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diff --git a/old/engm10.txt b/old/engm10.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 8b43fa1..0000000 --- a/old/engm10.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,2596 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Englishman and Other Poems -by Ella Wheeler Wilcox -(#8 in our series by Ella Wheeler Wilcox) - -Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the -copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing -this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. - -This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project -Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the -header without written permission. - -Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the -eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is -important information about your specific rights and restrictions in -how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a -donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. - - -**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** - -**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** - -*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** - - -Title: The Englishman and Other Poems - -Author: Ella Wheeler Wilcox - -Release Date: July, 2004 [EBook #6025] -[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] -[This file was first posted on October 20, 2002] - -Edition: 10 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, THE ENGLISHMAN AND OTHER POEMS *** - - - - -Transcribed from the 1912 Gay and Hancock edition by David Price, -email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk - - - - -THE ENGLISHMAN AND OTHER POEMS - - - - -Contents: - -Preface--the Queen's last ride -The Englishman -Canada -The Call -Coronation Poem and Prayer -Two Voices -A Ballade of the Unborn Dead -The Truth Teller -Just You -Reflection -Songs of Love and the Sea -Acquaintance -In India's Dreamy Land -Rangoon -Thoughts on leaving Japan -On seeing the Diabutsu--at Kamakura, Japan -The Little Lady of the Bullock Cart -East and West -The Squanderer -Compensations -Song of the Rail -Always at Sea -The Suitors -The Jealous Gods -God Rules Alway -The Cure -The Forecast -Little Girls -Science -The Earth -The Muse and the Poet -The Spinster -Brotherhood -The Tavern of Last Times -The Two Ages -If I Were -Warned -Forward -In England -Karma -The Gossips -Together -Petition -A Waft of Perfume -The Plough -Go Plant a Tree -Pain's Purpose -Memory's Mansion -Old Rhythm and Rhyme -All in a Coach and Four -Songs of a Country Home -Worthy the name of "Sir Knight" - - - -PREFACE--THE QUEEN'S LAST RIDE - - - -(Written on the day of Queen Victoria's funeral) - -The Queen is taking a drive to-day, -They have hung with purple the carriage-way, -They have dressed with purple the royal track -Where the Queen goes forth and never comes back. - -Let no man labour as she goes by -On her last appearance to mortal eye; -With heads uncovered let all men wait -For the Queen to pass in her regal state. -Army and Navy shall lead the way -For that wonderful coach of the Queen's to-day. - -Kings and Princes and Lords of the land -Shall ride behind her, a humble band; -And over the city and over the world -Shall the Flags of all Nations be half-mast-furled, -For the silent lady of royal birth -Who is riding away from the Courts of earth, -Riding away from the world's unrest -To a mystical goal, on a secret quest. - -Though in royal splendour she drives through town, -Her robes are simple, she wears no crown: -And yet she wears one, for widowed no more, -She is crowned with the love that has gone before, -And crowned with the love she has left behind -In the hidden depths of each mourner's mind. - -Bow low your heads--lift your hearts on high - -The Queen in silence is driving by! - - - -THE ENGLISHMAN - - - -Born in the flesh, and bred in the bone, - Some of us harbour still -A New World pride: and we flaunt or hide - The Spirit of Bunker Hill. -We claim our place, as a separate race, - Or a self-created clan; -Till there comes a day when we like to say, - 'We are kin of the Englishman.' - -For under the front that seems so cold, - And the voice that is wont to storm, -We are certain to find, a big, broad mind - And a heart that is soft and warm. -And he carries his woes in a lordly way, - As only the great souls can: -And it makes us glad when in truth we say, - We are kin of the Englishman.' - -He slams his door in the face of the world, - If he thinks the world too bold. -He will even curse; but he opens his purse - To the poor, and the sick, and the old. -He is slow in giving to woman the vote, - And slow to put up her fan; -But he gives her room in the hour of doom, - And dies--like an Englishman. - - - -CANADA - - - England, father and mother in one, - Look on your stalwart son. -Sturdy and strong, with the valour of youth, -Where is another so lusty? -Coated and mailed, with the armour of truth, -Where is another so trusty? -Flesh of your flesh, and bone of your bone, -He is yours alone. - - England, father and mother in one, - See the wealth of your son. -Forests primeval, and virginal sod, -Wheat-fields golden and splendid: -Riches of nature and opulent God -For the use of his children intended. -A courage that dares, and a hope that endures, -And a soul all yours. - - England, father and mother in one, - Hear the cry of your son. -Little cares he for the glories of earth -Lying around and above him, -Yearning is he for the rights of his birth, -And the heart of his mother to love him. -Vast are your gifts to him, ample his store, -Now open your door. - - England, father and mother in one, - Heed the voice of your son. -Proffer him place in your councils of state: -Let him sit near, and attend you. -Ponder his words in the hour of debate, -Strong is his arm to defend you. -Flesh of your flesh, and bone of your bone, -Give him his own. - - - -THE CALL - - - -In the banquet hall of Progress -God has bidden to a feast -All the women in the East. - -Some have said 'We are not ready, - - We must wait another day.' -Some, with voices clear and steady, - 'Lord, we hear, and we obey.' - -Others, timid and uncertain, - Step forth trembling in the light, -Many hide behind the curtain - With their faces hid from sight. - -In the banquet hall of Progress -All must gather soon or late, -And the patient Host will wait. - -If to-day, or if to-morrow, - If in gladness, or in woe, -If with pleasure, or with sorrow, - All must answer, all must go. -They must go with unveiled faces, - Clothed in virtue and in pride. -For the Host has set their places, - And He will not he denied. - - - -CORONATION POEM AND PRAYER - - - -The world has crowned a thousand kings: - But destiny has kept -Her weightiest hour of kingly power - To offer England's son. -The rising bell of Progress rings; - And Truths which long have slept, -Like prophets strange, predicting change, - Before Time's chariot run. - -The greatest Empire of the Earth. - Old England proudly stands. -Like arteries her Colonies - Reach out from sea to sea. -She clasps all races in her girth; - Her gaze the world commands; -And far and wide where strong ships ride, - The British Flag floats free. - -Oh, never since the stars began - Their round of Cosmic law, -And souls evolved in ways unsolved, - And kingdoms reached their prime -Has Destiny held out to Man - A gift so full of awe, -As England's crown which she hands down - In this stupendous time. - -This is a crucial hour, when Fate - Tries Monarchs as by fire. -All rulers must be more than just - - Men starve on bread alone. -Old England's sense of RIGHT is great: - But now let her aspire -To feel more love, and build thereof - An everlasting Throne. - -The dreaming East, awake at last, - Is asking 'when' and 'why'; -Wait not too long nor answer wrong, - Nor in too stern a voice. -Let England profit by her past, - And with her wise reply -Rouse hearts, within her foster kin - To hope, and to rejoice. - -True wealth dwells not in things we own, - But in our USE of things. -Who would command a conquered land - Must conquer first its heart. -Such might as Man has never known, - And power undreamed by kings, -And boundless strength would come at length - To one who used that art. - -For now has dawned the People's day: - A day of great unrest. -Nor king nor creed can still man's need - Of time and space to grow. -All lands must shape a wider way, - For this eternal quest; -And Leisure yield a larger field - Where work-worn feet may go. - -The Universe is all a-thrill - With changes imminent. -The