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diff --git a/old/psen10.txt b/old/psen10.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 3068bab..0000000 --- a/old/psen10.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,3006 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Poems of Sentiment, by Ella Wheeler Wilcox -(#9 in our series by Ella Wheeler Wilcox) - -Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the -copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing -this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. - -This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project -Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the -header without written permission. - -Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the -eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is -important information about your specific rights and restrictions in -how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a -donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. - - -**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** - -**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** - -*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** - - -Title: Poems of Sentiment - -Author: Ella Wheeler Wilcox - -Release Date: October, 2004 [EBook #6617] -[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] -[This file was first posted on December 31, 2002] - -Edition: 10 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, POEMS OF SENTIMENT *** - - - - -Transcribed from the 1919 Gay and Hancock edition by David Price, -email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk - - - -POEMS OF SENTIMENT - - - - -Contents: - Double Carnations - Never Mind - Two Women - It All Will Come Out Right - A Warning - Shrines - The Watcher - Swimming Song - The Law - Love, Time, and Will - The Two Ages - Couleur de Rose - Last Love - Life's Track - An Ode to Time - Regret and Remorse - Easter Morn - Blind - The Yellow-covered Almanac - The Little White Hearse - Realisation - Success - The Lady and the Dame - Heaven and Hell - Love's Supremacy - The Eternal Will - Insight - A Woman's Love - The Paean of Peace - "Has Been" - Duty's Path - March - The End of the Summer - Sun Shadows - "He that Looketh" - An Erring Woman's Love - A Song of Republics - Memorial Day--1892 - When baby Souls Sail Out - To Another Woman's Baby - Diamonds - Rubies - Sapphires - Turquoise - Reform - A Minor Chord - Death's Protest - September - Wail of an Old-timer - Was, Is, and Yet-to-be - Mistakes - Dual - The All-creative Spark - Be not Content - Action - Two Roses - Satiety - A Solar Eclipse - A Suggestion - The Depths - Life's Opera - The Salt Sea-wind - New Year - Concentration - Thoughts - Luck - - - - -DOUBLE CARNATIONS - - - - A wild Pink nestled in a garden bed, -A rich Carnation flourished high above her, - One day he chanced to see her pretty head -And leaned and looked again, and grew to love her. - - The Moss (her humble mother) saw with fear -The ardent glances of the princely stranger; - With many an anxious thought and dewy tear -She sought to hide her darling from this danger. - - The gardener-guardian of this noble bud -A cruel trellis interposed between them. - No common Pink should mate with royal blood, -He said, and sought in every way to wean them. - - The poor Pink pined and faded day by day: -Her restless lover from his prison bower - Called in a priestly bee who passed that way, -And sent a message to the sorrowing flower. - - The fainting Pink wept as the bee drew near, -Droning his prayers, and begged him to confess her. - Her weary mother, over-taxed by fear, -Slept, while the priest leaned low to shrive and bless her. - - But lo! ere long the tale went creeping out, -The rich Carnation and the Pink were married! - The cunning bee had brought the thing about -While Mamma Moss in Slumber's arms had tarried. - - And proud descendants of that loving pair, -The offspring of that true and ardent passion, - Are famous for their beauty everywhere, -And leaders in the floral world of fashion. - - - -NEVER MIND - - - -Whatever your work and whatever its worth, - No matter how strong or clever, -Some one will sneer if you pause to hear, - And scoff at your best endeavour. -For the target art has a broad expanse, - And wherever you chance to hit it, -Though close be your aim to the bull's-eye fame, - There are those who will never admit it. - -Though the house applauds while the artist plays, - And a smiling world adores him, -Somebody is there with an ennuied air - To say that the acting bores him. -For the tower of art has a lofty spire, - With many a stair and landing, -And those who climb seem small oft-time - To one at the bottom standing. - -So work along in your chosen niche - With a steady purpose to nerve you; -Let nothing men say who pass your way - Relax your courage or swerve you. -The idle will flock by the Temple of Art - For just the pleasure of gazing; -But climb to the top and do not stop, - Though they may not all be praising. - - - -TWO WOMEN - - - -I know two women, and one is chaste -And cold as the snows on a winter waste, -Stainless ever in act and thought -(As a man, born dumb, in speech errs not). -But she has malice toward her kind, -A cruel tongue and a jealous mind. -Void of pity and full of greed, -She judges the world by her narrow creed; -A brewer of quarrels, a breeder of hate, -Yet she holds the key to "Society's" Gate. - -The other woman, with heart of flame, -Went mad for a love that marred her name: -And out of the grave of her murdered faith -She rose like a soul that has passed through death. -Her aims are noble, her pity so broad, -It covers the world like the mercy of God. -A soother of discord, a healer of woes, -Peace follows her footsteps wherever she goes. -The worthier life of the two, no doubt, -And yet "Society" locks her out. - - - -IT ALL WILL COME OUT RIGHT - - - -Whatever is a cruel wrong, - Whatever is unjust, -The honest years that speed along - Will trample in the dust. -In restless youth I railed at fate - With all my puny might, -But now I know if I but wait - It all will come out right. - -Though Vice may don the judge's gown - And play the censor's part, -And Fact be cowed by Falsehood's frown - And Nature ruled by art; -Though Labour toils through blinding tears - And idle Wealth is might, -I know the honest, earnest years - Will bring it all out right. - -Though poor and loveless creeds may pass - For pure religion's gold; -Though ignorance may rule the mass - While truth meets glances cold, -I know a law complete, sublime, - Controls us with its might, -And in God's own appointed time - It all will come out right. - - - -A WARNING - - - -There was a flame, oh! such a tiny flame - - One fleeting hour had spanned its birth and death, - But for a silly child with playful breath -Who fanned it into fury. It became -A mighty conflagration. Ah, the cost! -House, home, and thoughtless child alike were lost. - -Lady beware. Fan not the harmless glow - Of admiration into ardent love, - Lean not with red curled smiling lips above -The flickering spark of sinless flame, and blow, -Lest in the sudden waking of desire -Thou, like the child, shalt perish in the fire. - - - -SHRINES - - - -About a holy shrine or sacred place, - Where many hearts have bowed in earnest prayer, -The loveliest spirits congregate from space, - And bring their sweet, uplifting influence there. - -If in your chamber you pray oft and well, - Soon will these angel-messengers arrive -And make their home with you, and where they dwell - All worthy toil and purposes shall thrive. - -I know a humble, plainly furnished room, - So thronged with presences serene and bright, -The heaviest heart therein forgets its gloom - As in some gorgeous temple filled with light. - -Those heavenly spirits, beauteous and divine, - Live only in an atmosphere of prayer; -Make for yourself a sacred, fervent shrine, - And you will find them swiftly flocking there. - - - -THE WATCHER - - - -She gave her soul and body for a carriage, - And livened lackey with a vacant grin, -And all the rest--house, lands--and called it marriage: - The bargain made, a husband was thrown in. - -And now, despite her luxury, she's faded, - Gone is the bloom that was so fresh and bright; -She has the dark-rimmed eye, the countenance jaded, - Of one who watches with the sick at night. - -Ah, heaven, she does! her sick heart, sick and dying, - Beyond the aid of human skill to save, -In that cold room her breast is hourly lying, - And her grim thoughts crowd near to dig its grave. - -And yet it lingers, suffering and wailing, - As sick hearts will that feed upon despair, -And that lone watcher, unrelieved, is paling - With vigils that no pitying soul can share. - -Ah, lady! it is hardly what you thought it, - This life of luxury and social power; -You gave yourself as principal, and bought it, - But God extracts the interest hour by hour. - - - -SWIMMING SONG - - - - I am coming, coming to thee, - My strong-armed lover, the Sea! -On thy great broad breast I will lie and rest, - And thou shalt talk to me. - - I have come to thee, all unsought, - I have stolen an hour from thought, -And peace and power thou canst give in that hour, - Which thy rival Earth gives not. - - Alone here, under the sky, - And the whole world drifting by! -Thy breast of brine thrills close to mine, - While the cloudless sun sails high. - - I fly, but thou givest chase - - Thy kisses are on my face! -Be bold and free as thou wilt, O Sea, - There is life in thy close embrace. - - Throat and cheek and tress - Are damp where thy salt lips press! -There is strength and bliss in thy daring