests with my laugh,
+    And whirl the ancient snows of Hecla sheer into Orion's eyes.
+    I dance on the deep under the big Indian stars,
+    And wrap the water spout about my sinuous hips
+    As a dancer winds her girdle. The ocean's horrid crew,
+    The octopus, the serpent, and the shark, with the heart of a coward,
+    Plunge downward when they hear my feet above on the sea-floor,
+    And hide in their slimy coverts. Brave men pray upon the straining
+              decks
+    Till comes my mood to end them, and I strew the racing foam with
+              wreckage.
+
+    I am a breath from God's forge. I remember His awful workshop,
+    How the hot globes spun off into infinite darkness, as system by
+              system,
+    The universe was wrought; and then I remember the birth of the sun,
+    How God cried: "Let there be light!" and, blinding, bewildering,
+              exulting,
+    The great orb flamed from His furnace, and only the Creator stood
+              upright.
+    In that hour I fell from His hand.
+
+    I am a breath from God's forge,
+    And, being a part of creation, I shall also be a part of the end.
+    He has told me that there shall come a day
+    When the Seventh Angel shall open his last vial of wrath in the
+              mid-air,
+    And in that day I shall dance with the thunder, the lightning, and
+              the earthquake,
+    And, dancing, hear His voice cry out from Heaven's temple: "It is
+              done!"
+
+
+
+
+VOICES.
+
+
+_Earthquake._
+
+    I am a memory of cosmogony,
+    That first great hour of travail when the voice
+    Of God called suns and systems from the void;
+    I am the dream He dreams of that last day
+    When mountains by the roots shall be plucked up
+    And headlong flung into the raging sea!
+
+
+_Hurricane._
+
+    I am the breath that fills the organ pipes
+    When through the vast cathedral of the world
+    Death's stormy threnody sweeps, wave on wave,
+    The symboled note that one day will be blown
+    By a great angel standing in the sun,
+    At which the heaven and earth shall pass away!
+
+
+_Fire._
+
+    I am the letters of that fateful word
+    Writ with a flaming sword above the gates
+    Of Eden when God spelled the doom of man;
+    I am the wrath that on the judgment day
+    Shall waste the seas, and wither up the stars,
+    And roll the heavens together like a scroll!
+
+
+_God._
+
+    I am the earthquake, hurricane and fire!
+    Through them I speak with man as through the stars,
+    The dews, the flowers, and every gentler thing;
+    Some learn my lesson in the paths of peace;
+    Some con it low at desolation's knee;
+    Only the fool hath said: "There is no God!"
+
+
+
+
+A SONG FOR THE HILLS.
+
+
+    Here is the freedom men die for,--die for but never know;
+    Here is the peace they pray for shrined in eternal snow;
+    Down on the plain the city moans with a human cry,
+    But here there is naught but silence,--peace, and the wide, wide sky.
+
+    Here are the dawn's first footfalls, and the twilight's last farewell,
+    The benediction of starlight, and the moon's sweet canticle;
+    Here is one spot as God made it, far from the plainsman's range,
+    Or the march of the cycling seasons with their everlasting change.
+
+    Down on the plain the city moans with a human cry,
+    And the man-gnomes delve and burrow for gold till they drop and die;
+    But here there is naught for conquest and the spoiler stands at bay,
+    For God still keeps one playground where He and His whirlwinds play.
+
+
+
+
+ROMANY.
+
+
+    The city frets in the distance, lass,
+      The city so grim and gray,
+    A glare in the sky by night, my lass,
+      And a blot on the sky by day;
+    But we are out on the long white road,
+      And under the wide free sky,
+    And the song that was born in my heart today
+      Will sing there till I die.
+
+    The long white road and the wide free sky,
+      And the city far away;
+    A good-night kiss in the twilight, lass,
+      And a kiss at the break of day;
+    For light are the loads we bear, my lass,
+      By highway and hill and grove,
+    And the sunlight is all for life, my lass,
+      And the starlight all for love.
+
+
+
+
+IDOLS.
+
+
+I.
+
+    Mouths have they, but they speak not:
+      Yet something in the certainty of faith
+      To their disciples saith:
+    "Believe on me and vengeance I will wreak not."
+    The word that conquers death--
+      The immutable and boundless gift of grace--
+      Dwells in that stony face,
+    And every supplication answereth.
+    Mouths have they, but they speak not;
+      Yet one supernal will that shapes to suit
+    A great decree that can not be belied
+    Utters from voiceless lips those creeds that guide
+      The tribes that never heard
+      The living, saving Word,--
+    That have their dead gods and are satisfied.
+
+
+II.
+
+    Eyes have they, but they see not:
+      Yet the pagan builds his shrine,
+      And keeps his fires divine
+    Forever bright, nor darkly doubts there be not
+      Enough of grace and power
+      Within those eyes that glower
+    To read his soul. To him they are not blind,
+    For some dim, undefined
+      Reward of faith that thrills his untaught breast
+    Links up his baser mind
+    To the clear eyes of God that burn behind
+      The stony brow. It is a creed professed
+    Before a deity not quenched in space,
+      But one to whom his bands
+      Can lift adoring hands,
+    And see and touch and worship face to face.
+
+
+III.
+
+    Ears have they, but they hear not:
+      Yet the heathen kneel and pray,
+      Nor in their madness say:
+    "Thou art no god, and therefore I will fear not;
+      What if I disobey?
+      Thou art but stone or clay."
+    They hear not, but their worshippers impute
+    Them faculties to suit
+      The divination of the prayers they say;
+    And Christ, who understands
+    His children in all lands
+    When from the dark their dying souls have cried,
+      Shrines His great heart of love within the clod
+      The savage calls his god
+    And all idolatry is deified.
+
+
+
+
+ODE TO THE NEW CENTURY.
+
+
+    The dial has pointed the hour and the hour has rounded the day,
+      The day has finished the year that dies with a century's birth;
+    Eastward the morning stars sing as they go their way:
+      "Lo! the Great Mother travaileth, a king is born to the earth!
+    King of a hundred years, and king of a million tombs,
+      Sovereign of infinite joys, keeper of countless tears;
+    Peace to the throneless dead, hail to the ruler who comes,
+      King of a million tombs, and king of a hundred years!"
+
+    Time and his tenant Death, for the space of a moment's flight
+      Stand on the bare, black ridge dividing eternities twain;
+    One looks back to his realm all waste in the hopeless night,
+      One with the eyes of hope sees it rebuilded again.
+    Behind are the gray, gleaned fields with their worthless stubble of
+              graves,
+      Strewn with the thistles of sin, and the trampled chaff of desire;
+    Before are the acres of love, not furrowed by hands of slaves,
+      Not sown with sorrow and strife, not wasted with flood or with fire.
+
+    Great is the hour, my Soul, and great is the wonder to see;
+      Prophet-like dost thou look to yonder portentous sky
+    Where lo! the scroll is unfolding--the scroll of the great To Be:--
+      Look to the east, O Soul, and clear and strong be thine eye!
+    Look to the west where once waved the cherubic sword
+      Over man's Eden lost, and see in the heavens above
+    Not the angels of wrath bearing God's angry word,
+      But the angels of Mercy and Peace, the angels of Hope and of Love.
+
+    Great is the hour, O Soul, and great are the voices to hear--
+      Voices of choral stars, and the calling of deep unto deep
+    Like to the natal hour when rolling sphere upon sphere
+      Sprang from the bosom of God and sang of their limitless sweep!
+    Great is the hour, O Soul, and thou art a seer who looks
+      Far through the mystic night and seeth the great unseen,
+    Truth that to us is blind, and the lies of our prophets' books,
+      Heaven and Hell and the land called Life that lies between.