World in faith, with bated breath, - Holds free the Leader's place. -And wise is he whose heart and will - At one with Time's intent, -Shall open wide doors long denied - To MOTHERS of the race. - -On this round globe, oh, when and where - Were fitter time and scene -For Woman's soul to reach its goal - Than NOW in England's realm. -Was not the crown its King will wear - Made glorious by its Queen? -And who steered straight its ship of State? - VICTORIA AT THE HELM! - -Kings have been kings by accident, - By favour and by force, -But right of birth and moral worth, - And Empires rich and broad -For England's King to-day are blent - Like rivers on one course. -But, ah! the light falls searching white - Down from the Throne of God. - -Lord of the Earth and heavenly-spheres, - Creator of all things, -Thou who hast wrought great worlds from naught, - Give strength to England's son. -Give courage to dispel those fears - That come to even kings, -And for his creed give Love's full mead; - Amen. Thy Will be done. - - - -TWO VOICES - - - -VIRTUE - -O wanton one, O wicked one, how was it that you came, -Down from the paths of purity, to walk the streets of shame? -And wherefore was that precious wealth, God gave to you in trust, -Flung broadcast for the feet of men to trample in the dust? - -VICE - -O prudent one, O spotless one, now listen well to me. -The ways that led to where I tread these paths of sin, were three: -And God, and good folks, all combined to make them fair to see. - -VIRTUE - -O wicked one, blasphemous one, now how could that thing be? - -VICE - -The first was Nature's lovely road, whereon my life was hurled. -I felt the stirring in my blood, which permeates the world. -I thrilled like willows in the spring, when sap begins to flow, -It was young passion in my veins, but how was I to know? - -The second was the silent road, where modest mothers dwell, -And hide from eager, curious minds, the truth they ought to tell. -That misnamed road called 'Innocence' should bear the sign 'to Hell.' -With song and dance in ignorance I walked that road and fell. - -VIRTUE - -O fallen one, unhappy one, but why not rise and go -Back to the ways you left behind, and leave your sins below, -Nor linger in this sink of sin, since now you see, and know. - -VICE - -The third road was the fair high way, trod by the good and great. -I cried aloud to that vast crowd, and told my hapless fate. -They hurried all through door and wall and shut Convention's gate. -I beat it with my bleeding hands: they must have heard me knock. -They must have heard wild sob and word, yet no one turned the lock. - -Oh, it is very desolate, on Virtue's path to stand, -And see the good folks flocking by, withholding look and hand. - -And so with hungry heart and soul, and weary brain and feet, -I left that highway whence you came, and sought the sinful street. - -O prudent one, O spotless one, when good folks speak of me, -Go, tell them of the roads I came; the road ways fair, and three. - - - -A BALLADE OF THE UNBORN DEAD - - - -They walked the valley of the dead; - Lit by a weird half light; -No sound they made, no word they said; - And they were pale with fright. -Then suddenly from unseen places came -Loud laughter, that was like a whip of flame. - -They looked, and saw, beyond, above, - A land where wronged souls wait; -(Those spirits called to earth by love, - And driven back by hate). -And each one stood in anguish dumb and wild, -As she beheld the phantom of her child. - -Yea, saw the soul her wish had hurled - Out into night and death; -Before it reached the Mother world, - Or drew its natal breath. -And terrified, each hid her face and fled -Beyond the presence of her unborn dead. - -And God's Great Angel, who provides - Souls for our mortal land, -Laughed, with the laughter that derides, - At that fast fleeing band -Of self-made barren women of the earth. -(Hell has no curse that withers like such mirth.) - -'O Angel, tell us who were they, - That down below us fared; -Those shapes with faces strained and grey, - And eyes that stared and stared; -Something there was about them, gave us fear; -Yet are we lonely, now they are not here.' - -Thus spake the spectral children; thus - The Angel made reply: -'They have no part or share with us; - They were but passers-by.' -'But may we pray for them?' the phantoms plead. -'Yea, for they need your prayers,' the Angel said. - -They went upon their lonely way; - (Far, far from Paradise); -Their path was lit with one wan ray - From ghostly children's eyes; -The little children who were never born; -And as they passed, the Angel laughed in scorn. - - - -THE TRUTH TELLER - - - -The Truth Teller lifts the curtain, - And shows us the people's plight; -And everything seems uncertain, - And nothing at all looks right. -Yet out of the blackness groping, - My heart finds a world in bloom; -For it somehow is fashioned for hoping, - And it cannot live in the gloom. - -He tells us from border to border, - That race is warring with race; -With riot and mad disorder, - The earth is a wretched place; -And yet ere the sun is setting - I am thinking of peace, not strife; -For my heart has a way of forgetting - All things save the joy of life. - -I heard in my Youth's beginning - That earth was a region of woe, -And trouble, and sorrow, and sinning: - The Truth Teller told me so. -I knew it was true, and tragic; - And I mourned over much that was wrong; -And then, by some curious magic, - The heart of me burst into song. - -The years have been going, going, - A mixture of pleasure and pain; -But the Truth Teller's books are showing - That evil is on the gain. -And I know that I ought to be grieving, - And I should be too sad to sing; -But somehow I keep on believing - That life is a glorious thing. - - - -JUST YOU - - - -All the selfish joys of earth, - I am getting through. -That which used to lure and lead - Now I pass and give no heed; -Only one thing seems of worth - - Just you. - -Not for me the lonely height, - And the larger view; -Lowlier ways seem fair and wide, - While we wander side by side. -One thing makes the whole world bright - - Just you. - -Not for distant goals I run, - No great aim pursue; -Most of earth's ambitions seem - Like the shadow of a dream. -All the world to me means one - - Just you. - - - -REFLECTION - - - -Twice have I seen God's full reflected grace. - Once when the wailing of a child at birth - Proclaimed another soul had come to earth, -That look shone on, and through the mother's face. - -And once when silence, absolute and vast, - Followed the final indrawn mortal breath, - Sudden upon the countenance of death -That supreme glory of God's grace was cast. - - - -SONGS OF LOVE AND THE SEA - - - -I - -When first we met (the Sea and I), - Like one before a King, -I stood in awe; nor felt nor saw -The sun, the winds, the earth, the sky - Or any other thing. - God's Universe, to me, - Was just the Sea. - -When next we met, the lordly Main - Played but a courtier's part; -Crowned Queen was I; and earth and sky, -And sun and sea were my domain, - Since love was in my heart. - Before, beyond, above, - Was only Love. - -II - -Love built me, on a little rock, - A little house of pine, - At first, the Sea - Beat angrily -About that house of mine; -(That dear, dear home of mine). - -But when it turned to go away - Beyond the sandy track, - Down o'er its wall - The house would call, -Until the Sea came back; -(It always hurried back). - -And now the two have grown so fond, - (Oh, breathe no word of this), - When clouds hang low, - And east winds blow, -They meet and kiss and kiss: -(At night, I hear them kiss). - -III - -No man can understand the Sea, until -He knows all passions of the senses; all -The great emotions of the heart; and each - Exalted aspiration of the soul. -Then may he sit beside the sea and say: -'I, too, have flung myself against the rocks, -And kissed their flinty brows with no return; - And fallen spent upon unfeeling sands. -I, too, have gone forth yearning, to far shores, -Seeking that something which would bring content; - And finding only what I took away; -And I have looked up, through the veil of skies, -When all the world was still, and understood -That I am one with Nature and with God.' - -IV - -The Dawn was flying from the Night; - Swift as the wind she sped; -Her hair was like a fleece of light; - Her cheeks were warm and red. - -All passion pale, the Night pursued; - She fled away, away; -And in her garments, rainbow hued, - She gained the peak of day. - -And then, all shaken with alarms, - She leaped down from its crest; -Into the Sea's uplifted