kiss, - And joy in thy bold caress. - - And what is the Earth to me! - I have left it all, O Sea! -With its dust and soil and strife and toil, - For one glad hour with thee. - - - -THE LAW - - - -The sun may be clouded, yet ever the sun -Will sweep on its course till the cycle is run. -And when into chaos the systems are hurled, -Again shall the Builder reshape a new world. - -Your path may be clouded, uncertain your goal; -Move on, for the orbit is fixed for your soul. -And though it may lead into darkness of night, -The torch of the Builder shall give it new light. - -You were, and you will be: know this while you are. -Your spirit has travelled both long and afar. -It came from the Source, to the Source it returns; -The spark that was lighted, eternally burns. - -It slept in the jewel, it leaped in the wave, -It roamed in the forest, it rose in the grave, -It took on strange garbs for long aeons of years, -And now in the soul of yourself it appears. - -From body to body your spirit speeds on; -It seeks a new form when the old one is gone; -And the form that it finds is the fabric you wrought -On the loom of the mind, with the fibre of thought. - -As dew is drawn upward, in rain to descend, -Your thoughts drift away and in destiny blend. -You cannot escape them; or petty, or great, -Or evil, or noble, they fashion your fate. - -Somewhere on some planet, sometime and somehow, -Your life will reflect all the thoughts of your now. -The law is unerring; no blood can atone; -The structure you rear you must live in alone. - -From cycle to cycle, through time and through space, -Your lives with your longings will ever keep pace. -And all that you ask for, and all you desire, -Must come at your bidding, as flames out of fire. - -Once list to that voice and all tumult is done, -Your life is the life of the Infinite One; -In the hurrying race you are conscious of pause, -With love for the purpose and love for the cause. - -You are your own devil, you are your own God, -You fashioned the paths that your footsteps have trod, -And no one can save you from error or sin, -Until you shall hark to the Spirit within. - - - -LOVE, TIME, AND WILL - - - -A soul immortal, Time, God everywhere, -Without, within--how can a heart despair, -Or talk of failure, obstacles, and doubt? -(What proofs of God? The little seeds that sprout, -Life, and the solar system, and their laws. -Nature? Ah, yes; but what was Nature's cause?) - -All mighty words are short: God, life, and death, -War, peace, and truth, are uttered in a breath. -And briefly said are love, and will, and time; -Yet in them lies a majesty sublime. - -Love is the vast constructive power of space; -Time is the hour which calls it into place; -Will is the means of using time and love, -And bringing forth the heart's desires thereof. - -The way is love, the time is now, and will -The patient method. Let this knowledge fill -Thy consciousness, and fate and circumstance, -Environment, and all the ills of chance -Must yield before the concentrated might -Of those three words, as shadows yield to light. - -Go, charge thyself with love; be infinite -And opulent with thy large use of it: -'Tis from free sowing that full harvest springs; -Love God and life and all created things. - -Learn time's great value; to this mandate bow, -The hour of opportunity is Now, -And from thy will, as from a well-strung bow, -Let the swift arrows of thy wishes go. -Though sent into the distance and the dark, -The dawn shall prove thy arrows hit the mark. - - - -THE TWO AGES - - - -On 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 gaze. -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 fellow-men? -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, to give it mortal kin. -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. - - - -COULEUR DE ROSE - - -I want more lives in which to love - This world so full of beauty, -I want more days to use the ways - I know of doing duty; -I ask no greater joy than this - (So much I am life's lover), -When I reach age to turn the page - And read the story over. - (O love, stay near!) - -O rapturous promise of the Spring! - O June fulfilling after! -If Autumns sigh, when Summers die, - 'Tis drowned in Winter's laughter. -O maiden dawns, O wifely noons, - O siren sweet, sweet nights, -I'd want no heaven could earth be given - Again with its delights - (If love stayed near). - -There are such glories for the eye, - Such pleasures for the ear, -The senses reel with all they feel - And see and taste and hear; -There are such ways of doing good, - Such ways of being kind, -And bread that's cast on waters fast - Comes home again, I find. - (O love, stay near.) - -There are such royal souls to know, - There is so much to learn, -While secrets rest in Nature's breast - And unnamed stars still burn. -God toiled six days to make this earth, - I think the good folks say - -Six lives we need to give full meed - Of praise--one for each day - (If love stay near). - -But oh! if love fled far away, - Or veiled his face from me, -One life too much, why then were such - A life as this would be. -With sullen May and blighted June, - Blurred dawn and haggard night, -This dear old world in space were hurled - If love lent not his light. - (O love, stay near!) - - - -LAST LOVE - - - -The first flower of the spring is not so fair -Or bright as one the ripe midsummer brings. -The first faint note the forest warbler sings -Is not as rich with feeling, or so rare -As when, full master of his art, the air -Drowns in the liquid sea of song he flings -Like silver spray from beak, and breast, and wings. -The artist's earliest effort, wrought with care, -The bard's first ballad, written in his tears, -Set by his later toil, seems poor and tame, -And into nothing dwindles at the test. -So with the passions of maturer years. -Let those who will demand the first fond flame, -Give me the heart's LAST LOVE, for that is best. - - - -LIFE'S TRACK - - - -This game of life is a dangerous play, -Each human soul must watch alway, - From the first to the very last. -I care not however strong and pure - -Let no man say he is perfectly sure - The dangerous reefs are past. - -For many a rock may lurk near by, -That never is seen when the tide is high - - Let no man dare to boast, -When the hand is full of trumps--beware, -For that is the time when thought and care - And nerve are needed most. - -As the oldest jockey knows to his cost, -Full many a well-run race is lost - A brief half length from the wire. -And many a soul that has fought with sin, -And gained each battle, at last gives in - To sudden, fierce desire. - -And vain seems the effort of spur and whip, -Or the hoarse, hot cry of the pallid lip, - When once we have fallen back. -It is better to keep on stirrup and rein, -The steady poise and the careful strain, - In speeding along Life's track. - -A watchful eye and a strong, true hand -Will carry us under the Judge's stand, - If prayer, too, does its part; -And little by little the struggling soul -Will grow and strengthen and gain control - Over the passionate heart. - - - -AN ODE TO TIME - - - -Ho! sportsman Time, whose chargers fleet - The moments, madly driven, -Beat in the dust beneath their feet - Sweet hopes that years have given; -Turn, turn aside those reckless steeds, - Oh! do not urge them my way; -There's nothing that Time wants or needs - In this contented by-way. - -You have down-trodden, in your race, - So much that proves your power, -Why not avoid my humble place? - Why rob me of my dower? -With your vast cellars, cavern deep, - Packed tier on tier with treasures, -You would not miss them should I KEEP - My little store of pleasures. - -As one who, frightened, flying, flings - Her riches down at random, -Your course is paved with precious things - Life casts before your tandem: -The warrior's fame, the conqueror's crown, - Great creeds for ages cherished, -Beneath your chariot-wheels were thrown, - And, crushed to earth, they perished. - -Although to just and generous deeds - Your heart is not a stranger, -I have the feeling that one needs - To guard his wealth from danger. -And though a most heroic light - Oft on your pathway lingers, -I'd hide my treasures, if I might, - From contact with your fingers. - -You are the loyal friend of Truth, - Go seek her, make her stronger, -And leave the remnant of my youth - To me a little longer. -There's work enough for you before - Eternity shall wed you: -Why stoop to steal my simple store? - Why make me shun and dread you? - -You do not need my joys, I say, - Home, love, and friends united - -I beg you turn and go the way - Where wrong waits to be righted; -Or pause, and let us chat a while: - I'll listen--not too near you, -For oh! no matter how you smile, - I fear you, Time, I fear you! - - - -REGRET AND REMORSE - - - -Regret with streaming eyes doth seem alway -A maiden widowed on her wedding day. - -While dark Remorse, with eyes too sad for tears, -A crushed, desponding Magdalene appears. - -One, with a hungering heart unsatisfied, -Mourns for imagined joys that were denied. - -The other, pierced by recollected sin, -Broods o'er the scars of pleasures that have been. - - - -EASTER MORN - - - -A truth that has long lain buried - At Superstition's door, -I see, in the dawn uprising - In all its strength once more. - -Hidden away in the darkness, - By Ignorance crucified, -Crushed under stones of dogmas - - Yet lo! it has not died. - -It stands in the light transfigured, - It speaks from the heights above, -"EACH SOUL IS ITS OWN REDEEMER; - THERE IS NO LAW BUT LOVE." - -And the spirits of men are gladdened - As they welcome this Truth re-born -With its feet on the grave of Error - And its eyes to the Easter Morn. - - - -BLIND - - - -Whatever a man may think or feel - He can tell to the world and it hears aright; -But it bids the woman conceal, conceal, - And woe to the thoughts that at last ignite. -She may serve up gossip or dwell on fashion, - Or play the critic with speech unkind, -But alas for the woman who speaks with passion! - For the world is blind--for the world is blind. - -It is woman who sits with her starved desire, - And drinks to sorrow in cups of tears; -She reads by the light of her soul on fire - The secrets of love through lonely years: -But out of all she has felt or heard - Or read by the glow of her soul's white flame, -If she dare but utter aloud one word - - How the world cries shame!