+
+    The region of shapes called Life, with shadows behind and before--
+      Shadows voiceless as Death, and dark as the sunless tomb,--
+    Shapes whose anguish and strife seem a glimpse of Hell's grim shore--
+      Shadows that gave them life and shadows that hail them home.
+    Great is the hour, O Soul, and great is the wonder to see!
+      Thou art alone with God as he writes on the future's page
+    Two words in letters of fire--(one Doom,--one Mystery,--
+      Alpha the last, and the first Omega) and names it an Age.
+
+[December 31, 1900.]
+
+
+
+
+A CLOWN'S PRELUDE.
+
+
+    Behold! I cover up this trail of tears
+    A moment's weakness left upon my cheek,
+    And hush my heart a little ere I speak
+    Lest the false note ring true on other ears;
+    The music rises and the empty cheers
+    Proclaim the harlequin, and lo! I stand
+    The painted fool again and kiss my hand
+    With jocund air to Folly's worshippers.
+    So day by day life's bitter bread is earned
+    With lips that smile and frame the mirthless joke,
+    And frailer grows the soul that once was strong,--
+    The joyless soul of one whose trade has turned
+    Life's tragic mantle to a jester's cloak,
+    Life's diapason to a jester's song.
+
+
+
+
+A LEGEND OF GOLD.
+
+
+    Lucifer craved one boon of God
+      After his fall, as his own to hold;
+    So He gave him a mite in heaven's sight,
+      But lo! the gift that He gave was--Gold.
+
+    And Lucifer wrought with the rugged ore
+      Till he fashioned it wondrous fair, and then
+    He set a price on the precious store,
+      And the price was the blood and tears of men.
+
+    Blood and tears! and the price was paid;
+      Blood was nothing, and tears were free;
+    And Lucifer smiled at the fools and said:
+      "Surely your souls should belong to me!"
+
+    So he offered the earth with its golden heart,
+      And the seas with their fleets from pole to pole;
+    And they looked with lust on the world-wide mart,
+      And said in their hearts,--"It is worth the soul!"
+
+    And kings were they, and they ruled right well;
+      Gorgeously sped their sovereign day ...
+    But Lucifer hath their souls in Hell,
+      And their gold and their empires--where are they?
+
+
+
+
+THE EAGLE AND THE FLOWER.
+
+
+    The eyrie clung to the shattered cliff
+      That the glacier's torrent thundered under;
+    And the unfledged eaglet's lifted eye
+    Looked out on the world of peak and sky
+          In silent wonder.
+
+    The mountain daisy, dainty white,
+      That grew by the side of the lofty eyrie,
+    Saw the young wings beat on the eagle's breast,
+    And the restless eyes in the fagot-nest
+          Grow grim and fiery.
+
+    The days went by and the wings grew strong,
+      And the crag-built home was at last deserted;
+    But, close to the nest that her love had left,
+    The daisy clung to the rocky cleft,
+          Half broken-hearted.
+
+    The days went by and the wan, white flower
+      Waited and watched in the autumn weather;
+    Far down the valley, far up the height,
+    The forest blazed, and a wizard light
+          Crowned hill and heather.
+
+    And he came at last one eventide,
+      His breast was pierced and his plumes were gory;
+    For home is best when we come to die,
+    And we love the love that our youth puts by,--
+          And there's my story.
+
+
+
+
+SUNSET IN THE CITY.
+
+
+    Down at the end of the iron lane
+      I see the sunset's glare,
+    And the red bars lie across the sky
+      Like steps of a wondrous stair.
+
+    Below, the throng, with unlifted eye,
+      Sweeps on in its heedless flight
+    Where the street's black funnel pours its tide
+      Out into the deepening night.
+
+    And no one has stopped to read God's word
+      On the fiery heavens scrolled
+    Save an old man dreaming of boyhood's days,
+      And a boy who would fain be old.
+
+
+
+
+THE ADMIRAL'S RETURN.
+
+(Written on the occasion of the bringing of the body of Admiral John
+Paul Jones to the United States for reburial.)
+
+
+    Brave ships are these that bear thee home again
+      From under far-off skies--brave flags that fly
+      Above the deck whereon thine ashes lie,
+    Waiting their urn beyond the alien main;
+    The nations pause to view thy funeral train
+      As slowly moving up 'twixt sea and sky
+      It comes with stately pomp, and Liberty
+    Holds out her hands and calls thy name in vain.
+    And yet, mayhap, in vision vague and sweet,
+      Another sight thou seest beyond the boast
+    Of patriot pride--beside the new-born fleet,
+      Spectral and strange, no guest for such a host,
+    Yet making thy home-coming all complete,
+      The old "Bon Homme Richard's" unlaid ghost.
+
+
+
+
+THE DUNGEONED ANARCHIST.
+
+
+    He crouches, voiceless, in his tomb-like cell,
+      Forgot of all things save his jailer's hate
+      That turns the daylight from his iron grate
+    To make his prison more and more a hell;
+    For him no coming day or hour shall spell
+      Deliverance, or bid his soul await
+      The hand of Mercy at his dungeon gate:
+    He would not know even though a kingdom fell!
+    The black night hides his hand before his eyes,--
+      That grim, clenched hand still burning with the sting
+    Of royal blood; he holds it like a prize,
+      Waiting the hour when he at last shall fling
+    The stain in God's face, shrieking as he dies:
+      "Behold the unconquered arm that slew a king!"
+
+
+
+
+AT THE PLAY.
+
+
+    The poet painted a woman's soul,
+      Human, trusting and kind,
+    And then he drew the soul of a man,
+      Brutal and base and blind;
+
+    And the woman loved in the old, old way,
+      And the man in the way of men,
+    And the poet christened their lives "A Play,"
+      And he sat down to watch it, and then ...
+
+    A woman rose with a bitter laugh,
+      And her eyes were as dry as stone
+    As she bowed her head at the poet's stall
+      And said in a strange, cold tone:
+
+    "He paints the best who has dipped his brush
+      In the heart's own blood, they say;
+    You took my love and you took my life,
+      But you gave the world--a play!"
+
+
+
+
+THE DERELICT.
+
+
+    North and south with the fickle tides,
+      With the wind from east to west,
+    The death-ship follows her track of doom,
+      But finds no port or rest.
+
+    Day after day the far white sails
+      Come up and glimmer and die,
+    And night by night the twinkling lights
+      Crawl down the distant sky.
+
+    Day after day her black hull lifts
+      And sinks with the swell's long roll,
+    And the white birds cling to her rotting shrouds
+      Like prayers of a stricken soul,
+
+    But ever the death-ship keeps her track
+      While the ships of men sail on,
+    For God is her skipper and helmsman, too,
+      And knoweth her port alone.
+
+
+
+
+ZOROASTER.
+
+
+I.
+
+    The light of a new day was on his brow,
+    The faith of a great dawn was on his tongue;
+    Out of the dark he raised his voice and sung
+    The high Messiah who should overthrow
+    The gods that Superstition crowned with might
+    And set above the world,--the coming Christ
+    Whose unshed blood should be the holy tryst
+    'Twixt man and his lost Eden, washing white
+    From his rebellious soul the serpent's blight.
+
+
+II.
+
+    The fire that on the Magi's altars glowed
+    Spake to his soul in symbols and expressed
+    The immortal purity that without rest
+    Strives with the mortal grossness whose abode
+    Is in the heart. Their symboled fire showed One
+    Whose spirit on the altar of the world
+    Burns ceaselessly,--where, if all vice be hurled,
+    It shall be purged with fire that shall atone,--
+    Christ's love the flame, man's sin th' alchemic stone.