arms, - And swooned upon his breast. - - - -ACQUAINTANCE - - - -Not we who daily walk the City's street; -Not those who have been cradled in its heart, -Best understand its architectural art, -Or realise its grandeur. Oft we meet -Some stranger who has stayed his passing feet -And lingered with us for a single hour, -And learned more of cathedral, and of tower, -Than we, who deem our knowledge quite complete. - -Not always those we hold most loved and dear, -Not always those who dwell with us, know best -Our greater selves. Because they stand so near -They cannot see the lofty mountain crest, -The gleaming sun-kissed height, which fair and dear -Stands forth--revealed unto the some-time guest. - - - -IN INDIA'S DREAMY LAND - - - -In India's land one listens aghast -To the people who scream and bawl; -For each caste yells at a lower caste, -And the Britisher yells at them all. - - - -RANGOON - - - -Just a changing sea of colour -Surging up and flowing down; -And pagodas shining golden, night and noon; -And a sun-burst-tinted throng -Of young priests that move along -Under sun-burst-hued umbrellas through the town. - That's Rangoon. - - - -THOUGHTS ON LEAVING JAPAN - - - -A changing medley of insistent sounds, -Like broken airs, played on a Samisen, -Pursues me, as the waves blot out the shore. -The trot of wooden heels; the warning cry -Of patient runners; laughter and strange words -Of children, children, children everywhere: -The clap of reverent hands, before some shrine; -And over all the haunting temple bells, -Waking, in silent chambers of the soul, -Dim memories of long-forgotten lives. - -But oh! the sorrow of the undertone; -The wail of hopeless weeping in the dawn -From lips that smiled through gilded bars at night. - -Brave little people, of large aims, you bow -Too often, and too low before the Past; -You sit too long in worship of the dead. -Yet have you risen, open eyed, to greet -The great material Present. Now salute -The greater Future, blazing its bold trail -Through old traditions. Leave your dead to sleep -In quiet peace with God. Let your concern -Be with the living, and the yet unborn; -Bestow on them your thoughts, and waste no time -In costly honours to insensate dust. -Unlock the doors of usefulness, and lead -Your lovely daughters forth to larger fields, -Away from jungles of the ancient sin. - -For oh! the sorrow of that undertone, -The wail of hopeless weeping in the dawn -From lips that smiled through gilded bars at night. - - - -ON SEEING THE DIABUTSU--AT KAMAKURA, JAPAN - - - -Long have I searched, cathedral shrine, and hall, -To find a symbol, from the hand of art, -That gave the full expression (not a part) -Of that ecstatic peace which follows all -Life's pain and passion. Strange it should befall -This outer emblem of the inner heart -Was waiting far beyond the great world's mart - -Immortal answer, to the mortal call. - -Unknown the artist, vaguely known his creed: -But the bronze wonder of his work sufficed -To lift me to the heights his faith had trod. -For one rich moment, opulent indeed, -I walked with Krishna, Buddha, and the Christ, -And felt the full serenity of God. - - - -THE LITTLE LADY OF THE BULLOCK CART - - - -Now is the time when India is gay -With wedding parties; and the radiant throngs -Seem like a scattered rainbow taking part -In human pleasures. Dressed in bright array, -They fling upon the bride their wreaths of songs - -The Little Lady of the Bullock Cart. - -Here is the temple ready for the rite: -The large-eyed bullocks halt; and waiting arms -Lift down the bride. All India's curious art -Speaks in the gems with which she is bedight. -And in the robes which hide her sweet alarms - -The Little Lady of the Bullock Cart. - -This is her day of days: her splendid hour -When joy is hers, though love is all unknown. -It has not dawned upon her childish heart. -But human triumph, in a temporal power, -Has crowned her queen upon a one-day throne - -The Little Lady of the Bullock Cart. - -Ah, Little Lady! What will be your fate? -So long, so long, the outward-reaching years: -So brief the joy of this elusive part; -So frail the shoulders for the loads that wait: -So bitter salt the virgin widow's tears - -O Little Lady of the Bullock cart. - - - -EAST AND WEST - - - -The Day has never understood the Gloaming or the Night; -Though sired by one Creative Power, and nursed at Nature's breast; -The White Man ever fails to read the Dark Man's heart aright; -Though from the self-same Source they came, upon the self-same quest; -So deep and wide, the Great Divide, -Between the East and West. - -But like a shadow on a screen, mine eyes behold, above -The yawning gulf, a dim forecast, of structures strong and broad; -Where caste, and colour prejudice, by countless feet down trod, -With old traditions crushed by Time, pave smooth the bridge of Love; -And all the creed that men shall heed -Is consciousness of God. - - - -THE SQUANDERER - - - -God gave him passions, splendid as the sun, -Meant for the lordliest purposes; a part -Of nature's full and fertile mother heart, -From which new systems and new stars are spun. -And now, behold, behold, what he has done! - In Folly's court and carnal Pleasures' mart - He flung the wealth life gave him at the start. -(This, of all mortal sins, the deadliest one.) - -At dawn he stood, potential, opulent, - With virile manhood, and emotions keen, - And wonderful with God's creative fire. -At noon he stands, with Love's large fortune spent - In petty traffic, unproductive, mean - - A pauper, cursed with impotent desire. - - - -COMPENSATIONS - - - -I - -BLIND - -When first the shadows fell, like prison bars, -And darkness spread before me, like a pall, -I cried out for the sun, the earth, the stars, -And beat the air, as madmen beat a wall, -Till, impotent, and broken with despair, -I turned my vision inward. Lo, a spark - -A light--a torch; and all my world grew bright; -For God's dear eyes were shining through the dark. -Then, bringing to me gifts of recompense, -Came keener hearing, finer taste, and touch; -And that oft unappreciated sense, -Which finds sweet odours, and proclaims them such; -And not until my mortal eyes were blind -Did I perceive how kind the world, how kind. - -II - -DEAF - -I can recall a time, when on mine ears -There fell chaotic sounds of earthly life, -Shrill cries of triumph, and hoarse shouts of strife; -A medley of despairs, and hopes and fears. -Then silence came, and unavailing tears. -The stillness stabbed me, like a two edged-knife; -Until I found the Universe was rife -With subtle music of the neighbouring spheres. -Such harmonies, such congruous sweet chords, -Wherein each note conveys a healing balm. -And now no more I miss men's spoken words; -For, in a quiet world of larger thought, -I know the joy that comes from being calm. - -III - -SHUT-IN - -Across my window glass -The moving shadows of the people pass. -Sometimes the shadow's pause; and through the hall -Kind neighbours come to call, -Bringing a word or smile -To cheer my loneliness a little while. -But as I hear them talk, -These people who can walk -And go about the great green earth at will, -I wonder if they know the joy of being still, -And all alone with thoughts that soar afar - -High as the highest star. -And oft I feel more free -Than those who travel over land and sea. -For one who is shut in, -Away from all the outer strife and din, -With faithful Pain for guide, -Finds where Great Truths abide. - -Across my window glass -The moving shadows pass. -But swifter moves my unimpeded thought, -Speeding from spot to spot - -Out and afar - -High as the highest star. - - - -SONG OF THE RAIL - - - -Oh, an ugly thing is an iron rail, -Black, with its face to the dust. -But it carries a message where winged things fail; -It crosses the mountains, and catches the trail, -While the winds and the sea make sport of a sail; -Oh, a rail is a friend to trust. - -The iron rail, with its face to the sod, -Is only a bar of ore; -Yet it speeds where never a foot has trod; -And the narrow path where it leads, grows broad; -And it speaks to the world in the voice of God, -That echoes from shore to shore. - -Though the iron rail, on the earth down flung, -Seems kin to the loam and the soil, -Wherever its high shrill note is sung, -Out of the jungle fair homes have sprung, -And the voices of babel find one tongue, -In the common language of toil. - -Of priest, and warrior, and conquering king, -Of Knights of the Holy Grail, -Of wonders of winter, and glories of spring, -Always and ever the poets sing; -But the great God-Force, in a lowly thing, -I sing, in