--how the world cries shame! - -It cannot distinguish between the glow - Of a gleaming star, in the sky of gold, -Or a spent cigar in the dust below - - 'Twixt unclad Eve or a wanton bold; -And ever if woman speaks what she feels - (And feels consistent with God's great plan) -It has cast her under its juggernaut wheels, - Since the world began--since the world began. - - - -THE YELLOW-COVERED ALMANAC - - - -I left the farm when mother died and changed my place of dwelling - To daughter Susie's stylish house right on the city street: -And there was them before I came that sort of scared me, telling - How I would find the town folks' ways so difficult to meet; -They said I'd have no comfort in the rustling, fixed-up throng, - And I'd have to wear stiff collars every week-day, right along. - -I find I take to city ways just like a duck to water; - I like the racket and the noise and never tire of shows; -And there's no end of comfort in the mansion of my daughter, - And everything is right at hand and money freely flows; -And hired help is all about, just listenin' to my call - - But I miss the yellow almanac off my old kitchen wall. - -The house is full of calendars from attic to the cellar, - They're painted in all colours and are fancy like to see, -But in this one particular I'm not a modern feller, - And the yellow-coloured almanac is good enough for me. -I'm used to it, I've seen it round from boyhood to old age, - And I rather like the jokin' at the bottom of the cage. - -I like the way its "S" stood out to show the week's beginning, - (In these new-fangled calendars the days seem sort of mixed), -And the man upon the cover, though he wa'n't exactly winnin', - With lungs and liver all exposed, still showed how we are fixed; -And the letters and credentials that was writ to Mr. Ayer - I've often on a rainy day found readin' pretty fair. - -I tried to buy one recently; there wa'n't none in the city! - They toted out great calendars, in every shape and style. -I looked at 'em in cold disdain, and answered 'em in pity - - "I'd rather have my almanac than all that costly pile." -And though I take to city life, I'm lonesome after all - For that old yellow almanac upon my kitchen wall. - - - -THE LITTLE WHITE HEARSE - - - -Somebody's baby was buried to-day - - The empty white hearse from the grave rumbled back, -And the morning somehow seemed less smiling and gay -As I paused on the walk while it crossed on its way, - And a shadow seemed drawn o'er the sun's golden tract. - -Somebody's baby was laid out to rest, - White as a snowdrop, and fair to behold, -And the soft little hands were crossed over the breast, -And those hands and the lips and the eyelids were pressed - With kisses as hot as the eyelids were cold. - -Somebody saw it go out of her sight, - Under the coffin lid--out through the door; -Somebody finds only darkness and blight -All through the glory of summer-sun light; - Somebody's baby will waken no more. - -Somebody's sorrow is making me weep: - I know not her name, hut I echo her cry, -For the dearly bought baby she longed so to keep, -The baby that rode to its long-lasting sleep - In the little white hearse that went rumbling by. - -I know not her name, but her sorrow I know; - While I paused on the crossing I lived it once more, -And back to my heart surged that river of woe -That but in the breast of a mother can flow; - For the little white hearse has been, too, at MY door. - - - -REALISATION -(At the Old Homestead) - - - -I tread the paths of earlier times -Where all my steps were set to rhymes. - -I gaze on scenes I used to see -When dreaming of a vague To be. - -I walk in ways made bright of old -By hopes youth-limned in hues of gold. - -But lo! those hopes of future bliss -Seem dull beside the joy that IS. - -My noonday skies are far more bright -Than those dreamed of in morning's light, - -And life gives me more joys to hold -Than all it promised me of old. - - - -SUCCESS - - - -As we gaze up life's slope, as we gaze - In the morn, ere the dewdrops are dry, -What splendour hangs over the ways, - What glory gleams there in the sky, - What pleasures seem waiting us, high -On the peak of that beauteous slope, -What rainbow-hued colours of hope, - As we gaze! - -As we climb up the hill, as we climb, - Our hearts, our illusions, are rent: -For Fate, who is spouse of old Time, - Is jealous of youth and content. - With brows that are brooding and bent -She shadows our sunlight of gold, -And the way grows lonely and cold - As we climb. - -As we toil on, through trouble and pain, - There are hands that will shelter and feed; -But once let us dare to ATTAIN - - They will bruise our bare hearts till they bleed. - 'Tis the worst of all crimes to succeed, -Know this as ye feast on a crust, -Know this in the darkness and dust, - Ye who climb. - -As we stand on the heights of success, - Lo! success seems as sad as defeat! -Through the lives we may succour and bless - Alone may its litter turn sweet! - And the world lying there at our feet, -With its cavilling praise and its sneer, -We must pity, condone, but not hear, - Where we stand. - -As we live on those heights, we must live - With the courage and pride of a god; -For the world, it has nothing to give - But the scourge of the lash and the rod. - Our thoughts must be noble and broad, -Our purpose must challenge men's gaze, -While we seek not their blame or their praise - As we live. - - - -THE LADY AND THE DAME - - - -So, thou hast the art, good dame, thou swearest, - To keep Time's perishing touch at bay -From the roseate splendour of the cheek so tender, - And the silver threads from the gold away. -And the tell-tale years that have hurried by us - Shall tip-toe back, and, with kind good-will, -They shall take the traces from off our faces, - If we will trust to thy magic skill. - -Thou speakest fairly; but if I listen - And buy thy secret, and prove its truth, -Hast thou the potion and magic lotion - To give me also the HEART of youth? -With the cheek of rose and the eye of beauty, - And the lustrous looks of life's lost prime, -Wilt thou bring thronging each hope and longing - That made the glory of that dead Time? - -When the sap in the trees sets young buds bursting, - And the song of the birds fills the air like spray, -Will rivers of feeling come once more stealing - From the beautiful hills of the far-away? -Wilt thou demolish the tower of reason, - And fling for ever down into the dust -The caution time brought me, the lessons life taught me, - And put in their places my old sweet trust? - -If Time's foot-print from my brow is driven, - Canst thou, too, take with thy subtle powers -The burden of thinking, and let me go drinking - The careless pleasures of youth's bright hours? -If silver threads from my tresses vanish, - If a glow once more in my pale cheek gleams, -Wilt thou slay duty and give back the beauty - Of days untroubled by aught but dreams? - -When the soft fair arms of the siren Summer - Encircle the earth in their languorous fold, -Will vast, deep oceans of sweet emotions - Surge through my veins as they surged of old? -Canst thou bring back from a day long-vanished - The leaping pulse and the boundless aim? -I will pay thee double, for all thy trouble, - If thou wilt restore all these, good dame. - - - -HEAVEN AND HELL - - - - -While forced to dwell apart from thy dear face, - Love, robed like sorrow, led me by the hand - And taught my doubting heart to understand -That which has puzzled all the human race. -Full many a sage has questioned where in space - Those counter worlds were? where the mystic strand - That separates them? I have found each land, -And Hell is vast, and Heaven a narrow space. - -In the small compass of thy clasping arms, - In reach and sight of thy dear lips and eyes, - There, there for me the joy of Heaven lies. -Outside, lo! chaos, terrors' wild alarms, -And all the desolation fierce and fell -Of void and aching nothingness, makes Hell. - - - -LOVE'S SUPREMACY - - - -As yon great Sun in his supreme condition - Absorbs small worlds and makes them all his own, -So does my love absorb each vain ambition, - Each outside purpose which my life has known. -Stars cannot shine so near that vast orb'd splendour; - They are content to feed his flames of fire: -And so my heart is satisfied to render - Its strength, its all, to meet thy strong desire. - -As in a forest when dead leaves are falling - From all save some perennial green tree, -So one by one I find all pleasures palling - That are not linked with or enjoyed by thee. -And all the homage that the world may proffer, - I take as perfumed oils or incense sweet, -And think of it as one thing more to offer, - And sacrifice to Love, at thy dear feet. - -I love myself because thou art my lover, - My name seems dear since uttered by thy voice; -Yet, argus-eyed, I watch and would discover - Each blemish in the object of thy choice. -I coldly sit in judgment on each error, - To my soul's gaze