+
+
+III.
+
+
+    The light of a new day was on his brow,
+    The faith of a great dawn was on his tongue;
+    Above the old Chaldean myths he sung
+    The message of the peace that men should know
+    Through God's own Son. Out of the hopeless night
+    He saw the star of Bethlehem arise,
+    And o'er the wasted gates of Paradise
+    Beheld it mount, and heard, to hail its light,
+    The everlasting groan of hell's despite.
+
+
+
+
+THE NORTH WIND.
+
+I.
+
+    Wind of the North, I know your song
+      Out on the frozen plain,
+    But here in the city's streets you seem
+      Only a cry of pain.
+
+
+II.
+
+    I know the note of your lusty throat
+      Where the black boughs toss and roar,
+    But here it is part of the old, old cry
+      Of the hungry, homeless poor.
+
+
+III.
+
+    I know the song that you sing to God,
+      Joyous and high and wild,
+    But here where His creatures herd and die,
+      'Tis the sob of a little child.
+
+
+
+
+WHERE IS GOD?
+
+(Written during the hostilities in the Far East in 1900.)
+
+
+    Hard by the gates of Eden,
+      Where God first walked with man,
+    In the light of the new creation,
+      Ere the race of Cain began,
+    The world-wide hosts have gathered,
+      And their swords are drawn to slay:
+    God was with man in Eden,
+      But where is God today?
+
+    From the ice-bound steppes of the Cossack;
+      From the home of the fleur-de-lis,
+    From the vineyards that crown the Rhineland
+      To the shores of the phosphor sea,
+    The clans have gathered for battle,
+      And each for the signal waits,
+    While a million swords are flaming
+      At Eden's Eastern gates.
+
+    By the sign of the yellow dragon,
+      By the tri-color's bars of light;
+    By the double-throated eagle
+      That screams with the lust of fight,
+    By the Union Jack of Britannia,
+      By Columbia's stars and bars,
+    They pray to the god of battle
+      For the meed of a hundred wars.
+
+    Hard by the gates of Eden,
+      Where the passion flower of strife
+    First bloomed at its blood-red altar
+      At the price of a brother's life,
+    The children of Cain are gathered
+      To plunder and burn and slay:
+    God was with man in Eden,
+      But where is God today?
+
+
+
+
+THE STORY OF MOSES.
+
+
+    This is the story of Moses,
+      The earliest scribe that we keep:
+    Void was the earth and formless,
+      And dark was the face of the deep,
+    Till God's word flashed in lightning,
+      Beautiful, bountiful, bright,
+    And night was the name of the darkness,
+      And day was the name of the light.
+
+    This is the story of Moses--
+      (Doubt it, if ever you can)--
+    The world was too good to begin with,
+      So God made Adam, the man;
+    And for Adam He made the woman,
+      And He gave them laws to obey;
+    And, lastly, He sent the serpent
+      To follow and tempt and betray.
+
+    This is the story of Moses--
+      Eve got a man from the Lord,
+    And his name was Cain, and another
+      Called Abel, the evil-starred;
+    And the brothers quarreled at their worship,
+      And Abel, the meek, was slain,
+    And Death shook hands with the slayer,
+      His first and best friend, Cain.
+
+    This is the story of Moses
+      Of how our people began,
+    Of the broken law and the bloodshed--
+      First fruits of the God-sent man;
+    This is the story of Moses,
+      The earliest scribe who writ,
+    And all the scribes who are writing
+      Don't vary the tale a whit.
+
+
+
+
+PARTHENOPE TO ULYSSES.
+
+
+    O king! what is the quest that evermore
+      Foredooms thy feet to roam, yet blinds thine eyes?
+      Why seek ye still for life's imperfect prize,
+    Or turn thy weary sail from shore to shore,
+    When here thou layest aside the ills of yore
+      To calm thy soul with dreams? Let it suffice--
+      This heart-sick burden of the worldly-wise--
+    That ye have borne it and the task is o'er,
+    Here see the world fade like a spark of fire,
+      While all thy restless ways grow full of peace,
+    And wear the fittest crown for them that tire
+      Their souls with life's unraveled mysteries,--
+    Above the old red roses of desire
+      The languid lotus of desire's surcease!
+
+
+
+
+DEATH.
+
+
+    I am the outer gate of life where sit
+      Faith and Unfaith, those two interpreters
+    That spell in diverse ways what God has writ
+      In symbols on the archway of the years.
+
+    Backward I swing for many feet to pass;
+      Some come in stormy haste, some grave and slow,
+    And all like windy shadows on the grass:
+      Beyond my pale I know not where they go.
+
+
+
+
+THE LIGHT CELESTIAL.
+
+(Written on the ter-centenary of John Milton, December 9, 1908.)
+
+
+    Immortal singer, in whose glorious brain
+      Unearthly melodies were born to make
+      A nocturn for the blessed Master's sake,
+    I see thee pass through heaven's gates again;
+    I hear thee singing that majestic strain,
+      Which soothed the heart affliction could not break,
+      And proved the faith no worldly ills could shake;
+    And then I see thee join God's holy train,
+      But, wonder of all wonders! where the light
+      Breaks from a thousand suns, the seraphs, shod
+    With flaming sandals, lead thee; and my sight
+      Dims with the vision, till fresh from His rod,
+    I see thee lift those orbs, once quenched in night,
+      And gaze into the steadfast eyes of God!
+
+
+
+
+CUPID TO A SKULL.
+
+
+    I came your way in the years gone by,
+      In the summers that now are old,
+    And then there was light in your beaming eye,
+    And love was living and hopes were high
+      At the Sign of the Heart of Gold.
+
+    I come today and the lights are fled,
+      And the trail of the mold and rust
+    Has saddened the hall where the feast was spread,
+    And love has vanished and youth is dead
+      At the Sign of the Heart of Dust.
+
+
+
+
+THE PASSING RACE.
+
+
+I.
+
+    Silent as ever, stoic as of old,
+    The scattered nomads of that dusky race
+    Whose story shall forever be untold,
+    Sit mid the ruins of their dwelling place
+    And watch the white man's empire grow apace.
+    Passive as one who knows his earthly doom,
+    And only waits with calm but hopeless face
+    The while the seasons go with blight and bloom,
+    So live they day by day beside their nation's tomb.
+
+
+II.
+
+    In the deep woods and by the rolling streams
+    They made their home, and knew no other clime;
+    They lived their lives and dreamed barbaric dreams,
+    Nor heard the menace of relentless Time
+    As on his thunderous legions swept sublime
+    Bearing the torch of progress through the night,
+    Till lo! the primal wastes were all a-chime
+    With traffic's strange new music, and the might
+    Of busy hordes that wrought to spread the new-born light.
+
+
+III.
+
+    They were strange wanderers on life's sad deep,
+    And paused a moment in God's mystic plan
+    A little vigil on time's shores to keep,
+    Then passed forever from the tribes of man.
+    They heard a voice and a strange face did scan,
+    And what of conquest or of kingly sway
+    Had filled their dreams, they gave the white man's clan,
+    And with the dawning of a wondrous day,
+    They spread their sails again and, voiceless, passed away.
+
+
+IV.
+
+    Silent as ever, stoic as of old,
+    Their children sit with empty hands to wait
+    The sequel that the future shall unfold,--
+    The unwritten "Finis" of remorseless fate.
+    Vanquished they stand before oblivion's gate,
+    Knowing that soon the everlasting seal
+    Of destiny shall all obliterate
+    Their finished story, which, for woe or weal,
+    Shall be with Him who writ to hide or to reveal.