my song of the rail. - - - -ALWAYS AT SEA - - - -Always at sea I think about the dead. -On barques invisible they seem to sail -The self-same course; and from the decks cry 'Hail'! -Then I recall old words that they have said, -And see their faces etched upon the mist - - Dear faces I have kissed. - -Always the dead seem very close at sea. -The coarse vibrations of the earth debar -Our spirit friends from coming where we are. -But through God's ether, unimpeded, free, -They wing their way, the ocean deeps above - - And find the hearts that love. - -Always at sea my dead come very near. -A growing host; some old in spirit lore, -And some who crossed to find the other shore -But yesterday. All, all, I see and hear -With inner senses, while the voice of faith - Proclaims--there is no death. - - - -THE SUITORS - - - -There is a little Bungalow -Perched on a granite ledge, -And at its feet two suitors meet; -(I watch them, and I know) -One waits outside the casement edge; -One paces to and fro. - -The Patient Rock speaks not a word; -The Sea goes up and down, -And sings full oft, in cadence soft; -(I listen, and have heard) -Again he wears an angry frown -By jealous passion stirred. - -This dawn, the Rock was all aglow; -Far out the mad Sea went; -Beyond the raft, like one gone daft; -(I saw them, and I know) -While radiant and well content -Smiled down the Bungalow. - -That was at Dawn; ere day had set, -The Sea with pleading voice -Came back to woo his love anew; -(I saw them when they met) -And now I know not which her choice - -(The Rock's gray face was wet.) - - - -THE JEALOUS GODS - - - -'Oh life is wonderful,' she said, -'And all my world is bright; -Can Paradise show fairer skies, -Or more effulgent light?' -(Speak lower, lower, mortal heart, -The jealous gods may hear.) - -She turned for answer; but his gaze -Cut past her like a lance, -And shone like flame on one who came -With radiant glance for glance. -(You spoke too loud, O mortal heart, -The jealous gods were near.) - -They walked through green and sunlit ways; -And yet the earth seemed black, -For there were three, where two should be; -So runs the world, alack. -(The listening gods, the jealous gods, -They want no Edens here.) - - - -GOD RULES ALWAY - - - -Into the world's most high and holy places - Men carry selfishness, and graft and greed. -The air is rent with warring of the races; - Loud Dogmas drown a brother's cry of need. -The Fleet-of-Creeds, upon Time's ocean lurches; - And there is mutiny upon her decks; -And in the light of temples, and of churches, - Against life's shores drift wrecks and derelicts. - (God rules, God rules alway.) - -Right in the shadow of the lofty steeple, - Which crowns some costly edifice of faith, -Behold the throngs of hungry, unhoused people; - The 'Bread Line,' flanked by charity and death. -See yonder Churchman, opulently doing - Unnumbered deeds, which gladden and resound; -The while his thrifty tenant is pursuing - The white slave trade on sacred, untaxed ground. - (God rules, God rules alway.) - -For these are but the outward signs of fever; - Those flaunting signs, which through delirium burn; -And the clear-seeing eye of each Believer - Can note the coming crisis. It will turn, -For it has reached its summit. Convalescing, - The sick world shall arise to strength and peace, -And earth shall bloom, with each and every blessing - Life waits to give, when wars and conflicts cease. - (God rules, God rules alway.) - -This is a mighty hour. No sounds of drumming, - No flying flags, no heralds do appear; -No Wise Men of the East proclaim His coming; - Yet He is coming--nay, our Christ is here! -And man shall leave his fever dreams behind him; - Those dreams of avarice, and lust, and sin, -And seek his Lord; yea, he shall seek and find Him, - In his own soul, where He has always been. - (God rules, God rules alway.) - -Man longs for God. Before the Christ we wot of, - With His brief mighty message, came to earth, -Before His life, or creed, or cross were thought of, - The love of love within man's breast had birth. -But blindly, through his carnal senses reaching, - He plucked dead fruit, and nothing has sufficed; -Nor can his soul find rest in any teaching, - Until he knows that he, himself, is Christ. - (God rules, God rules alway.) - -Oh, when he knows this truth in all its splendour, - What majesty, what glory crowns his life: -And, one with God, his every thought is tender; - He cannot enter into war, or strife. -His love goes out to every race and nation; - His whole religion lies in being kind. -THIS IS THE CREED THAT MEANS THE WORLD'S SALVATION; - THE BIRTH OF CHRIST IN EVERY MORTAL MIND. - (God rules, God rules alway.) - - - -THE CURE - - - -You may talk of reformations, of the Economic Plan, - That shall stem the Social Evil in its course; -But the Ancient Sin of nations, must be got at in THE MAN. - If you want to cleanse a river, seek the source. - -Ever since his first beginning, Man has had his way, in lust. - He has never learned the law of Self-Control; -And the World condones his sinning, and the Doctors say he must, - And the Churches shut their eyes, and take his toll. - -And the lauded 'Lovely Mothers' send the son out into life - With no knowledge-welded armour for the fight; -'He will make his way like others, through the Oat field, to the -Wife'; - 'He will somehow be led onward, to the light.' - -Yes, his leaders, they shall find him. On the highways at each turn, - (Since you did not choose to counsel or to warn,) -They shall tempt him, then shall bind him; they shall blight, and -they shall burn, - Down to offspring and descendants yet unborn. - -It can never end through preaching; it can never end through laws; - This social sore, no punishment can heal. -It must be the mother's teaching of the purpose, and the cause, - And God's glory, lying under sex appeal. - -She must feel no fear to name it to the children it has brought; - She must speak of it as sacred, and sublime; -She must beautify, not shame it, by her speech and by her thought; - Till they listen, and respect it, for all time. - -From the heart they rested under ere they saw the light of day, - Must the daughters and the sons be taught this truth; -Till they think of it with wonder, as a holy thing alway; - While love's wisdom guides them safely through their youth. - -Oh, the world has made its devil, and the Mothers let it grow; - And the Man has dragged their thoughts down to the earth. -There will be no Social Evil, when each waking mind shall know - All the grandeur and the beauty hid in birth. - -When each Mother sets the fashion to win confidence, and trust, - And to teach the mighty lesson, Self-Control, -We can lift the great Sex passion from the darkness and the dust, - And enshrine it on the altar of the soul. - - - -THE FORECAST - - - -It may be that I dreamed a dream; it may be that I saw -The forecast of a time to come by some supernal law. - -I seemed to dwell in this same world, and in this modern time; -Yet nowhere was there sight or sound of poverty or crime. -All strife had ceased; men were disarmed; and quiet Peace had made -A thousand avenues for toil, in place of War's grim trade. -From east to west, from north to south where highways smooth and -broad -Tied State to State, the waste lands bloomed, like garden spots of -God. -There were no beggars in the streets; there were no unemployed, -For each man owned his plot of ground, and laboured and enjoyed. -Sweet children grew like garden flowers; all strong and fair to see; -And when I marvelled at the sight, thus spake a Voice to me: -'All Motherhood is now an art; the greatest art on earth; -And nowhere is there known the crime of one unwelcome birth -From rights of parentage the sick and sinful are debarred; -For Matron Science keeps our house, and at the door stands guard. -We know the cure for darkness lies in letting in the light; -And Prisons are replaced by Schools, where wrong views change to -right. -The wisdom, knowledge, study, thought, once bent on beast and sod, -We give now to the human race, the highest work of God; -And, as the gardener chooses seed, so we select with care; -And as our Man Plant grows, we give him soil and sun and air. -There are no slums; no need of alms; all men are opulent, -For Mother Earth belongs to them, as was the First Intent.' - -It may be that I dreamed a dream; it may be that I saw -The forecast of a time to come by some supernal law. - - - -LITTLE GIRLS - - - -Whether you frolic with comrade boys, -Or sit at your studies, or play with toys, -Whatever your station, or place, or sphere, -For just one