I hold each fault of me, -Until my pride is lost in abject terror, - Lest I become inadequate to thee. - -Like some swift-rushing and sea-seeking river, - Which gathers force the farther on it goes, -So does the current of my love forever - Find added strength and beauty as it flows. -The more I give, the more remains for giving, - The more receive, the more remains to win. -Ah! only in eternities of living - Will life be long enough to love thee in. - - - -THE ETERNAL WILL - - - -There is no thing we cannot overcome - Say not thy evil instinct is inherited, -Or that some trait inborn makes thy whole life forlorn, - And calls down punishment that is not merited. - -Back of thy parents and grandparents lies - The Great Eternal Will. That, too, is thine - Inheritance; strong, beautiful, divine, -Sure lever of success for one who tries. - -Pry up thy faults with this great lever, Will. - However deeply bedded in propensity, -However firmly set, I tell thee firmer yet - Is that vast power that comes from Truth's immensity. - -Thou art a part of that strange world, I say. - Its forces lie within thee, stronger far - Than all thy mortal sins and frailties are, -Believe thyself divine, and watch, and pray. - -There is no noble height thou canst not climb. - All triumphs may be thine in Time's futurity, -If whatso'er thy fault, thou dost not faint or halt, - But lean upon the staff of God's security. - -Earth has no claim the soul can not contest. - Know thyself part of that Eternal Source, - And naught can stand before thy spirit's force. -The soul's divine inheritance is best. - - - -INSIGHT - - - -On the river of life, as I float along, - I see with the spirit's sight -That many a nauseous weed of wrong - Has root in a seed of right. -For evil is good that has gone astray, - And sorrow is only blindness, -And the world is always under the sway - Of a changeless law of kindness. - -The commonest error a truth can make - Is shouting its sweet voice hoarse, -And sin is only the soul's mistake - In misdirecting its force. -And love, the fairest of all fair things - That ever to man descended, -Grows rank with nettles and poisonous things - Unless it is watched and tended. - -There could not be anything better than this - Old world in the way it began; -And though some matters have gone amiss - From the great original plan, -And however dark the skies may appear, - And however souls may blunder, -I tell you it all will work out clear, - For good lies over and under. - - - -A WOMAN'S LOVE - - - -So vast the tide of love within me surging, - It overflows like some stupendous sea, - The confines of the Present and To-be; -And 'gainst the Past's high wall I feel it urging, - As it would cry, "Thou, too, shalt yield to me!" - -All other loves my supreme love embodies; - I would be she on whose soft bosom nursed - Thy clinging infant lips to quench their thirst; -She who trod close to hidden worlds where God is, - That she might have, and hold, and see thee first. - -I would be she who stirred the vague, fond fancies - Of thy still childish heart; who through bright days - Went sporting with thee in the old-time plays, -And caught the sunlight of thy boyish glances - In half-forgotten and long-buried Mays. - -Forth to the end, and back to the beginning, - My love would send its inundating tide, - Wherein all landmarks of thy past should hide. -If thy life's lesson MUST be learned through sinning, - My grieving virtue would become thy guide. - -For I would share the burden of thy errors, - So when the sun of our brief life had set, - If thou didst walk in darkness and regret, -E'en in that shadowy world of nameless terrors, - My soul and thine should be companions yet. - -And I would cross with thee those troubled oceans - Of dark remorse whose waters are despair: - All things my jealous, reckless love would dare, -So that thou mightst not recollect emotions - In which it did not have a part and share. - -There is no limit to my love's full measure, - It's spirit-gold is shaped by earth's alloy; - I would be friend and mother, mate and toy, -I'd have thee look to me for every pleasure, - And in me find all memories of joy. - -Yet though I love thee in such selfish fashion, - I would wait on thee, sitting at thy feet, - And serving thee, if thou didst deem it meet. -And couldst thou give me one fond hour of passion, - I'd take that hour and call my life complete. - - - -THE PAEAN OF PEACE - - - -With ever some wrong to be righting, - With self ever seeking for place, -The world has been striving and fighting - Since man was evolved out of space. -Bold history into dark regions - His torchlight has fearlessly cast, -He shows us tribes warring in legions, - In jungles of ages long passed. - -Religion, forgetting her station, - Forgetting her birthright from God, -Set nation to warring with nation - And scattered dissension abroad. -Dear creeds have made men kill each other, - Fair faith has bred hate and despair, -And brother has battled with brother - Because of a difference in prayer. - -But earth has grown wiser and kinder, - For man is evolving a soul: -From wars of an age that was blinder, - We rise to a peace-girdled goal. -Where once men would murder in treason - And slaughter each other in hordes, -They now meet together and reason, - With thoughts for their weapons, not swords. - -The brute in humanity dwindles - And lessens as time speeds along, -And the spark of Divinity kindles - And blazes up brightly and strong. -The seer can behold in the distance - The race that shall people the world - -Strong men of a godlike existence - Unarmed, and with war banners furled. - -No longer the bloodthirsty savage - Man's vast spirit strength shall unfold; -And tales of red warfare and ravage - Shall seem like ghost stories of old. -For the booming of guns and the rattle - Of carnage and conflict shall cease, -And the bugle-call, leading to battle, - Shall change to a paean of peace. - - - -"HAS BEEN" - - - -That melancholy phrase "It might have been," - However sad, doth in its heart enfold - A hidden germ of promise! for I hold -WHATEVER MIGHT HAVE BEEN SHALL BE. - Though in -Some other realm and life, the soul must win - The goal that erst was possible. But cold - And cruel as the sound of frozen mould -Dropped on a coffin, are the words "Has been." - -"She has been beautiful"--"he has been great," - "Rome has been powerful," we sigh and say. - It is the pitying crust we toss decay, -The dirge we breathe o'er some degenerate state, -An epitaph for fame's unburied dead. -God pity those who live to hear it said! - - - -DUTY'S PATH - - - -Out from the harbour of youth's bay - There leads the path of pleasure; -With eager steps we walk that way - To brim joy's largest measure. -But when with morn's departing beam - Goes youth's last precious minute, -We sigh "'Twas but a fevered dream - - There's nothing in it." - -Then on our vision dawns afar - The goal of glory, gleaming -Like some great radiant solar star, - And sets us longing, dreaming. -Forgetting all things left behind, - We strain each nerve to win it, -But when 'tis ours--alas! we find - There's nothing in it. - -We turn our sad, reluctant gaze - Upon the path of duty; -Its barren, uninviting ways - Are void of bloom and beauty. -Yet in that road, though dark and cold, - It seems as we begin it, -As we press on--lo! we behold - There's Heaven in it. - - - -MARCH - - - -Like some reformer, who with mien austere, - Neglected dress, and loud insistent tones, - More rasping than the wrongs which she bemoans, -Walks through the land and wearies all who hear, - While yet we know the need of such reform; - So comes unlovely March, with wind and storm, -To break the spell of winter, and set free - The poisoned brooks and crocus beds oppressed. - Severe of face, gaunt-armed, and wildly dressed, -She is not fair nor beautiful to see. - But merry April and sweet smiling May - Come not till March has first prepared the way. - - - -THE END OF THE SUMMER - - - -The birds laugh loud and long together - When Fashion's followers speed away -At the first cool breath of autumn weather. - Why, this is the time, cry the birds, to stay! -When the deep calm sea and the deep sky over - Both look their passion through sun-kissed space, -As a blue-eyed maid and her blue-eyed lover - Might each gaze into the other's face. - -Oh! this is the time when careful spying - Discovers the secrets Nature knows. -You find when the butterflies plan for flying - (Before the thrush or the blackbird goes), -You see some day by the water's edges - A brilliant border of red and black; -And then off over the hills and hedges - It flutters away on the summer's track. - -The shy little sumacs, in lonely places, - Bowed all summer with dust and heat, -Like clean-clad children with rain-washed faces, - Are dressed in scarlet from head to feet. -And never a flower had the boastful summer, - In all the blossoms that decked her sod, -So royal hued as that later comer - The purple chum of the goldenrod. - -Some chill grey dawn you note with grieving - That the King of Autumn is on his way. -You see, with a sorrowful, slow believing, - How the wanton woods have gone astray. -They wear the stain of bold caresses, - Of riotous revels with old King Frost; -They dazzle all eyes with their gorgeous dresses, - Nor care that their green young leaves are lost. - -A wet wind blows from the East one morning, - The wood's gay garments looked draggled out. -You hear a sound, and your heart takes warning - - The birds are planning their winter route. -They wheel and settle and scold and wrangle, - Their tempers are ruffled, their voices loud; -Then whirr--and away in a feathered tangle, - To