+
+
+
+
+KENOTAPHION.
+
+
+    O wanderer! whoever thou mayest be,
+      I beg of thee to pass in silence here
+      And leave me with my empty sepulchre
+    Beside the ceaseless turmoil of the sea;
+    Pass me as one whom life's old tragedy
+      Hath made distraught--who now in dreams doth keep
+      His cherished dead, unmindful of her sleep
+    In ocean's bosom locked eternally!
+    Scorn not the foolish grave that I have made
+      Beside the deep sea of my soul's unrest,
+    But let me hope that when the storms are stayed
+      My phantom ship shall sail from out the west
+    Bringing the boon for which I long have prayed--
+      The broken vigil and the ended quest.
+
+
+
+
+THE RED CROSS.
+
+
+    St. George, I learned to love thee in my youth
+      When of thy deeds I read in deathless song;
+      And now, when I behold the dragon Wrong
+    Hard by the castle-gates of Love and Truth,
+    I feel the world's great need of thee, forsooth,
+      To strike the heavy blow delayed too long.
+      Then turning from the mediaeval throng,
+    Where thou wert bravest, yet the first in ruth,
+    I watch thy votaries by land and sea
+      Armed with thy sacred sign go forth to fight
+    Anew the battle of humanity
+      Beneath the flag of mercy and of right;
+    No holier band a holier realm e'er trod
+    Than this--the world's knight-errantry of God!
+
+
+
+
+MIDSUMMER NOON.
+
+
+    Through shimmering skies the big clouds slowly sail;
+      A faint breeze lingers in the rustling beech;
+      Atop the withered oak with vagrant speech
+    The brawling crows call down the sleepy vale;
+    Unseen the glad cicadas trill their tale
+      Of deep content in changeless vibrant screech,
+      And where the old fence rambles out of reach,
+    The drowsy lizard hugs the shaded rail.
+    Warm odors from the hayfield wander by,
+      Afar the homing reaper's noontide tune
+    Floats on the mellow stillness like a sigh;
+      One butterfly, ghost of a vanished June,
+    Soars dimly where in realms of purple sky
+      Dips the wan crescent of the vapory moon.
+
+
+
+
+THE SNOW MAN.
+
+
+    Poor shape grotesque that careless hands have wrought!
+      Frail wistful thing, left gaping at the sun
+      With empty grin, 'tis well no blood shall run
+    Within thy frozen veins, no kindling thought
+    Light up those eyeless sockets wherein naught
+      But hate could dwell if once they flashed the fire
+      Of being, or the doom-gift of Desire
+    Should curse thy life, unbidden and unsought.
+    Poor snow man with thy tattered hat awry,
+      And broomstick musket toppling from thy hands,
+    'Tis well thou hast no language to decry
+      Thy poor creator or his vain commands;
+    No tear to shed that thou so soon must die,
+      No voice to lift in prayer where no god understands!
+
+
+
+
+OUR SISTER OF THE STREETS.
+
+
+    She comes not with the conscious grace
+      Of gentle, winsome womanhood,
+    Nor yet, withal, the flaunting face
+      Of men and women understood,
+    But rather as a thing apart,
+      A wind-blown petal of a rose,
+    A specter with a specter's heart
+      That cometh once--and goes.
+
+    Her eyes some trace of cold, white light
+      Within their haunted depths still hold,
+    Though hunger's fever made them bright,
+      And lack of pity made them cold.
+    We know her when she passes by,
+      Whom no one loves or chides or greets--
+    The woman with the cold, bright eye--
+      Our sister of the streets.
+
+    We know the tawdry arts she tries,
+      The tint of cheek, the gold of hair,
+    To mimic nature for the eyes
+      Of those who scorn her paltry care,
+    And spurn those charms--if aught abide
+      Within her beauty's narrowed scope--
+    Now touched with less a wanton's pride
+      Than with an outcast's hope.
+
+    We know her in the blatant crowd,
+      And feel her, as we feel, in fine,
+    The eyes' remembrance of a cloud,
+      The lips' faint bitterness of brine;
+    We know her when she passes by,
+      Whom no one loves or chides or greets--
+    The woman with the cold, bright eye--
+      Our sister of the streets.
+
+
+
+
+THE EARTHWORM AND THE STAR.
+
+
+    An Earthworm once loved a Star. In the hush of the summer night,
+    He lay quite close to the ground and gazed on its golden light;
+    He looked from his house of clay, and dreamed of wonderful things,
+    Till, lo! (as he thought) his longing brought forth miraculous wings.
+
+    The Butterfly soared in the air, straight toward the beckoning spark;
+    His wings grew weary and chill, but the Star smiled through the dark;
+    His wings grew heavy and cold, the wings that he dreamed love gave,
+    And he folded them there in the starlight, and the dust became his
+              grave.
+
+
+
+
+THE RIDDLE OF THE SPHINX.
+
+
+    From age to age the haggard human train
+      Creeps wearily across Time's burning sands
+      To look into her face, and lift weak hands
+    In supplication to the calm disdain
+    That crowns her stony brow.... But all in vain
+      The riddle of mortality they try:
+      Doom speaks still from her unrelenting eye--
+    Doom deep as passion, infinite as pain.
+    From age to age the voice of Love is heard
+      Pleading above the tumult of the throng,
+    But evermore the inexorable word
+      Comes like the tragic burden of a song.
+    "The answer is the same," the stern voice saith:
+    "Death yesterday, today and still tomorrow--Death!"
+
+
+
+
+THE MOTHERS.
+
+
+    Beyond the tumult and the proud acclaim,
+      Beyond the circle where the glory beats
+      With withering light upon the mighty seats,
+    They hear the far-resounding trump of fame;
+    On other lips they hear the one-loved name
+      In vaunting or derision, and they weep
+      To know that they shall never lull to sleep
+    Those tired heads, crowned with desolating flame.
+    Beyond the hot arena's baleful glow,
+      Beyond the towering pomp they dimly see,
+    They sit and watch the fateful pageants go
+      Through war's red arch, or up to Calvary,
+    The First Love still within their hearts impearled--
+    Mothers of all the masters of the world!
+
+
+
+
+IN THE NIGHT.
+
+
+_The Child._
+
+    I hear you weeping, mother, dear,--
+      I hear you wake and weep;
+    What brings the tears into your eyes
+      When you should be asleep?
+    I hear my name upon your lips;
+      What is it that you say
+    Of one who broke a trusting heart,
+      But now is far away?
+
+
+_The Mother._
+
+    I weep for you, my pretty lass,
+      Frail flower of love unblessed,
+    Because I can not always hold
+      You close unto my breast;
+    I weep that you some day must go
+      Alone your way to find,
+    For, oh, you have your mother's eyes,
+      And men are seldom kind!
+
+
+
+
+FORGIVEN.
+
+
+    I might have met his anger with a smile
+      For so it was that I had set my heart
+    To mask deception with a wanton's guile,
+      And save the tears that now begin to start.
+
+    I might have worn my guilty crown of thorn,--
+      Yea, even worn it gladly like a prize;
+    But, oh! more bitter than his rage or scorn,
+      He left me with forgiveness in his eyes.
+
+
+
+
+A WOMAN, AND SOME MEN.
+
+
+    Once in a dream of Babylon
+      I sat with Lilith and Cain
+    At the world-old drama, "From God to God,"
+      In the House of Things Profane;
+    Trumpets and lights, and the players
+      Swung to the stage, and then
+    I saw as I looked in their faces
+      A woman, and some men.