purpose God sent you here; -And always and ever, you are to me - -Dear little Mothers, of Men to be. - -So would I guard you from all mean things; -From the dwarfing of wealth, and from poverty's stings. -And from silly mothers of fuss and show, -And from dissolute fathers whose aims are low, -I would take you, and shield you, and set you free, -Dear little Mothers, of Men to be. - -And then were the wish of my heart fulfilled, -Around about you, the world should build -A wall of Wisdom, with Truth for its Tower, -Where mind and body would wax in power, -Till the tender twig was a splendid tree - -Dear little Mothers, of Men to be. - -It is only a dream; but the world grows wise, -And a mighty truth in the dream seed lies -That shall gladden the earth, in its time and place. -WE MUST BETTER THE MOTHERS TO BETTER THE RACE. -A dream? nay, a vision, which all must see, -Dear little Mothers, of Men to be. - - - -SCIENCE - - - -Alone I climb the steep ascending path -Which leads to knowledge. In the babbling throngs -That hurry after, shouting to the world -Small fragments of large truths, there is not one -Who comprehends my purpose, or who sees -The ultimate great goal. Why, even she, -My heaven intended Spouse, my other self, -Religion, turns her beauteous face on me -With hatred in the eyes, where love should dwell. -While those who call me Master blindly run, -Wounding the ear of Faith with blasphemies, -And making useless slaughter in my name. - -Mine is the difficult slow task to blaze -A road of Facts, through labyrinths of dreams -To tear down Maybe and establish IS: -And substitute I Know for I Believe. -I follow closely where the Seers have led: -But that intangible dim path of theirs, -Which may be trodden but by other Seers, -I seek to render solid for the feet -Of all mankind. With reverent hands I lift -The mask from Mystery: and show the face -Of Reason, smiling bravely on the world. -The visions of the prophets, one by one, -Grew visible beneath my tireless touch: -And the white secrets of elusive stars -I tell aloud, to listening multitudes. - -To fit the better world my toil ensures, -Time will impregnate with a better race -The Future's womb: and when the hour is ripe, -To ready eyes of men, the alien spheres -Shall seem as friendly neighbours: and my skill -Shall make their music audible to ears -Which will be tuned to those high harmonies. - -Mine is the work to fashion, step by step, -The shining Way that leads from man to God. -Though I demolish obstacles of creeds -And blast tradition, from the face of earth, -My hand shall open wide the door of Truth, -Whose other name is Faith: and at the end -Of this most holy labour, I shall turn -To see Religion, with enlightened eyes, -Seeking the welcome of my outstretched arms. -While all the world stands hushed and awed before -The proven splendour of the Fact Supreme. - - - -THE EARTH - - - -To build a house, with love for architect, -Ranks first and foremost in the joys of life. -And in a tiny cabin, shaped for two, -The space for happiness is just as great -As in a palace. What a world were this -If each soul born received a plot of ground; -A little plot, whereon a home might rise, -And beauteous green things grow! - We give the dead, -The idle vagrant dead, the Potter's Field; -Yet to the living not one inch of soil. -Nay, we take from them soil, and sun, and air, -To fashion slums and hell-holes for the race. -And to our poor we say, 'Go starve and die -As beggars die; so gain your heritage.' - -II - -That was a most uncanny dream; I thought the wraiths of those -Long buried in the Potter's Field, in shredded shrouds arose; - They said, 'Against the will of God - We have usurped the fertile sod, - Now will we make it yield.' - -Oh! but it was a gruesome sight, to see those phantoms toil; -Each to his own small garden bent; each spaded up the soil; - (I never knew Ghosts laboured so.) - Each scattered seed, and watched, till lo! - The Graves were opulent. - -Then all among the fragrant greens, the silent, spectral train -Walked, as if breathing in the breath of plant, and flower, and -grain. - (I never knew Ghosts loved such things; - Perchance it brought back early springs - Before they thought of death.) - -'The mothers' milk for living babes; the earth for living hosts; -The clean flame for the un-souled dead.' (Oh, strange the words of -Ghosts.) - 'If we had owned this little spot - In life, we need not lie and rot - Here in a pauper's bed.' - - - -THE MUSE AND THE POET - - - -The Muse said, Let us sing a little song - Wherein no hint of wrong, -No echo of the great world need, or pain, - Shall mar the strain. -Lock fast the swinging portal of thy heart; - Keep sympathy apart. -Sing of the sunset, of the dawn, the sea; - Of any thing or nothing, so there be -No purpose to thy art. - Yea, let us make, art for Art's sake. -And sing no more unto the hearts of men, - But for the critic's pen. -With songs that are but words, sweet sounding words, - Like joyous jargon of the birds. -Tune now thy lyre, O Poet, and sing on. - Sing of - -THE DAWN - -The Virgin Night, all languorous with dreams - Of her beloved Darkness, rose in fear, - Feeling the presence of another near. -Outside her curtained casement shone the gleams - Of burning orbs; and modestly she hid - Her brow and bosom with her dusky hair. - When lo! the bold intruder lurking there - Leaped through the fragile lattice, all unbid, -And half unveiled her. Then the swooning Night -Fell pale and dead, while yet her soul was white - Before that lawless Ravisher, the Light. - -The Muse said, Poet, nay; thou host not caught -My meaning. For there lurks a thought - Back of thy song. - In art, all thought is wrong. -Re-string thy lyre; and let the echoes bound -To nothing but sweet sound. - Strike now the chords - And sing of - -WORDS - -One day sweet Ladye Language gave to me -A little golden key. - I sat me down beside her jewel box - And turned its locks. -And oh, the wealth that lay there in my sight. -Great solitaires of words, so bright, so bright; - Words that no use can commonize; like God, -And Truth, and Love; and words of sapphire blue; -And amber words; with sunshine dripping through; -And words of that strange hue - A pearl reveals upon a wanton's hand. - -Again the Muse: - Thou dost not understand; -A thought within thy song is lingering yet. -Sing but of words; all else forget, forget. - Nor let thy words convey one thought to men. - Try once again. - -Down through the dusk and dew there fell a word; - Down through the dew and dusk. -And all the garments of the air it stirred - Smelled sweet as musk; -And all the little waves of air it kissed - Turned cold and amethyst. - -There in the dew and dusk a heart it found; - There in the dusk and dew -The sodden silence changed to fragrant sound; - And all the world seemed new. -Upon the path that little word had trod, - There shone the smile of God. - -The Muse said, Drop thy lyre. - I tire, I tire. - - - -THE SPINSTER - - - -I - -Here are the orchard trees all large with fruit; -And yonder fields are golden with young grain. -In little journeys, branchward from the nest, -A mother bird, with sweet insistent cries, -Urges her young to use their untried wings. -A purring Tabby, stretched upon the sward, -Shuts and expands her velvet paws in joy, -While sturdy kittens nuzzle at her breast. - -O mighty Maker of the Universe, -Am I not part and parcel of Thy World, -And one with Nature? Wherefore, then, in me -Must this great reproductive impulse lie -Hidden, ashamed, unnourished, and denied, -Until it starves to slow and tortuous death? -I knew the hope of spring-time; like the tree -Now ripe with fruit, I budded, and then bloomed; -We laughed together through the young May morns; -We dreamed together through the summer moons; -Till all Thy purposes within the tree -Were to fruition brought. Lord, Thou hast heard -The Woman in me crying for the Man; -The Mother in me crying for the Child; -And made no answer. Am I less to Thee -Than lover forms of Nature, or in truth -Dost Thou hold Somewhere in another Realm -Full compensation and large recompense -For lonely virtue forced by fate to live -A life unnatural, in a natural world? - -II - -Thou who hast made for such sure purposes -The mightiest and the meanest thing that is - -Planned out the lives of insects of the air -With fine precision and consummate care, -Thou who hast taught the bee the secret power -Of carrying on love's laws 'twixt flower and flower, -Why didst Thou shape this mortal frame of mine, -If Heavenly joys alone were Thy design? -Wherefore the wonder of my woman's