fade in the south like a passing cloud. - -Envoi - -A songless wood stripped bare of glory - - A sodden moor that is black and brown; -The year has finished its last love-story: - Oh! let us away to the gay bright town. - - - -SUN SHADOWS - - - -There never was success so nobly gained, - Or victory so free from selfish dross, -But in the winning some one had been pained - Or some one suffered loss. - -There never was so nobly planned a fete, - Or festal throng with hearts on pleasure bent, -But some neglected one outside the gate - Wept tears of discontent. - -There never was a bridal morning fair - With hope's blue skies and love's unclouded sun -For two fond hearts, that did not bring despair - To some sad other one. - - - -"HE THAT LOOKETH" - - - -Yea, she and I have broken God's command, - And in His sight are branded with our shame. - And yet I do not even know her name, -Nor ever in my life have touched her hand -Or brushed her garments. But I chanced to stand - Beside her in the throng! A sweet, swift flame - Shot from her flesh to mine--and hers the blame -Of willing looks that fed it; aye, that fanned -The glow within me to a hungry fire. - There was an invitation in her eyes. - Had she met mine with coldness or surprise, -I had not plunged on headlong in the mire -Of amorous thought. The flame leaped high and higher; - Her breath and mine pulsated into sighs, - And soft glance melted into glance kiss-wise, -And in God's sight both yielded to desire. - - - -AN ERRING WOMAN'S LOVE - - - -PART I - -She was a light and wanton maid: -Not one whom fickle Love betrayed, -For indolence was her undoer. -Fair, frivolous, and very poor, -She scorned the thought of toil, in youth, -And chose the path that leads from truth. - -More women fall from want of gold -Than love leads wrong, if truth were told; -More women sin for gay attire -Than sin through passion's blinding fire. -Her god was gold: and gold she saw -Prove mightier than the sternest law -With judge and jury, priest and king; -So, made herself an offering -At Mammon's shrine; and lived for power, -And ease, and pleasures of the hour. - -Who looks beneath life's outer crust -Is satisfied that God is just; -Who looks not under, but about, -Finds much to make him sad with doubt. -For Virtue walks with feet worn bare, -While Sin rides by with coach and pair: -Men praise the modest heart and chaste, -And yet they let it go to waste, -And follow, fierce to have and hold, -Some creature, wanton, selfish, bold. - -She saw but this, life's outer side, -No higher faith was hers to guide; -She worshipped gold, and hated toil, -And hence her youth with all its soil, -With all its sins too dark to name, -Of secret crimes and public shame, -With all its trail of broken lives, -Of ruined homes, neglected wives, -And weeping mothers. Proud and gay -She went her devastating way -With untouched brow and fadeless grace. - -Not time, but feeling, marks the face. -Sin on the outer being tells -Not till the startled soul rebels: -And she felt nothing but content. -She was too light and indolent -To worry over days to come. -This little earth held all life's sum, -She thought, and to be young and fair, -Well clothed, well fed, was all her care. -With pitying eyes and lifted head -She gazed on those who toiled for bread, -And laughed to scorn the talk she heard -Of punishment for those who erred, -And virtue's certain recompense. -She seemed devoid of moral sense, -An ignorant thing whose appetites -Bound her horizon of delights. - -Men were her puppets to control; -Unconscious of a heart or soul -She lived, and gloried in the ease -She purchased by her power to please -The eye and senses. Life's one woe -Which caused her pitying tears to flow -Was poverty. Though hearts might break -And homes be ruined for her sake, -She showed no mercy. But when need -Of gold she saw, her heart would bleed. -The lack of clothing, fire, and food -Was earth's one pain, she understood. - -The suffering poor oft blest her name, -Nor questioned whence the ducats came, -She gave so freely. Once she found -A fainting woman on the ground, -A wailing child clasped to her breast. -With her own hands she bathed and dressed -The weary waifs! gave food and gold -And clothed them warmly from the cold, -Nor guessed that one she lured from home -Had caused that suffering pair to roam -Unhoused, neglected. Then one day, -Unheralded across her way, -The conqueror came. She knew not why, -But with the first glance of his eye -A feeling, new and unexplained, -Woke in her what she oft had feigned. -And when his arm stole near her waist, -As startled maidens blush with chaste -Sweet fear at love's advances, so -She blushed from brow to breast of snow. -Strange, new emotions, fraught with joy -And pain commingled, made her coy; -But when he would have clasped her neck -With gems that might a queen bedeck -And offered gold, her lips grew white -With sudden anger at the sight -Of what had been her god for years. -She flung them from her. Then such tears -As only spring from love's despair -Welled from her eyes. "So, lady fair, -My gifts are scorned?" quoth he, and laughed. -"Like Cleopatra, you have quaffed -Such lordly pearls in draughts of wine, -You spurn poor simple gems like mine. -Well, well, fair queen, I'll bring to you -A richer gift next time. Adieu." - -His light words stung like lash of whip; -With gasping breath and ashen lip -She strove to speak, but he was gone -She kneeled and pressed her mouth upon -The latch his hand had touched, the floor -His foot had trod, and o'er and o'er -She sobbed his name, as children moan -A mother's name when left alone. - -Out from the dim and roseate gloom -And subtle odours of her room -Accusing memories rose. She felt -A loneliness that seemed to belt -The universe in its embrace. -It was as if from some high place -A giant hand had reached and hurled -To nothingness her petty world, -And left her staring, awed, alone, -Up into regions vast, unknown. -There is no other loneliness -That can so sadden and oppress -As when beside the burned-out fire -Of sated passion and desire -The wakening spirit, in a glance, -Beholds its lost inheritance. -She rose and turned the dim lights higher, -Brought forth rich gems and grand attire, -And robed herself in feverish haste; -Before the mirror posed and paced, -With jewels on her breast and wrists; -Then sudden clenched her little fists -And beat her face until it bled, -And tore her garments shred from shred, -Gazed in the mirror, spoke her name -And hissed a word that told her shame, -Then on her knees fell sobbing there. - -There are sweet messengers of prayer -Who down through space on soft wings steal, -And offer aid to all who kneel. -Her lips, unused to pious phrase, -Recalled some words of bygone days, -And "Now I lay me down to sleep, -I pray the Lord my soul to keep," -She whispered timidly, and then, -"Lord, let me be a child again -And grow up good." The strange prayer said, -Like some o'er-weary child, her head -She pillowed on her arm, and wept -Low, shuddering sobs, until she slept -And dreamed; and in that dream she thought -She sat within a vine-wreathed cot; -An infant slumbered on her breast, -She crooned a lullaby, and pressed -Its waxen hand against her cheek, -While one, too proud and fond to speak, -The happy father of the child, -Stood near, and gazing on them, smiled. - -She woke while still the lullaby -Was on her lips--then such a cry, -As souls in fabled realms below -Might utter, voiced her awful woe. - -The mighty moral labour-pain -Of new-born conscience wracked her brain -And tore her soul. She understood -The meaning now of womanhood, -And chastity, and o'er her came -The full, dark sense of all her shame. -As some poor drunken wretch, at night, -Wakes up to know his piteous plight, -And sees, while sinking in the mire, -Afar, his waiting hearth-light's fire; -So now she saw from depths of sin -The hearth-light of the might-have-been. -How beautiful, how like a star -That lost light shone, but ah, how far! - -She reached her longing arms toward space, -And lifted up her tear-wet face. -"O God," she wailed, "I have been bad! -I see it all, and I am sad, -And long to be a good girl now. -Lord, Lord, will some one show me how? -Why, men have trod the burning track -Of sin for years, and then gone back! -And cannot I for sin atone, -Or did Christ die for men alone? -I want to lead an honest life, -I want to be his own true wife -And hold upon my breast his child." -Then suddenly her voice grew wild, -"No, no," she cried, "it could not be - -Those infant eyes would torture me: -Though God condoned my sinful ways, -I could not meet my child's pure gaze." - -She hid her face upon her knees, -And swayed as reeds sway in a breeze. -"O Christ," she moaned, "could I forget, -There might be something for me yet: -But though both God and man forgave, -And I should win the love I crave, -Why, memory would drive me mad." - -When woman drifts from good to bad, -To make her final fall complete, -She puts her soul beneath her feet. -Man's dual selves seem separate; -He leaves his soul outside sin's gate, -And finds it waiting when he tires -Of carnal pleasures and desires, -Depleted, sickened, and depressed, -As souls must be with such a test, -Yet strong enough to help him grope -Back into happiness and hope. -But woman, far more complicate, -Can take no chances with her fate; -A subtle creature, finely spun, -Her body and her soul are one. -And now this erring woman wept -The soul she murdered while it slept. -She felt too stunned with pain to think. -She seemed to stand upon a brink; -Behind her loomed the sinful past, -Below her, rocks, beyond her, vast -And awful