+
+    Men with the eyes of the psalmist,
+      Men with the hearts of Saul,
+    Strong with the wine of valor,
+      But faint with the woman's thrall;
+    Calm were her eyes as she held them
+      Charmed to her soulless sway,
+    For she had the face of the Magdalene,
+      And the heart of Aholiba.
+
+    Wine and kisses and gusty words,
+      Kisses and wine again,
+    And her lips and brow were red with stains
+      From the hairy mouths of men,
+    Red as the stain on the brow of Cain
+      That burned with his Maker's hate,
+    Or the lips of the witch that Adam loved
+      Ere God revealed his mate.
+
+    Trumpets and lights and the players
+      Swung from the stage, and then
+    The curtain fell on the drama
+      Of a woman and some men;
+    While cleaving the dome of the temple
+      Fell the Avenger's rod,
+    And lo! when I looked again I saw
+      We were face to face with God.
+
+    And Lilith, the witch, dropped down and prayed
+      That her child a soul might have,
+    And the blood red stain on the brow of Cain
+      Be wiped out in the grave;
+    And this was my dream of Babylon
+      When I sat with Lilith and Cain
+    At the world-old drama, "From God to God,"
+      In the House of Things Profane.
+
+
+
+
+THE NEWLY DEAD.
+
+
+I.
+
+    With the light just quenched in their eyes
+    They lie in their graves 'neath the skies,
+    And the fresh clod rests
+    Heavy upon their breasts.
+    The white rose dies
+    Upon the new-made mound, and underneath
+    The lily shrivels in the shriveling hand.
+    Pale guests of sovereign Death,
+    They sought their silent beds at his command,
+    And it seems
+    Strange that their life-long dreams
+    Shall find them no more,--never bid them arise
+    And go forth with a glory in their eyes.
+
+
+II.
+
+    Still, voiceless, cold,
+    They lie in their shrouds and hold
+    The crumbling links that make
+    A chain for Memory's sake,
+    Broken, alas! too soon.
+    Blithe morn and brazen noon
+    And eve with garb of gray and gold,
+    Know them no more in the dark ways they take.
+    They have forgot the sun,
+    And the fiery worlds that run
+    About it. Something--(what, let no man say,)--
+    Begot of mystery is in mystery done:
+    The rest shall be with them and God alway.
+
+
+
+
+THE FIRST BORN.
+
+
+I.
+
+    "He has eyes like the Christ,"
+      The mother said, and smiled;
+    "He will be wise and good,
+      My wondering little child.
+    God grant him strength to do
+      Whate'er his tasks may be,
+    But spare him, if Thou wilt,
+      O, spare him Calvary!"
+
+
+II.
+
+    Grim where the black bars cast
+      Their shadows o'er his bed,
+    He waits to pay the cost
+      Of blood his hands have shed.
+    The mother kneels and sobs:
+      "God, he shall always be,
+    In spite of Cain's red brand,
+      A stainless child to me."
+
+
+
+
+THE VOICE OF THE NORTH.
+
+
+    You have builded your ships in the sun-lands,
+      And launched them with song and wine;
+    They are boweled with your stanchest engines,
+      And masted with bravest pine;
+    You have met in your closet councils,
+      With your plans and your prayers to God
+    For a fortunate wind to waft you
+      Where never a foot has trod.
+
+    And now you follow the polar star
+      To the seat of the old Norse Kings,
+    Past the death-white halls of Valhalla,
+      Where the Norn to the tempest sings--
+    Follow the steady needle
+      That cleaves to its steady star
+    To the uttermost realms of Odin
+      And the warlike thunderer, Thor.
+
+    Far through the icy silence,
+      Where the glacier's teeth hang white,
+    And even the sun-god Baldur,
+      Looks down in vague affright,
+    You flutter like startled spectres,
+      With a prayer on your lips for the goal--
+    To stand for one thrilling moment
+      At the awful, nameless Pole.
+
+    But lo! in that hour shall greet you,
+      At the end of your perilous path,
+    A mockery far more bitter
+      Than the sting of the frost king's wrath,
+    For this is the meed you shall gather
+      In the lands no man has trod:
+    The finger that beckoned you onward
+      Shall lift and point to God!
+
+1903
+
+
+
+
+TO C. 33.
+
+(Oscar Wilde.)
+
+
+    I gazed upon thee desolate and heard
+      Thine anguished cry when fell the iron gin
+    That all but broke thy soul, yet gave thy word
+      The strength to ask forgiveness of thy sin.
+
+    I saw thee fleeing from the cruel light
+      Of thine own fame; I saw thee hide thy face
+    In alien dust to cover up the blight
+      Upon thy brow that time may yet erase.
+
+    I knew thy creed, although thy lips were mute;
+      I knew the gods thou didst not dare to own;
+    I knew the Upas poison at the root
+      Of thy last flower of song, in prison blown.
+
+    And out of all thy woe there came to me
+      This miracle of dogma, like a cry:
+    "No law but freedom for the vagrant bee--
+      No love but summer for the butterfly."
+
+
+
+
+SILENCE.
+
+
+    I am the word that lovers leave unsaid,
+      The eloquence of ardent lips grown mute,
+    The mourning mother's heart-cry for her dead,
+      The flower of faith that grows to unseen fruit.
+
+    I am the speech of prophets when their eyes
+      Behold some splendid vision of the soul;
+    The song of morning stars, the hills' replies,
+      The far call of the immaterial pole.
+
+    And, since I must be mateless, I shall win
+      One boon beyond the meed of common clay:
+    My life shall end where other lives begin,
+      And live when other lives have passed away.
+
+
+
+
+COLUMBUS' LAST VOYAGE.
+
+(Written on the exhumation and reburial in Spain of the bones of
+Christopher Columbus.)
+
+
+    Once more upon the ocean's heaving breast
+      He lays his head, not like the lover bold
+      Who in the brave, chivalric days of old
+    Wooed from her lips the secret of the West,
+    But like a tired man going to his rest,
+      No hopes to thrill, no yearnings to inspire,
+      No tasks to burden, and no toil to tire,
+    No morn to waken to a day of quest.
+    Again upon the trackless deep,--again
+      About him as of yore the wild winds play;
+    Behind him lies the world he gave to men,
+      Before a grave in old Castile for aye:
+    Peace, winds and tides! Be calm, thou guardian sky,--
+    The lordliest dust of earth is passing by!
+
+
+
+
+ATONEMENT.
+
+
+    You were a red rose then, I know,
+      Red as her wine--yea, redder still,--
+    Say rather her blood; and ages ago
+      (You know how destiny hath its will)
+    I placed you deep in her gorgeous hair,
+    And left you to wither there.
+
+    Wine and blood and a red, red rose,--
+      Feast and song and a long, long sleep;--
+    And which of us dreamed at the drama's close
+      That the unforgetful years would keep
+    Our sin and their vengeance laid away
+    As a gift to this bitter day?
+
+    Now you are white as the mountain snow,
+      White as the hand that I fold you in,
+    And none but the angels of God may know
+      That either has once been stained with sin;
+    It was blood and wine in the old, old years,
+    But now it is only tears.
+
+    And so at the end of our several ways
+      We have met once more, and the truth is clear
+    That our heart's own blood no surer pays
+      For our sin in the past than atonement here;
+    But the end has come as God knows best:
+    Now we shall be at rest.
+
+
+
+
+THE POET SHEPHERD.
+
+
+    Down in the vale the lazy sheep
+      Are roaming at their will,
+    But I would be away to weep
+      Upon the windy hill,
+
+    For Summer's song is in my heart,
+      Her kiss is on my brow,
+    As here I kneel alone, apart,
+      To consecrate our vow.