breast, -By lips of lover and of babe unpressed, -If spirit children only shall reply -Unto my ever urgent mother cry? -Why should the rose be guided to its own, -And my love-craving heart beat on alone? - -III - -Yet do I understand; for Thou hast made -Something more subtle than this heart of me; -A finer part of me -To be obeyed. - -Albeit I am a sister to the earth, -This nature self is not the whole of me; -The deathless soul of me -Has nobler birth. - -The primal woman hungers for the man; -My better self demands the mate of me; -The spirit fate of me, -Part of Thy plan. - -Nature is instinct with the mother-need; -So is my heart; but ah, the child of me -Should, undefiled of me, -Spring from love's seed. - -And if, in barren chastity, I must -Know but in dreams that perfect choice of me, -Still will the voice of me -Proclaim God just. - - - -BROTHERHOOD - - - -When in the even ways of life - The old world jogs along, -Our little coloured flags we flaunt: -Our little separate selves we vaunt: - Each pipes his native song. -And jealousy and greed and pride - Join their ungodly hands, -And this round lovely world divide - Into opposing lands. - -But let some crucial hour of pain - Sound from the tower of time, -Then consciousness of brotherhood -Wakes in each heart the latent good, - And men become sublime. -As swarming insects of the night, - Fly when the sun bursts in, -Self fades, before love's radiant light, - And all the world is kin. - -God, what a place this earth would be - If that uplifting thought, -Born of some vast world accident, -Into our daily lives were blent, - And in each action wrought. -But while we let the old sins flock - Back to our hearts again, -In flame, and flood, and earthquake shock, - Thy voice must speak to men. - - - -'THE TAVERN OF LAST TIMES' -(AT BOX HILL, SURREY) - - - -A modern hour from London (as we spin -Into a silver thread the miles of space -Between us and our goal), there is a place -Apart from city traffic, dust, and din, -Green with great trees, where hides a quiet Inn. -Here Nelson last looked on the lovely face -Which made his world; and by its magic grace -Trailed rosy clouds across each early sin. -And, leaning lawnward, is the room where Keats -Wrote the last one of those immortal songs -(Called by the critics of his day 'mere rhymes'). -A lark, high in the boxwood bough repeats -Those lyric strains, to idle passing throngs, -There by the little Tavern-of-Last-Times. - - - -THE TWO AGES - - - -On a great cathedral window I have seen -A Summer sunset swoon and sink away, -Lost in the splendours of immortal art. -Angels and saints and all the heavenly hosts, -With smiles undimmed by half a thousand years, -From wall and niche have met my lifted gale. -Sculpture and carving and illumined page, -And the fair, lofty dreams of architects, -That speak of beauty to the centuries - -All these have fed me with divine repasts. -Yet in my mouth is left a bitter taste, -The taste of blood that stained that age of art. - -Those glorious windows shine upon the black -And hideous structure of the guillotine; -Beside the haloed countenance of saints -There hangs the multiple and knotted lash. -The Christ of love, benign and beautiful, -Looks at the torture-rack, by hate conceived -And bigotry sustained. The prison cell, -With blood-stained walls, where starving men went mad, -Lies under turrets matchless in their grace. - -God, what an age! How was it that You let -Colossal genius and colossal crime -Walk for a hundred years across the earth, -Like giant twins? How was it then that men, -Conceiving such vast beauty for the world, -And such large hopes of heaven, could entertain -Such hellish projects for their human kin? -How could the hand that, with consummate skill -And loving patience, limned the luminous page, -Drop pen and brush, and seize the branding-rod, -To scourge a brother for his differing faith? - -Not great this age in beauty or in art; -Nothing is wrought to-day that shall endure -For earth's adornment, through long centuries; -Not ours the fervid worship of a God -That wastes its splendid opulence on glass, -Leaving but hate for hungry human hearts. -Yet great this age; its mighty work is man -Knowing himself the universal life. -And great our faith, which shows itself in works -For human freedom and for racial good. -The true religion lies in being kind. -No age is greater than its faith is broad. -Through liberty and love men climb to God. - - - -IF I WERE - - - -If I were a raindrop, and you were a leaf, - I would burst from the cloud above you, -And lie on your breast in a rapture of rest, - And love you, love you, love you. - -If I were a brown bee, and you were a rose, - I would fly to you, love, nor miss you; -I would sip and sip from your nectared lip, - And kiss you, kiss you, kiss you. - -If I were a doe, dear, and you were a brook, - Ah, what would I do then, think you? -I would kneel by the bank, in the grasses dank, - And drink you, drink you, drink you. - - - -WARNED - - - -They stood at the garden gate. - By the lifting of a lid -She might have read her fate - In a little thing he did. - -He plucked a beautiful flower; - Tore it away from its place -On the side of the blooming bower; - And held it against his face. - -Drank in its beauty and bloom, - In the midst of his idle talk; -Then cast it down to the gloom - And dust of the garden walk. - -Ay, trod it under his foot, - As it lay in his pathway there; -Then spurned it away with his boot, - Because it bad ceased to be fair. - -Ah! the maiden might have read - The doom of her young life then; -But she looked in his eyes instead, - And thought him the king of men. - -She looked in his eyes and blushed, - She hid in his strong arms' fold; -And the tale of the flower, crushed - And spurned, was once more told. - - - -FORWARD - - - -Let me look always forward. Never back. -Was I not formed for progress? Otherwise -With onward pointing feet and searching eyes -Would God have set me squarely on the track -Up which we all must labour with life's pack? -Yonder the goal of all this travel lies. -What matters it, if yesterday the skies -With light were golden, or with clouds were black? -I would not lose to-morrow's glow of dawn -By peering backward after sun's long set. -New hope is fairer than an old regret; -Let me pursue my journey and press on - -Nor tearful eyed, stand ever in one spot, -A briny statue like the wife of Lot. - - - -IN ENGLAND - - - -In England there are wrongs, no doubt, -Which should be righted; so men say, -Who seek to weed earth's garden out -And give the roses right of way. -Yes, right of way to fruit and rose, -Where now but poison ivy grows. - -In England there is wide unrest -They tell me, who should know. And yet -I saw but hedges gaily dressed, -And eyes, where love and kindness met. -Yes, love and kindness, met and made -Soft sunshine, even in the shade. - -In England there are haunting things -Which follow one to other lands; -Like some pervading scent that clings -To laces, touched by vanished hands. -Yes, touched by vanished hands, that gave -A fragrance which defies the grave. - -In England, centuries of art -Give common things a mellow tone, -And wake old memories in the heart -Of other lives the soul has known. -Yes, other lives in some past age -Start forth from canvas, or from page. - -In England there are simple joys -The modern world has left all sweet; -In London's heart are nooks, where noise -Has entered but with slippered feet; -Yes, entered softly. - Friend, believe, -To part from England is to grieve. - - - -KARMA - - - -I - -We cannot choose our sorrows. One there was -Who, reverent of soul, and strong with trust, -Cried, 'God, though Thou shouldst bow me to the dust, -Yet will I praise thy everlasting laws. -Beggared, my faith would never halt or pause, -But sing Thy glory, feasting on a crust. -Only one boon, one precious boon I must -Demand of Thee, O opulent great Cause. -Let Love stay with me, constant to the end, -Though fame pass by and poverty pursue.' -With freighted hold her life ship onward sailed; -The world gave wealth, and pleasure, and a friend, -Unmarred by envy, and whose heart was true. -But ere the sun reached midday, Love had failed. - -II - -Then from the depths, in bitterness she cried, -'Hell is on earth, and heaven is but a dream; -And human life a troubled aimless stream; -And God is nowhere. Would God so deride -A loving creature's faith?' A voice replied, -'The stream flows onward to the Source Supreme, -Where things that ARE replace the things that SEEM, -And where the deeds of all past lives abide. -Once at thy door