darkness. Not one ray -Of sun or star to show the way! -She drew a long and shuddering breath; -"There is no other path but death -For me to tread," she sighed, "and so -I will prepare my house and go." - -As housewives move with willing feet -And skilful hands to make things neat -And ready for some welcome one, -She toiled until her tasks were done. -Then, seated at her desk, she wrote, -With painful care, a tear-wet note. -The childish penmanship was rude, -Ill spelled the words, the phrasing crude; -Yet thought and feeling both were there, -And mighty love and great despair. -"Dear heart," it ran, "you did not know -How, from the first, I loved you so, -That sin grew hateful in my sight; -And so I leave it all to-night. -The kiss I gave, dear heart, to you -Was love's first kiss, as pure and true -As ever lips of maiden gave. -I think 'twill warm my lonely grave, -And light the pathway I must tread -Among the hapless, homeless dead. - -"When God formed worlds, He failed to make -A path for erring feet to take -Back into light and peace again, -Unless they were the feet of men. -When woman errs, and then regrets, -Her sun of hope for ever sets, -And life is hung with deepest gloom. -In all the world there is no room -For such as she; and so I hold -That death itself is not so cold -As life has seemed, since by love's light -I saw there was a wrong and right, -And that my birthright had been sold, -By my own hands, for tarnished gold. -I hated labour, hence I fell; -But now I love you, dear, so well, -No greater boon my soul could crave -Than just to toil, a galley-slave, -Through burdened years and years of life, -If at the last you called me wife -For one supreme and honoured hour. -Alas! too late I learn love's power, -Too late I realise my loss, -And have no strength to bear my cross -Of loneliness and dark disgrace. -There cannot be another place -So desolate, so full of fear, -As earth to me, without you, dear. - -"You will not understand, I know, -How one like me can love you so. -It was a strange, strange thing. Love came -So like a swift, devouring flame -And burned my frail, fair-weather boat -And left me on the waves afloat, -With nothing but a broken spar. -The distant shores seem very far; -I cannot reach them, so I sink. -God will forgive my sins, I think, -Because I die for love, like One -The good Book tells about, His Son. - -"For erring woman death can bring -No pain so keen as memory's sting. -Good-night, good-bye. God bless you, dear, -And give you love, and joy, and cheer! -But sometimes, in the dark night, say -A prayer for one who went astray, -And found no pathway back, and died -For love of you--a suicide." - -When morn his glorious pinions spread, -They found the erring woman, dead. - - -PART II - - -She woke as one wakes from a deep -And dreamless, yet exhausting, sleep. - -A strange confusion filled her mind, -And sorrows vague and undefined, - -Like half-remembered faces pressed -To memory's window, in her breast, - -Gazed at her with reproachful eyes. -She felt a sudden, dazed surprise, - -Commingled with a sense of dread, -"I did but sleep--I am not dead, - -"The potion and the purpose failed, -And I still live," she wildly wailed. - -"Nay, thou art dead, rash suicide," -A sad voice spake: and at her side - -She saw a weird and shadowy crowd -With anguished lips, and shoulders bowed, - -And orbs that seemed the wells of woe. -She shrieked and veiled her eyes. "No, no! - -"I am not dead! I ache with life. -An earthly passion's hopeless strife - -"Still tortures me." "Yet thou art dead," -The voice with sad insistence said. - -"But love and sorrow and regret -All die with death. _I_ feel them yet." - -"God bade thee live, and only He -Can say when thou shalt cease to be." - -"But I was sin-sick, sad, alone - -I thought by death I could atone, - -"And died that Christ might show me how." -"Christ bore His burden, why not thou?" - -"Oh! lead me to His holy feet -And let my penance be complete." - -"What! thinkest thou to find that path - -Thou who hast tempted Heaven's wrath - -"By thy rash deed? Nay, nay, not so, -'Tis but perfected spirits go - -"To that supreme and final goal. -A self-sought death delays the soul. - -"With yonder shuddering, woeful throng -Of suicides thy ways belong. - -"Close to the earth a shadowy band, -Unseen, but seeing all, they stand - -"Until their natural time to die, -As God intended, shall draw nigh. - -"On earth, repentant, sick of sin, -A ministering angel thou hadst been - -"Whose patient toil and deeds divine -Had rescued souls as sad as thine, - -"Each deed a firm ascending stair -To lead beyond thy great despair. - -"But now it is thy mournful fate -To linger here and meditate - -"On thy dark past--to stand so near -The earthly plane that thou canst hear - -"Thy lover's voice, while old desire -Shall burn within thee like a fire, - -"And grief shall root thee to the spot -To find how soon thou art forgot. - -"But since thou hast endured the woes -That only fragile woman knows, - -"And loved as only woman can, -Thou shalt not suffer all that man - -"Must suffer when he interferes -With God's great law. In death's dim spheres - -"That justice waits, which men refuse. -Thy sex shall in some part excuse - -"Thy desperate deed. When God shall send -A second death to be thy friend, - -"Thou need'st not fear a darker fate - -Go forth with yonder throng, and wait." - - - -A SONG OF REPUBLICS - - - -Fair Freedom's ship, too long adrift - - Of every wind the sport - -Now rigged and manned, her course well planned, - Sails proudly out of port; -And fluttering gaily from the mast - This motto is unfurled, -Let all men heed its truth who read: - "Republics rule the World!" - -The universe is high as God! - Good is the final goal; -The world revolves and man evolves - A purpose and a soul. -No church can bind, no crown forbid - Thought's mighty upward course - -Let kings give way before its sway, - For God inspires its force. - -The hero of a vanished age - Was one who bathed in gore; -Who best could fight was noblest knight - In savage days of yore; -Now warrior chiefs are out of date, - The times have changed. To-day -We call men great who arbitrate - And keep war's hounds at bay. - -The world no longer looks to priest - Or prince to know its needs; -Earth's human throng has grown too strong - To rule with courts and creeds. -We want no kings but kings of toil - - No crowns but crowns of deeds; -Not royal birth but sterling worth - Must mark the man who leads. - -Proud monarchies are out of step - With modern thought to-day, -For Brotherhood is understood, - And thrones may pass away. -Men dare to think. Concerted thought - Contains more power than swords: -The force that binds united minds - Defeats mere savage hordes. - -Man needs no arbitrary hand - To keep him in control; -He feels the power grow hour by hour - Of his expanding soul: -In God's stupendous scheme of worlds - He knows he has a place; -He is no slave to cringe, and crave - Some worthless monarch's grace. - -As ocean billows undermine - The haughty shores each hour, -Time's sea has brought its waves of thought - To crumble thrones of power; -And one by one shall kingdoms fall - Like leaves before the blast, -As man with man combines to plan - Republics formed to last. - -Columbia baulked a tyrant king, - And built upon a rock, -In Freedom's name, a shrine whose fame - Outlived the century's shock. -Now France within our port has set - Her symbol of re-birth; -Her lifted hand tells sea and land - Republics light the earth. - -One mighty church for all the world - Would make men far more kind; -One government would bring content - To many a restless mind. -Sail on, fair ship of Freedom, sail - The wide sea's breadth and length. -'Till worlds unite to make the might - Of "One Republic's" strength. - - - -MEMORIAL DAY--1892 - - - -The quiet graves of our country's braves - Through thirty Junes and Decembers -Have solemnly lain under sun and rain, - And yet the Nation remembers. - -The marching of feet and the flags on the street - Told once again this morning, -In the voice of the drum how the day had come - For those lowly beds' adorning. - -Then swiftly back on Time's worn track - His three decades seemed driven, -And with startled eyes I saw arise, - From graves by fancy riven, - -The Gray and Blue in a grand review. - Oh! vast were the hosts they numbered, -As they wheeled and swayed in a dress parade - O'er the graves where they long had slumbered. - -The colours were not, as when they fought, - Ranked one against the other, -But a mingled hue of gray and blue, - As brother marching with brother. - -And a blue flower lay on each coat of gray, - Like forget-me-nots on a boulder; -And the gray moss lace in its Southern grace - Was knotted on each blue shoulder. - -The vision fled; but I think our dead, - If they could come back with the living, -Would clasp warm hands o'er hostile lands, - Forgetting old wrongs and forgiving. - -'Mong the blossoms of Spring that you gather and bring - To graves that though lowly are royal, -Let the blue flower prevail, though modest and pale, - Since it speaks of the hue that was loyal. - -But tie each bouquet with a ribbon of gray - And lay it on memory's altar, -For the dead who fought for the cause they thought - Was right, and who did not falter. - - - -WHEN BABY SOULS SAIL OUT - - - -When from our mortal vision - Grown men and women go -To sail strange fields Elysian - And know what spirits know, -I think of them as tourists, - In some sun-gilded clime, -'Mong happy sights and dear delights - We all shall find, in time. - -But when a child goes yonder - And leaves its mother here, -Its little feet must