+
+    Ah, doubly poor the gift shall be
+      That links my soul with hers,
+    For she has given her all to me
+      While I can give but tears!
+
+
+
+
+OUR DAILY BREAD.
+
+
+    "Give us this day our daily bread!" O prayer
+      By Jesus taught, thou hast become a cry
+    For starveling mouths in Famine's ghastly lair--
+      A beggar's plaint when Dives passes by.
+
+    We have forsook the Temple of the Soul
+      To carp with sordid tradesmen face to face;
+    No more we hear the Sinaian thunders roll,
+      Or Jesus preaching in the market-place.
+
+    The money-changers flaunt their silks and gold;
+      Within the Temple gates they ply their trade,
+    Forgetful of the Voice that cried of old:
+      "A den of thieves my Father's house is made!"
+
+
+
+
+A MOTHER TO THE SEA.
+
+
+    You are blue, you are blue like the sky,
+      Cruel and cold and blue,
+    And I turn from you, voiceless sea,
+      To a sky that is voiceless, too.
+
+    Upward the vast blue arch,
+      Downward the blue abyss,
+    With a line of foam where your lips
+      Meet in a passionless kiss.
+
+    But the silence is breaking my heart,
+      And tears cannot comfort me
+    With God in His cold blue sky,
+      And my boy in the cold blue sea.
+
+
+
+
+THE FEAST OF THE PASSIONS.
+
+
+    It wouldn't be fair to Belshazzar
+      When speaking of madness and mirth,
+    To draw from his revel a moral
+      For conscienceless sin in the earth,
+    For 'tis certain the King of Chaldea
+      Took note of the hand on the wall,
+    But here at the Feast of the Passions
+      We never take heed at all.
+
+    The same gods grin at the banquet--
+      The idols of silver and gold--
+    While we drink from the cups of the Temple
+      As they did in the days of old,
+    But the finger of God is unheeded,
+      His warning misunderstood,
+    As "Mene" is written in lightning,
+      And "Tekel" inscribed in blood.
+
+    No lesson of Nebuchadnezzar
+      Turned out with his swinish kin
+    Creeps in like a baneful vision
+      At the Babylonian din;
+    We have stilled the tongue of our Daniel
+      Lest sudden he rise and cry:
+    "Behold! thy kingdom is numbered;
+      This night shall Belshazzar die!"
+
+    So it wouldn't be just to Belshazzar,
+      When speaking of madness and mirth,
+    To hold up his feast as a warning
+      To conscienceless sin in the earth,
+    For 'tis certain the King of Chaldea
+      Took note of the hand on the wall,
+    But here at the Feast of the Passions
+      We never take heed at all.
+
+
+
+
+THE HUMAN WORLD.
+
+
+    Here is one picture of the human world:
+    An unreaped field and Death, the harvester,
+    Taking his rest beside a gathered sheaf
+    Of poppy and white lilies. At his side
+    Passion, with pilfered hour-glass in her hand
+    Jarring the sluggish sands to haste their flow.
+
+
+
+
+THE VOW FORSWORN.
+
+
+    Unweariedly he watches for the sign,
+      The sign I promised from the farthest goal,
+    My lover of a world no longer mine,
+      My human lover with his human soul.
+
+    Unweariedly he waits from day to day,
+      Nor knows, as I know now, that when we meet,
+    'Twill be as dewdrop on the hawthorn spray,--
+      The ultimate of God at last complete.
+
+    He still remembers that my eyes were blue,
+      Still dreams the autumn russet of my hair;
+    "In God's own time," he said, "I'll come to you;
+      You will be waiting; I will find you there!"
+
+    But now I know that he must never hear
+      The message that I promised to impart,
+    For should I breathe the secret in his ear
+      His soul would hearken--but 'twould break his heart!
+
+
+
+
+CONFESSION.
+
+
+    As one, a poet of a fairy's train,
+      Might sit beside a violet's stem and view
+      Its opening petals, watch the wondrous blue
+    Thrill through their fibers, and their secret gain
+    Of how the earth and sky and wind and rain
+      Had given them life and form and scent and hue,--
+      So I have gazed into the eyes of you,
+    Those rare blue eyes, and have not looked in vain;
+    For they have told me all that I would know,
+      Even as the violets their secret tell
+    Unto the wistful spirits of the grove--
+      Ay, more than this, for, in their tender glow,
+    I've learned their secret, found their winsome spell,
+      The sweet and simple message of their love.
+
+
+
+
+LOVE AND ART.
+
+
+I.
+
+    Eagle-heart, child-heart, bonnie lad o' dreams,
+    Far away thy soul hears passion-throated Art
+        Singing where the future lies
+        Wrapped in hues of Paradise,
+        Pleading with her poignant note
+        That forever seems to float
+    Farther down the vista that is calling to thy heart.
+        Hearken! From the heights
+        Where thy soul alights
+    Bend thine ear to listen for the lute of Love is sighing:
+        "Eagle-heart, child-heart,
+        Love is love, and art is art;
+        Answer while thy lips are red;
+        Wilt thou have a barren bed?
+        Choose between us which to wed:
+    Answer, for thy bride awaits, and fragile hours are flying!"
+
+
+II.
+
+    Eagle-heart, child-heart, bonnie lad o' dreams,
+    Far away thy soul hears Love's enraptured strain,
+        Calling with her plaintive note,
+        Pleading lute and pensive oat,
+    Burning, yearning, ever turning back to one refrain:
+        "Choose between us which to wed;
+          Love is love, and art is art;
+        Wilt thou have a barren bed?
+          Joyless mate and bloodless heart?
+        She will bring thee for her dower
+          Shrunken limb and shriveled breast,
+        Bitter thralldom, bootless power,
+          Days and nights of endless quest,
+        She will take thee heart and brain,
+          Hold thee with a vampire charm,
+        Kiss thee cold in every vein,
+          Drink thy blood to make her warm!"
+
+
+III.
+
+    Eagle-heart, child-heart, bonnie lad o' dreams,
+    Far away thy soul hears passion-throated Art
+        Singing from her peaks of snow,
+        Wrapped in pale, unearthly glow,
+        Pleading with her poignant note
+        That forever seems to float
+    Farther down the vista that is calling to thy heart.
+        Hearken! From the heights
+        Where thy soul alights
+    Lift thy head to listen for the voice of Art is calling:
+        "Eagle-heart, child-heart,
+        Love is love, and art is art,
+        Answer while thy soul is strong;
+        Love is brief, but art is long;
+        Love is sighs, but art is song;
+    Answer, for thy bride awaits, and moonless night is falling!"
+
+
+
+
+THE SONG OF THE DYNAMO.
+
+
+    _I have been kissed by the Priestess of the Thin and Deadly Blood--
+      With the kiss that men call Lightning, and yet I did not die,
+    For the kiss was a message from God; I felt it and understood,
+    And I knew how He looked on the cosmic light and called it "Good";
+      I thrilled with a vibrant joy; I hummed with ecstasy._
+
+    Men hear me sing but they know not the source of my song;
+    I hold them enthralled with my mysterious eyes;
+    They quiver when I purr with the voice of a wanton woman;
+    They touch me and fall dead.
+    I am a dream of the Creator made visible;
+    My voice is an echo of the Voice that taught
+    The morning stars their choral hymn;
+    The force that binds me to the marts of men
+    Is the force that holds the planets in a leash while God
+    Drives them in glittering galaxy around the sun.
+
+    Here I am a weakling's symbol of a power
+    That spins the luminous girdle of Saturn in sure hands,
+    And frames the awful face of God in the shifting boreal light.