Love languished and was spurned. -Who sorrow plants, must garner sorrow's sheaf. -No prayers can change the seedling in the sod. -By thine own heart Love's anguish must be learned. -Pass on, and know, as one made wise by grief, -That in thyself dwells heaven and hell and God.' - - - -THE GOSSIPS - - - -A rose in my garden, the sweetest and fairest, - Was hanging her head through the long golden hours; -And early one morning I saw her tears falling, - And heard a low gossiping talk in the bowers. - -The yellow Nasturtium, a spinster all faded, - Was telling a Lily what ailed the poor Rose: -'That wild, roving Bee, who was hanging about her - Has jilted her squarely, as every one knows. - -'I knew when he came, with his singing and sighing, - His airs and his speeches, so fine and so sweet, -Just how it would end; but no one would believe me, - For all were quite ready to fall at his feet.' - -'Indeed, you are wrong,' said the Lilybelle proudly, - 'I cared nothing for him. He called on me once -And would have come often, no doubt, if I'd asked him. - But though he was handsome, I thought him a dunce.' - -'Now, now, that's not true,' cried the tall Oleander. - 'He has travelled and seen every flower that grows; -And one who has supped in the garden of princes, - We all might have known would not wed with the Rose.' - -'But wasn't she proud when he showed her attention? - And she let him caress her,' said sly Mignonette. -'And I used to see it and blush for her folly. - The silly thing thinks he will come to her yet.' - -'I thought he was splendid,' said pretty, pert Larkspur. - 'So dark and so grand, with that gay cloak of gold; -But he tried once to kiss me, the impudent fellow, - And I got offended; I thought him too bold.' - -'Oh, fie!' laughed the Almond. 'That does for a story. - Though I hang down my head, yet I see all that goes; -And I saw you reach out, trying hard to detain him, - But he just tapped your cheek and flew by to the Rose. - -'He cared nothing for her, he only was flirting - To while away time, as every one knew; -So I turned a cold shoulder to all his advances, - Because I was certain his heart was untrue.' - -'The Rose it served right for her folly in trusting - An oily-tongued stranger,' quoth proud Columbine. -'I knew what he was, and thought once I would warn her. - But, of course, the affair was no business of mine.' - -'Oh, well,' cried the Peony, shrugging her shoulders, - 'I saw all along that the Bee was a flirt; -But the Rose has been always so praised and so petted, - I thought a good lesson would do her no hurt.' - -Just then came a sound of a love-song sung sweetly; - I saw my proud Rose lifting up her bowed head; -And the talk of the gossips was hushed in a moment, - And the whole garden listened to hear what was said. - -And the dark, handsome Bee, with his cloak o'er his shoulder, - Came swift through the sunlight and kissed the sad Rose, -And whispered: 'My darling, I've roved the world over, - And you are the loveliest blossom that grows.' - - - -TOGETHER - - - -We two in the fever and fervour and glow - Of life's high tide have rejoiced together; -We have looked out over the glittering snow, - And known we were dwelling in Summer weather, -For the seasons are made by the heart I hold, -And not by outdoor heat or cold. - -We two, in the shadows of pain and woe, - Have journeyed together in dim, dark places, -Where black-robed Sorrow walked to and fro, - And Fear and Trouble, with phantom faces, -Peered out upon us and froze our blood, -Though June's fair roses were all in bud. - -We two have measured all depths, all heights, - We have bathed in tears, we have sunned in laughter! -We have known all sorrows and delights - - They never could keep us apart hereafter. -Whether your spirit went high or low, -My own would follow, and find you, I know. - -If they took my soul into Paradise, - And told me I must be content without you, -I would weary them so with my lonesome cries, - And the ceaseless questions I asked about you, -They would open the gates and set me free, -Or else they would find you and bring you to me. - - - -PETITION - - - -God, may Thy loving Spirit work, -In heart of Russian, and of Turk, -Until throughout each clime and land, -Armenian and Jew may stand, -And claim the right of every soul -To seek by its own path, the goal. -Parts of the Universal Force, -Rills from the same eternal Source -Back to that Source, all races go. -God, help Thy world to see it so. - - - -A WAFT OF PERFUME - - - -A waft of perfume from a bit of lace - Moved lightly by a passing woman's hand; -And on the common street, a sensuous grace - Shone suddenly from some lost time and land. - -Tall structures changed to dome and parapet; - The stern-faced Church an oracle became; -In sheltered alcoves marble busts were set; - And on the wall frail Lais wrote her name. - -Phryne before her judges stood at bay, - Fearing the rigour of Athenian laws; -Till Hyperides tore her cloak away, - And bade her splendid beauty plead its cause. - -Great Alexander walking in the dusk, - Dreamed of the hour when Greek with Greek should meet; -From Thais' window attar breathed, and musk: - His footsteps went no farther down the street. - -Faint and more faint the pungent perfume grew; - Of wall and parapet remained no trace. -Temple and statue vanished from the view: - The city street again was commonplace. - - - -THE PLOUGH - - - -If you listen you will hear, from east to west, -Growing sounds of discontent and deep unrest. -It is just the progress-driven plough of God, -Tearing up the well-worn custom-bounded sod; -Shaping out each old tradition-trodden track -Into furrows, fertile furrows, rich and black. -Oh, what harvests they will yield -When they widen to a field. - -They will widen, they will broaden, day by day, -As the Progress-driven plough keeps on its way. -It will riddle all the ancient roads that lead -Into palaces of selfishness and greed; -It will tear away the almshouse and the slum -That the little homes and garden plots may come. -Yes, the gardens green and sweet -Shall replace the stony street. - -Let the wise man hear the menace that is blent -In this ever-growing sound of discontent. -Let him hear the rising clamour of the race -That the few shall yield the many larger space. -For the crucial hour is coming when the soil -Must be given to, or taken back by Toil -Oh, that mighty plough of God; -Hear it breaking through the sod! - - - -GO PLANT A TREE - - - -God, what a joy it is to plant a tree, -And from the sallow earth to watch it rise, -Lifting its emerald branches to the skies -In silent adoration; and to see -Its strength and glory waxing with each spring. -Yes, 'tis a goodly, and a gladsome thing -To plant a tree. - -Nature has many marvels; but a tree -Seems more than marvellous. It is divine. -So generous, so tender, so benign. -Not garrulous like the rivers; and yet free -In pleasant converse with the winds and birds; -Oh! privilege beyond explaining words, -To plant a tree. - -Rocks are majestic; but, unlike a tree, -They stand aloof, and silent. In the roar -Of ocean billows breaking on the shore -There sounds the voice of turmoil. But a tree -Speaks ever of companionship and rest. -Yea, of all righteous acts, this, this is best, -To plant a tree. - -There is an oak (oh! how I love that tree) -Which has been thriving for a hundred years; -Each day I send my blessing through the spheres -To one who gave this triple boon to me, -Of growing beauty, singing birds, and shade. -Wouldst thou win laurels that shall never fade? -Go plant a tree. - - - -PAIN'S PURPOSE - - - -How blind is he who prays that God will send -All pain from earth. Pain has its use and place; -Its ministry of holiness and grace. -The darker tones upon the canvas blend -With light and colour; and their shadows lend -The painting half its dignity. Efface -The sombre background, and you lose all trace -Of that perfection which is true art's trend. - -Life is an artist seeking to reveal -God's majesty and beauty in each soul. -If from the palette mortal man could steal -The precious pigment, pain, why then the scroll -Would glare with colours meaningless and bright, -Or show an empty canvas, blurred with light. - - - -MEMORY'S MANSION - - - -In Memory's Mansion are wonderful rooms, - And I wander about them at will; -And I pause at the casements, where boxes of blooms - Are sending sweet scents o'er the sill. -I lean from a window that looks on a lawn: - From a turret that looks on the wave. -But I draw down the shade, when I see on some glade, - A stone standing guard, by a grave. - -To Memory's attic I