wander, - It seems to me, in fear. -What paths of Eden beauty, - What scenes of peace and rest, -Can bring content to one who went - Forth from a mother's breast? - -In palace gardens, lonely, - A little child will roam -And weep for pleasures only - Found in its humble home. -It is not won by splendour, - Nor bought by costly toys; -To hide from harm on mother's arm - Makes all its sum of joys. - -It must be when the baby - Goes journeying off alone, -Some angel (Mary, may be) - Adopts it for her own. -Yet when a child is taken - Whose mother stays below, -With weeping eyes, through Paradise, - I seem to see it go. - -With troops of angels trying - To drive away its fear, -I seem to hear it crying, - "I want my mamma here." -I do not court the fancy, - It is not based on doubt, -It is a thought that comes unsought - When baby souls sail out. - - - -TO ANOTHER WOMAN'S BABY - - - -I list your prattle, baby boy, - And hear your pattering feet -With feelings more of pain than joy - And thoughts of bitter-sweet. - -While touching your soft hands in play - Such passionate longings rise -For my wee boy who strayed away - So soon to Paradise. - -You win me with your infant art; - But when our play is o'er, -The empty cradle in my heart - Seems lonelier than before. - -Sweet baby boy, you do not guess - How oft mine eyes are dim, -Or that my lingering caress - Is sometimes meant for HIM. - - - -DIAMONDS - - - -The tears of fallen women turned to ice -By man's cold pity for repentant vice. - - - -RUBIES - - - - -The crimson life-drops from a virgin heart -Pierced to the core by Cupid's fatal dart. - - - -SAPPHIRES - - - -Lost rays of light that wandered off alone - And down through space were hurled -From that great sapphire sun beyond our own - Pale, puny little world. - - - -TURQUOISE - - - -A baby went to heaven while it slept, - And, waking, missed its mother's arms, and wept. -Those angel tear-drops, falling earthward through - God's azure skies, into the turquoise grew. - - - -REFORM - - - -The time has come when men with hearts and brains -Must rise and take the misdirected reins -Of government; too long left in the hands -Of aliens and of lackeys. He who stands -And sees the mighty vehicle of State -Hauled through the mire to some ignoble fate -And makes not such bold protest as he can, - Is no American, - - - -A MINOR CHORD - - - -I heard a strain of music in the street - - A wandering waif of sound. And then straightway - A nameless desolation filled the day. -The great green earth that had been fair and sweet, -Seemed but a tomb; the life I thought replete - With joy, grew lonely for a vanished May. - Forgotten sorrows resurrected lay -Like bleaching skeletons about my feet. - -Above me stretched the silent, suffering sky, - Dumb with vast anguish for departed suns - That brutal Time to nothingness has hurled. -The daylight was as sad as smiles that lie - Upon the wistful, unkissed mouths of nuns, - And I stood prisoned in an awful world. - - - -DEATH'S PROTEST - - - -Why dost thou shrink from my approach, O Man? -Why dost thou ever flee in fear, and cling -To my false rival, Life? I do but bring -Thee rest and calm. Then wherefore dost thou ban -And curse me? Since the forming of God's plan - I have not hurt or harmed a mortal thing, - I have bestowed sweet balm for every sting, -And peace eternal for earth's stormy span. - -The wild mad prayers for comfort sent in vain - To knock at the indifferent heart of Life, - I, Death, have answered. Knowest thou not 'tis he, -My cruel rival, who sends all thy pain - And wears the soul out in unending strife? - Why dost thou hold to him, then, spurning me? - - - -SEPTEMBER - - - -My life's long radiant Summer halts at last, -And lo! beside my path way I behold -Pursuing Autumn glide: nor frost nor cold -Has heralded her presence; but a vast -Sweet calm that comes not till the year has passed - Its fevered solstice, and a tinge of gold - Subdues the vivid colouring of bold -And passion-hued emotions. I will cast - -My August days behind me with my May, - Nor strive to drag them into Autumn's place, - Nor swear I hope when I do but remember. -Now violet and rose have had their day, - I'll pluck the soberer asters with good grace - And call September nothing but September. - - - -WAIL OF AN OLD-TIMER - - - -Each new invention doubles our worries an' our troubles, - These scientific fellows are spoilin' of our land; -With motor, wire, an' cable, now'-days we're scarcely able - To walk or ride in peace o' mind, an' 'tisn't safe to stand. - -It fairly makes me crazy to see how tarnal lazy - The risin' generation grows--an' science is to blame. -With telephones for talkin', an' messengers for walkin', - Our young men sit an' loaf an' smoke, without a blush o' shame. - -An' then they wer'n't contented until some one invented - A sort o' jerky tape-line clock, to help on wasteful ways. -An' that infernal ticker spends money fur 'em quicker - Than any neighbourhood o' men in good old bygone days. - -The risin' generation is bent so on creation, - Folks haven't time to talk or sing or cry or even laugh. -But if you take the notion to want some such emotion, - They've got it all on tap fur you, right in the phonograph. - -But now a crazy creature has introduced the feature - Of artificial weather, I think we're nearly through. -For when we once go strainin' to keep it dry or rainin' - To suit the general public, 'twill bust the world in two, - - - -WAS, IS, AND YET-TO-BE - - - - -Was, Is, and Yet-to-Be -Were chatting over a cup of tea. - -In tarnished finery smelling of must, -Was talked of people long turned to dust; - -Of titles and honours and high estate, -All forgotten or out of date; - -Of wonderful feasts in the long ago, -Of pride that perished with nothing to show. - -"I loathe the present," said Was, with a groan; -"I live in pleasures that I HAVE known." - -The Yet-to-be, in a gown of gauze, -Looked over the head of musty Was, - -And gazed far off into misty space -With a wrapt expression upon her face. - -"Such wonderful pleasures are coming to me, -Such glory, such honour," said Yet-to-be. - -"No one dreamed, in the vast Has-Been, -Of such successes as I shall win. - -"The past, the present--why, what are they? -I live for the joy of a future day." - -Then practical Is, in a fresh print dress, -Spoke up with a laugh, "I must confess - -"I find to-day so pleasant," she said, -"I never look back, and seldom ahead. - -"Whatever has been, is a finished sum; -Whatever will be--why, let it come. - -"To-day is mine. And so, you see, -I have the past and the yet-to-be; - -"For to-day is the future of yesterday, -And the past of to-morrow. I live while I may, - -"And I think the secret of pleasure is this. -And this alone," said practical Is. - - - -MISTAKES - - - -God sent us here to make mistakes, - To strive, to fail, to re-begin, - To taste the tempting fruit of sin, -And find what bitter food it makes, - -To miss the path, to go astray, - To wander blindly in the night; - But, searching, praying for the light, -Until at last we find the way. - -And looking back along the past, - We know we needed all the strain - Of fear and doubt and strife and pain -To make us value peace, at last. - -Who fails, finds later triumph sweet; - Who stumbles once, walks then with care, - And knows the place to cry "Beware" -To other unaccustomed feet. - -Through strife the slumbering soul awakes, - We learn on error's troubled route - The truths we could not prize without -The sorrow of our sad mistakes. - - - -DUAL - - - -You say that your nature is double; that life - Seems more and more intricate, complex, and dual, -Because in your bosom there wages the strife - 'Twixt an angel of light and a beast that is cruel - -An angel who whispers your spirit has wings, -And a beast who would chain you to temporal things. - -I listen with interest to all you have told, - And now let me give you my view of your trouble: -You are to be envied, not pitied; I hold - THAT EVERY STRONG NATURE IS ALWAYS MADE DOUBLE. -The beast has his purpose; he need not be slain: -He should serve the good angel in harness and chain. - -The body that never knows carnal desires, - The heart that to passion is always a stranger, -Is merely a furnace with unlighted fires; - It sends forth no warmth while it threatens no danger. -But who wants to shiver in cold safety there? -TOUCH FLAME TO THE FUEL! then watch it with care. - -Those wild, fierce emotions that trouble your soul - Are sparks from the great source of passion and power; -Throne reason above them, and give it control, - And turn into blessing this dangerous dower. -By lightnings unguided destruction is hurled, -But chained and directed they gladden the world. - - - -THE ALL-CREATIVE SPARK - - - -Pain can go guised as joy, dross pass for gold, - Vulgarity can masquerade as wit, -Or spite wear friendship's garments; but I hold - That passionate feeling has no counterfeit. -Chief jewel from Jove's crown 'twas sent men, lent -For inspiration and for sacrament. - -Jove never could have made the Universe - Had he not glowed with passion's sacred fire; -Though man oft turns the blessing to a curse, - And burns himself on his own funeral pyre, -Though scarred the soul be where its light burns bright, -Yet where it is not, neither is there might. - -Yea, it was set in Jove's resplendent crown - When he created worlds; that done, why, hence, -He cast the priceless, awful jewel down - To be man's punishment and recompense. -And that is how he sees and hears our tears -Unmoved and calm from the eternal spheres. - -But sometimes, since he parted with all passion, - In trifling mood, to pass the time away, -He has created men in