+    My soul is destiny and immortality;
+    It flashes in the eyes of the tempest, glows along
+    The phosphorescent billows where the hand of the Almighty
+    Is laid for a moment on the breast of the sea,
+    And the sea smiles;
+    My soul is the wingless word
+    That flies from zone to zone and speaks suddenly out of the void.
+
+    In the years that are to be
+    I shall soar like an evil bird over the warring camps of men,
+    And spew destroying poison.
+    I shall be the sinew of a strange wing,--
+    A wing that shall bear men into the forge of the thunder and the
+              lightning.
+    But when I fail the groundlings shall look up
+    And see their brothers through the ether plunge,
+    Stricken, a haggard rout of flame-flotillas of the sun!
+
+    In the years that are to come
+    I shall be a servant in the house of men;
+    I shall breathe unutterable music on the spindle and the loom;
+    I shall sing, exultant, with the choristers of dreams fulfilled,
+    And light shall be bound like sandals on my feet.
+
+    _I have been kissed by the Priestess of the Thin and Deadly Blood--
+      With the kiss that men call Lightning, and yet I did not die,
+    For the kiss was a message from God; I felt it and understood,
+    And I knew how He looked on the cosmic light and called it "Good";
+      I thrilled with a vibrant joy; I hummed with ecstasy._
+
+
+
+
+THE GOLD FIELDS.
+
+
+    Here is a tale the North Wind sang to me:
+      Hell hath set Mammon o'er a frozen land,
+      Crowned him with gold, put gold into his hand,
+    And men forsake their God to bow the knee
+    Again unto this world-old deity
+      Whose rule is wheresoe'er man's feet go forth,
+      Whether they track the grim and icy North,
+    Or Afric's scorching sweeps of sandy sea.
+    About his throne they crawl and curse and weep;
+      The tenfold pangs of darkness and of cold
+    Bite at their hearts, and hound them as they creep,
+      Thief-like, to catch his scattered crumbs of gold;--
+    And over all still burns God's warning scroll:
+    "What profit it if ye shall lose your soul?"
+
+
+
+
+THE WOMAN ANSWERS.
+
+
+    What will I say when face to face with God
+    My naked soul shall come, seared with the stain
+    That men call sin? Why, God will understand;
+    He knew my pitiful story long before
+    My frail dust quickened with the breath of life;
+    He knew the mystery of that day of days
+    When, thrilled with virgin wonder, I should come
+    Bearing the lily of my stainless love
+    To plant upon the desert of desire.
+    I do not fear His judgment; He knows all.
+
+    I do not fear His judgment lest it be
+    That I shall look no more upon his face
+    Who taught my heart to love; and, surely, One
+    Who wrought a perfect note from these poor strings
+    Will not condemn to discord when the strain
+    Has reached the fullness of its harmony.
+
+    I do not fear His judgment, but I weep
+    For him who slew the lily with a kiss
+    Too full of passion's rapture; if I speak
+    In that transcendent moment when I stand
+    A sinful woman at the bar of God
+    To hear my sentence, I shall answer still:
+    "I loved him; that was all that I could do;
+    I love him; that is all that I can say!"
+
+
+
+
+THE MONASTERY.
+
+
+    Beyond the wall the passion flower is blooming,
+      Strange hints of life along the winds are blown;
+    Within, the cowled and silent men are kneeling
+      Before an image on a cross of stone,
+    And on their lifted faces, wan as death,
+    I read this simple message of their faith:
+          "The trail of flame is ashen,
+            And pleasure's lees are gray,
+          And gray the fruit of passion
+            Whose ripeness is decay;
+          The stress of life is rancor,
+            A madness born to slay;
+          They only miss its canker
+            Who live with God and pray."
+
+    Beyond the wall lies Babylon, the mighty;
+      Faint echoes of her songs come drifting by;
+    Within there is a hymn of consecration,
+      A psalm that lifts the fervent soul on high;
+    And yet, sometimes, where bows the hooded choir,
+    There comes the old call of the World's Desire:
+          "The rose's dust is ashen
+            Be petals white or red,
+          And vain the sighs of passion
+            When summer's light is fled;
+          The garden's fruitful measure
+            Is crowned with bloom today;
+          They only miss its treasure
+            Who turn their hearts away."
+
+
+
+
+THE PASSION PLAY.
+
+
+I.
+
+    Where falls the shadow of the Kofel cross
+    Athwart the Alpine snows, the rose of faith
+    Is blooming still in consecrated hearts,
+    And holy men another cross have hewn
+    Whereon the symboled Christ again shall die
+    To cleanse the world of sin. Within the vale
+    Where flows the Ammer like a trail of tears
+    Upon the Holy Mother's face, I see
+    The men and women, faithful to their vows,
+    Breathing the passion of Gethsemane.
+    I see the Saviour in Jerusalem;
+    I see the godless traders scourged; I see
+    Their wares strewn on the temple floor, their doves
+    Set free to wander on the roving winds;
+    I see Iscariot kiss the Nazarene;
+    I see the hate of Herod, and I hear
+    The multitude half-sob, half-wail, "The Cross!"
+    Then up the Way of Tears to Golgotha,
+    Crowned with the thorn, and then, last bitter scene,
+    The mortal death of God's immortal Son.
+
+
+II.
+
+    The eagle wheels around the Kofel crags;
+    The chamois leaps the tumbling glacier stream;
+    The sunbeams dance upon the glistening snows
+    Like pixies, and the wooded mountain slopes
+    Thrill with the notes of songbirds; hymns of joy
+    Break from the forests and the smiling plains,
+    And where the Ammer winds its silvery way,
+    The wild swan ever follows like a prayer.
+    Who of God's creatures, then, has lost his way?
+    'Tis not the chamois, eagle or the swan;
+    'Tis not the mountain torrent, or the birds
+    That twitter all day long within the wood;
+    'Tis not the Ammer flowing to the sea.
+    Who of God's creatures, then, has lost his way?
+    Let us go in the Coliseum where
+    The fresh-hewn cross is lifted to the sky;
+    Let us gaze on the reverential throng
+    That marks Christ's passion in a silent awe,
+    And think a moment on the world of Man--
+    Man, made in God's own image, yet the one
+    Of all God's creatures who has lost his way.
+
+
+III.
+
+    When, on the brooding darkness of the void
+    Wherein the world swung like a tiny star,
+    Death hovered with his sable wings outspread,
+    And Hell yawned far below, God gave to man
+    His promise of redemption through the blood
+    That dripped from pierced hands high on Calvary--
+    The mortal death of God's immortal Son.
+    The centuries have crumbled into dust;
+    Cities have risen on the shores of Time,
+    Then passed away like footprints in the sand;
+    Empires have vanished, kings have laid them down
+    In silence, but the word of Him remains
+    Who cried in agony upon the tree:
+    "Forgive them, for they know not what they do."
+    Once more the fresh-hewn cross lifts to the sky
+    In consecrated Oberammergau;
+    Once more I see the Christ in humble guise
+    Teaching the multitudes, and hear his voice
+    In supplication and in parable
+    Proclaim his mission to a sinful world.
+    Ah, could the world but gaze upon that Christ
+    With heart attuned unto the symboled love
+    That makes his face a radiant miracle!
+    The world hath need of thy great lesson now;
+    The money-changers throng the Temple gates;
+    The kiss of Judas burns from lips to brow;
+    The hate of Herod rankles in the hearts
+    Of scorners, and the poisoned crown of thorns
+    Which Greed has woven for humanity,
+    Bites like the chaplet that the Saviour wore
+    The day that He was crowned and crucified.