clambered one day, - When the roof was resounding with rain. -And there, among relics long hidden away, - I rummaged with heart-ache and pain. -A hope long surrendered and covered with dust, - A pastime, out-grown, and forgot, -And a fragment of love, all corroded with rust, - Were lying heaped up in one spot. - -And there on the floor of that garret was tossed - A friendship too fragile to last, -With pieces of dearly bought pleasures, that cost - Vast fortunes of pain in the past. -A fabric of passion, once ardent and bright, - As tropical sunsets in spring, -Was spread out before me--a terrible sight - - A moth-eaten rag of a thing. - -Then down the steep stairway I hurriedly went, - And into fair chambers below. -But the mansion seemed filled with the old attic scent, - Wherever my footsteps would go. -Though in Memory's House I still wander full oft, - No more to the garret I climb; -And I leave all the rubbish heaped there in the loft - To the hands of the Housekeeper, Time. - - - -OLD RHYTHM AND RHYME - - - -They tell me new methods now govern the Muses, - The modes of expression have changed with the times; -That low is the rank of the poet who uses - The old-fashioned verse with intentional rhymes. -And quite out of date, too, is rhythmical metre; - The critics declare it an insult to art. -But oh! the sweet swing of it, oh! the clear ring of it, - Oh the great pulse of it, right from the heart, - Art or no art. - -I sat by the side of that old poet, Ocean, - And counted the billows that broke on the rocks; -The tide lilted in with a rhythmical motion; - The sea-gulls dipped downward in time-keeping flocks. -I watched while a giant wave gathered its forces, - And then on the gray granite precipice burst; -And I knew as I counted, while other waves mounted, - I knew the tenth billow would rhyme with the first. - -Below in the village a church bell was chiming, - And back in the woodland a little bird sang; -And, doubt it who will, yet those two sounds were rhyming, - As out o'er the hill-tops they echoed and rang. - -The Wind and the Trees fell to talking together; - And nothing they said was didactic or terse; -But everything spoken was told in unbroken - And beautiful rhyming and rhythmical verse. - -So rhythm I hail it, though critics assail it, - And hold melting rhymes as an insult to art, -For oh! the sweet swing of it, oh! the dear ring of it, - Oh! the strong pulse of it, right from the heart, - Art or no art. - - - -ALL IN A COACH AND FOUR - - - -The quality folk went riding by, -All in a coach and four, -And pretty Annette, in a calico gown -(Bringing her marketing things from town), -Stopped short with her Sunday store, -And wondered if ever it should betide -That she in a long plumed hat would ride - Away in a coach and four. - -A lord there was, oh a lonely soul, -There in the coach and four. -His years were young but his heart was old, -And he hated his coaches and hated his gold -(Those things which we all adore). -And he thought how sweet it would be to trudge -Along with the fair little country drudge, - And away from his coach and four. - -So back he rode the very next day -All in his coach and four, -And he went each day whether dry or wet, -Until he married the sweet Annette -(In spite of her lack of lore). -But they didn't trudge off on foot together, -For he bought her a hat with a long, long feather, - And they rode in the coach and four. - -Now a thing like this could happen we know, -All in a coach and four; -But the fact of it is, 'twixt me and you, -There isn't a word of the story true -(Pardon I do implore). -It is only a foolish and fanciful song -That came to me as I rode along, - All in a coach and four. - - - -SONGS OF A COUNTRY HOME - - - -I - -Who has not felt his heart leap up, and glow -What time the Tulips first begin to blow, -Has one sweet joy still left for him to know. - -It is like early love's imagining, -That fragile pleasure which the Tulips bring, -When suddenly we see them, in the Spring. - -Not all the garden's later royal train, -Not great triumphant Roses, when they reign, -Can bring that delicate delight again. - -II - -One of the sweetest hours is this; -(Of all I think we like it best); -A little restful oasis, -Between the breakfast and the post. -Just south of coffee and of toast, -Just north of daily task and duty; -Just west of dreams, this island gleams, -A fertile spot of peace and beauty. - -We wander out across the lawn; -We idle by a bush in bloom; -The household pets come following on; -Or if the day is one of gloom, -We loiter in a pleasant room, -Or from a casement lean and chatter. -Then comes the mail, like sudden hail, -And off we scatter. - -III - -When Roses die, in languid August days, -We leave the garden to its fallen ways, -And seek the shelter of wide porticoes, -Where Honeysuckle in defiance blows -Undaunted by the sun's too ardent rays. - -The matron Summer turns a wistful gaze -Across green valleys, back to tender Mays; -And something of her large contentment goes, - When Roses die; -Yet all her subtle fascination stays -To lure us into idle, sweet delays. -The lowered awning by the hammock shows -Inviting nooks for dreaming and repose; -Oh, restful are the pleasures of those days - When Roses die. - -IV - -The summer folk, fled back to town; -The green woods changed to red and brown; -A sound upon the frosty air -Of windows closing everywhere. - -And then the log, lapped by a blaze - -Oh! what is better than these days; -With books and friends and love a-near; -Go on, gay world, but leave me here. - - - -WORTHY THE NAME OF 'SIR KNIGHT' - - - -Sir Knight of the world's oldest order, - Sir Knight of the Army of God, -You have crossed the strange mystical border, - The ground-floor of truth you have trod; -You stand on the typical threshold - Which leads to the temple above; -Where you come as a stone, and a Christ-chosen one, - In the Kingdom of Friendship and Love. - -As you stand in this new realm of beauty, - Where each man you meet is your friend, -Think not that your promise of duty - In hall, or asylum, shall end. -Outside, in the great world of pleasure. - Beyond in the clamour of trade, -In the battle of life and its coarse daily strife, - Remember the vows you have made. - -Your service, majestic and solemn, - Your symbols, suggestive and sweet, -Your uniform phalanx in column - On gala-days marching the street; -Your sword and your plume and your helmet, - Your 'secrets' hid from the world's sight; -These things are the small, lesser parts of the all - Which are needed to form the true Knight. - -The martyrs who perished rejoicing, - In Templary's glorious laws, -Who died 'midst the faggots while voicing - The glory and worth of their cause - -They honoured the title of 'Templar' - No more than the Knight of to-day, -Who mars not the name with one blemish of shame, - But carries it clean through life's fray. - -To live for a cause; to endeavour - To make your deeds grace it; to try -And uphold its precepts for ever, - Is harder by far than to die. -For the battle of life is unending, - The enemy, Self, never tires, -And the true Knight must slay that sly foe every day, - Ere he reaches the heights he desires. - -Sir Knight, have you pondered the meaning - Of all you have heard and been told? -Have you strengthened your heart for its weaning - From vices and faults loved of old? -Will you honour, in hours of temptation, - Your promises noble and grand? -Will your spirit be strong to do battle with wrong, - 'And, having done all, to stand'? - -Will you ever be true to a brother - In actions as well as in creed? -Will you stand by his side as no other - Could stand, in the hour of his need? -Will you boldly defend him from peril, - And lift from him poverty's curse - -Will the promise of old, which you willingly made, - Reach down from your lips to your purse? - -The world's battle-field is before you: - Let Wisdom walk close by your side, -Let Faith spread her snowy wings o'er you, - Let Truth be your comrade and guide; -Let Fortitude, Justice, and Mercy - Direct all your conduct aright, -And let each word and act tell to men the proud fact, - You are worthy the name of 'Sir Knight.' - - - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, THE ENGLISHMAN AND OTHER POEMS *** - -This file should be named engm10.txt or engm10.zip -Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, engm11.txt -VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, engm10a.txt - -Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US -unless a copyright notice is included. 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