that same fashion, - And many women (jesting as gods may), -Who have no souls to be inspired or fired, -Mere sport of idle gods who have grown tired. - -And these poor puppets, gazing in the dark - At their own shadows, think the world no higher; -And when they see the all-creative spark - In other souls, they straightway cry out, "Fire!" -And shriek, and rave, till their dissent is spent, -While listening gods laugh loud in merriment. - - - -BE NOT CONTENT - - - -Be not content--contentment means inaction; - The growing soul aches on its upward quest; -Satiety is twin to satisfaction; - All great achievements spring from life's unrest. - -The tiny roots, deep in the dark mould hiding, - Would never bless the earth with leaf and flower -Were not an inborn restlessness abiding - In seed and germ, to stir them with its power. - -Were man contented with his lot forever, - He had not sought strange seas with sails unfurled, -And the vast wonder of our shores had never - Dawned on the gaze of an admiring world. - -Prize what is yours, but be not quite contented. - There is a healthful restlessness of soul -By which a mighty purpose is augmented - In urging men to reach a higher goal. - -So when the restless impulse rises, driving - Your calm content before it, do not grieve; -It is the upward reaching of the spirit - Of the God in you to achieve--achieve. - - - -ACTION - - - -For ever stars are winging - Their swift and endless race; -For ever suns are swinging - Their mighty globes through space. -Since by his law required -To join God's spheres inspired, -The earth has never tired, - But whirled and whirled and whirled. -For ever streams are flowing, -For ever seeds are growing, -Alway is Nature showing - That Action rules the world. - -And since by God requested - To BE, the glorious light -Has never paused or rested, - But travelled day and night. -Yet pigmy man, unseeing -The purpose of his being, -Demands escape and freeing - From universal force. -But law is law for ever, -And like a mighty lever -It thrusts him tow'rd endeavour, - And speeds him on his course. - - - -TWO ROSES - - - -A humble wild-rose, pink and slender, - Was plucked and placed in a bright bouquet, -Beside a Jacqueminot's royal splendour, - And both in my lady's boudoir lay. - -Said the haughty bud, in a tone of scorning, - "I wonder why you are called a rose? -Your leaves will fade in a single morning; - No blood of mine in your pale cheek glows. - -"Your coarse green stalk shows dust of the highway, - You have no depths of fragrant bloom; -And what could you learn in a rustic byway - To fit you to lie in my lady's room? - -"If called to adorn her warm, white bosom, - What have you to offer for such a place, -Beside my fragrant and splendid blossom, - Ripe with colour and rich with grace?" - -Said the sweet wild-rose, "Despite your dower - Of finer breeding and deeper hue, -Despite your beauty, fair, high-bred flower, - It is I who should lie on her breast, not you. - -"For small account is your hot-house glory - Beside the knowledge that came to me -When I heard by the wayside love's old story - And felt the kiss of the amorous bee." - - - -SATIETY - - - -To yearn for what we have not had, to sit - With hungry eyes glued on the Future's gate, -Why, that is heaven compared to having it - With all the power gone to appreciate. - -Better to wait and yearn, and still to wait, - And die at last with unappeased desire, -Than live to be the jest of such a fate, - For that is my conception of hell-fire. - - - -A SOLAR ECLIPSE - - - -In that great journey of the stars through space - About the mighty, all-directing Sun, -The pallid, faithful Moon has been the one -Companion of the Earth. Her tender face, -Pale with the swift, keen purpose of that race - Which at Time's natal hour was first begun, - Shines ever on her lover as they run -And lights his orbit with her silvery smile. - -Sometimes such passionate love doth in her rise, - Down from her beaten path she softly slips, -And with her mantle veils the Sun's bold eyes, - Then in the gloaming finds her lover's lips. -While far and near the men our world call wise - See only that the Sun is in eclipse. - - - -A SUGGESTION -To C. A. D. - - - -Let the wild red-rose bloom. Though not to thee - So delicately perfect as the white - And unwed lily drooping in the light, -Though she has known the kisses of the bee - And tells her amorous tale to passers-by -In perfumed whispers and with untaught grace, -Still let the red-rose bloom in her own place; - She could not be the lily should she try. - -Why to the wondrous nightingale cry hush - Or bid her cease her wild heart-breaking lay, - And tune her voice to imitate the way -The whip-poor-will makes music, or the thrush? - All airs of sorrow to one theme belong, -And passion is not copyrighted yet. -Each heart writes its own music. Why not let - The nightingale unchided sing her song? - - - -THE DEPTHS - - - -Not only sun-kissed heights are fair. Below -The cold, dark billows of the frowning deep -Do lovely blossoms of the ocean sleep, -Rocked gently by the waters to and fro. -The coral beds with magic colours glow, - And priceless pearl-encrusted molluscs heap - The glittering rocks where shining atoms leap -Like living broken rainbows. - - Even so -We find the sea of sorrow. Black as night - The sullen surface meets our frightened gaze, - As down we sink to darkness and despair. -But at the depths--such beauty! such delight! - Such flowers as never grew in pleasure's ways! - Ah! not alone are sun-kissed summits fair. - - - -LIFE'S OPERA - - - -Like an opera-house is the world, I ween, -Where the passionate lover of music is seen - In the balcony near the roof: -While the very best seat in the first stage-box -Is filled by the person who laughs and talks - Through the harmony's warp and woof. - - - -THE SALT SEA-WIND - - - -When Venus, mother and maker of blisses, - Rose out of the billows, large-limbed, and fair, -She stood on the sands and blew sweet kisses - To the salt sea-wind as she dried her hair. - -And the salt sea-wind was the first to caress her - To praise her beauty and call her sweet, -The first of the whole wide world to possess her, - She, that creature of light and heat. - -Though the sea is old with its sorrows and angers, - And the world has forgotten why love was born, -Yet the salt sea-wind is full of the languors - That Venus taught on her natal morn. - -And now whoever dwells there by the ocean, - And feels the wind on his hair and face, -Is stirred by a subtle and keen emotion, - The lingering spell of that first embrace. - - - -NEW YEAR - - - -New Year, I look straight in your eyes - - Our ways and our interests blend; -You may be a foe in disguise, - But I shall believe you a friend. -We get what we give in our measure, -We cannot give pain and get pleasure; -I give you good will and good cheer, -And you must return it, New Year. - -We get what we give in this life, - Though often the giver indeed -Waits long upon doubting and strife - Ere proving the truth of my creed. -But somewhere, some way, and for ever -Reward is the meed of endeavour; -And if I am really worth while, -New Year, you will give me your smile. - -You hide in your mystical hand - No "luck" that I cannot control, -If I trust my own courage and stand - On the Infinite strength of my soul. -Man holds in his brain and his spirit -A power that is God-like, or near it, -And he who has measured his force -Can govern events and their course. - -You come with a crown on your brow, - New Year, without blemish or spot; -Yet you, and not I, sir, must bow, - For time is the servant of thought -Whatever you bring me of trouble -Shall turn into good, and then double, -If my spirit looks up without fear -To the Source that you came from, New Year. - - - -CONCENTRATION - - - -The age is too diffusive. Time and Force - Are frittered out and bring no satisfaction. - The way seems lost to straight determined action. - Like shooting stars that zig-zag from their course - We wander from our orbit's pathway; spoil -The role we're fitted for, to fail in twenty. -Bring empty measures, that were shaped for plenty, - At last as guerdon for a life of toil. -There's lack of greatness in this generation - Because no more man centres on one thought. - We know this truth, and yet we heed it not: -The secret of success is Concentration. - - - -THOUGHTS - - - -Thoughts do not need the wings of words - To fly to any goal. -Like subtle lightnings, not like birds, - They speed from soul to soul. - -Hide in your heart a bitter thought - - Still it has power to blight; -Think Love--although you speak it not - It gives the world more light. - - - -LUCK - - - -Luck is the tuning of our inmost thought - To chord with God's great plan. - That done, ah! know, -Thy silent wishes to results shall grow, -And day by day shall miracles be wrought. -Once let thy being selflessly be brought - To chime with universal good, and lo! - What music from the spheres shall through thee flow! -What benefits shall come to thee unsought! - -Shut out the noise of traffic! Rise above - The body's clamour! With the soul's fine ear - Attune thyself to harmonies divine - -All, all are written in the key of Love. - Keep to the score, and thou hast naught to fear; - Achievements yet undreamed of shall be thine. - - - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, POEMS OF SENTIMENT *** - -This file should be named psen10.txt or psen10.zip -Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, psen11.txt -VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, psen10a.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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