+    Methinks I see around the shining cross
+    Phantoms that shudder when the name of Christ
+    Is whispered by the multitude; I see
+    Grim Avarice with shriveled fingers clutch
+    A golden bauble; shrinking by his side,
+    Oppression stands and hugs a clanking chain,
+    While deeper in the gloom, with eyes aglow
+    And matted hair still dripping red with gore,
+    Sits War, her trembling hand enclasped within
+    The spectral hand of Death. O Christus, thou
+    To whom it has been given once again
+    To symbolize the passion of the cross,
+    Approach thy task with heart inspired by love,
+    And when the Saviour's words fall from thy lips,
+    Be thine the Saviour's exaltation when
+    He told the dying thief upon the cross
+    That he should be with Him in Paradise.
+
+
+
+
+INSTRUMENTS.
+
+
+    Today we are the fruits of yesterday
+      And what tomorrow shall of us demand,--
+      The helpless tools within the Master's hand
+    To do His will and never say Him nay.
+    He blends our souls with iron, fire or clay,
+      He shapes our doom according as He planned
+      The scheme of life, and who shall understand
+    The why He gives, or why He takes away?
+    Somewhere the universal loom shall catch
+      These broken, flying threads like thee and me,
+    And twined with other broken threads to match
+      As fly the years' swift shuttles ceaselessly,
+    So weave them all together one by one,
+    Till lo! the finished woof is brighter than the sun.
+
+
+
+
+QUATRAINS.
+
+
+_The Sky Line._
+
+    Like black fangs in a cruel ogre's jaw
+      The grim piles lift against the sunset sky;
+    Down drops the night, and shuts the horrid maw--
+      I listen, breathless, but there comes no cry.
+
+
+_Defeat._
+
+    He sits and looks into the west
+      Where twilight gathers, wan and gray,
+    A knight who quit the Golden Quest,
+      And flung Excalibur away.
+
+
+_To an Amazon._
+
+    O! twain in spirit, we shall know
+      Thy like no more, so fierce, so mild,
+    One breast shorn clean to rest the bow,
+      One milk-full for thy warrior child.
+
+
+_The Old Mother._
+
+    Life is like an old mother whom trouble and toil
+    Have sufficed the best part of her nature to spoil,
+    Whom her children, the Passions, so worry and vex
+    That the good are forgot while the evil perplex.
+
+
+_The Call._
+
+    When the north wind, riding o'er the uplands,
+      Shouted to the red leaves: "I am Death!"
+    Was it fear that sent them all a-flying,
+      Sighing, flying o'er the withered heath?
+
+
+_Life._
+
+    Life is just a web of doubt
+      Where, with iridescent gleams,
+    Flickers in or struggles out
+      Love, the golden moth of dreams.
+
+
+_Revelation._
+
+    I called your name, Man-in-the-Grave,
+      And straight her lips grew cold on mine,
+    And then I knew although I have
+      Her hand, her heart and soul are thine.
+
+
+_Tears of Men._
+
+    Men shed their blood for honor or renown,
+    For freedom's sake to nameless graves go down,
+    But there's one cause alone 'neath heaven above
+    For which they shed their tears, and that is--Love.
+
+
+
+
+IMMUTABILITY.
+
+
+    The sun must rise, the sun must set,
+      Nor ever change in plan may be,
+    Though dawn to stricken wretch may bring
+      The hempen rope and gallows tree,
+    And eventide to happy bride
+      Love's crown of love in Arcady.
+
+
+
+
+THE FETTERED VULTURES.
+
+(Battleships of the Coronation Naval Review, Spithead, England, June 24,
+1911.)
+
+
+    Hail, sceptered Mars, great god of wars!
+      Hail, Carnage, queen of blood!
+    And hail those muffled armaments--
+      Thy fettered vulture brood!
+    Their sable wings are laureled and
+      Their necks are ribboned gay,
+    And silken folds their talons hide
+      This kingly holiday.
+
+    Grotesque and grim, in chains of gold,
+      They go with solemn mien,
+    Their horrid plumes bedizened for
+      The eyes of king and queen;
+    But padded claw and mummer's crest
+      Have served not to disguise
+    Those iron beaks that thirst for blood,
+      Those wakeful, wolfish eyes.
+
+    Ten condors with unsated maws,
+      Four lesser birds of prey,
+    An eagle with undaunted eye
+      From Shasta, far away;
+    A score of birds from many seas,
+      All purged of grime and blood,
+    Keep truckling pace the fete to grace,--
+      Mars' fettered vulture brood.
+
+    But see ye not, great god of wars,
+      And ye, Britannia's king,
+    The day when these black birds shall fly
+      On fierce unshackled wing?
+    When they shall meet 'twixt sea and sky,
+      Rend flesh and break the bone,
+    And blood shall trickle through the waves
+      To gray old Triton's throne?
+
+    Hail, sceptered Mars, great god of wars!
+      Hail, Carnage, queen of blood!
+    And hail those muffled armaments,--
+      Thy fettered vulture brood!
+    And yet Christ's gentle teaching scrolls
+      Prophetic on the sky:
+    "Behold! some day thy vulture brood
+      Shall go unfed and die!"
+
+
+
+
+THE DEAD CHILD.
+
+
+    Life to her was a perfect flower,
+    And every petal a jeweled hour,
+    Till all at once--we know not why--
+    God sent a frost from His clear blue sky.
+
+    Life to her was a fairy rune;
+    Her light feet tripped to the lilting tune,
+    Till all at once--we know not why--
+    God stopped th' enchanting melody.
+
+    Life to her was a picture book
+    That her glad eyes searched with eager look
+    Till all at once--we know not why--
+    God put the wondrous volume by.
+
+
+
+
+NIGHT IN MAY.
+
+
+    The snowy clouds, soft sleeping lambkins, lie
+    Along the dark blue meadows of the sky,
+      And the bright stars, like golden daffodils,
+    Are blooming thickly by.
+
+    And Luna, gentle shepherdess, the while
+    Keeps near her flock and guards it with her smile;
+      I almost fancy I can hear her song
+    Down to this shadowed stile.
+
+    Lo! Zephyrus, fond lover, comes to woo;
+    With airy step he hastes the pastures through,
+      And steals a kiss from Luna as she nods
+    Drowsy with fragrant dew.
+
+    She starts; the little lambs aroused from sleep,
+    Fly hence; but Luna near her swain doth keep.
+      Oh, it was ever thus since lover came
+    'Twixt shepherdess and sheep!
+
+
+
+
+DE PROFUNDIS.
+
+
+    I thought today within the crowded mart
+      I saw thee for a moment, friend of mine,
+      And all at once my blood leapt fast and fine
+    And a new light broke on my shadowed heart.
+    'T was but a moment that my fancy's art
+      Moulded another's features into thine,
+      For when he passed me by and gave no sign,
+    The bitter truth came back with sudden start.
+    Then I remembered how the Merlin spell
+      Of waving arms and woven paces bands
+    Thy dust forever in its four-walled cell,
+      Heedless of all except thy Seer's commands--
+    Holds thee enraptured with the charms that dwell
+      In broken paces and in folded hands.
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note:
+
+    Variant spellings and proper nouns remain as printed. Minor
+    typographical errors have been corrected without note, whilst
+    significant amendments have been listed below:
+
+      p. 8, 'pleasuance' amended to _pleasaunce_;
+        'Some decked for the pleasaunce bower'
+
+      p. 25, 'Homme' amended to _Homme_;
+        'The old "Bon Homme Richard's" unlaid ghost'
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Pan and Aeolus: Poems, by Charles Hamilton Musgrove
+
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