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diff --git a/old/ppur10.txt b/old/ppur10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..901ccc1 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/ppur10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2686 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Poems of Purpose, by Ella Wheeler Wilcox +(#10 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 Purpose + +Author: Ella Wheeler Wilcox + +Release Date: October, 2004 [EBook #6618] +[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 PURPOSE *** + + + + +Transcribed from the 1919 Gay and Hancock edition by David Price, email +ccx074@coventry.ac.uk + + + + +POEMS OF PURPOSE + + + + +Contents: + A Good Sport + A Son Speaks + The Younger Born + Happiness + Seeking for Happiness + The Island of Endless Play + The River of Sleep + The Things that Count + Limitless + What They Saw + The Convention + Protest + A Bachelor to a Married Flirt + The Superwoman + Certitude + Compassion + Love + Three Souls + When Love is Lost + Occupation + The Valley of Fear + What would it be? + America + War Mothers + A Holiday + The Undertone + Gypsying + Song of the Road + The Faith we Need + The Price he Paid + Divorced + The Revealing Angels + The Well-born + Sisters of Mine + Answer + The Graduates + The Silent Tragedy + The Trinity + The Unwed Mother to the Wife + Father and Son + Husks + Meditations + The Traveller + What Have You Done? + + + +A GOOD SPORT + + + +I was a little lad, and the older boys called to me from the pier: +They called to me: 'Be a sport: be a sport! Leap in and swim!' +I leaped in and swam, though I had never been taught a stroke. +Then I was made a hero, and they all shouted: + 'Well done! Well done, +Brave boy, you are a sport, a good sport!' +And I was very glad. + +But now I wish I had learned to swim the right way, + Or had never learned at all. +Now I regret that day, + For it led to my fall. + +I was a youth, and I heard the older men talking of the road to wealth; +They talked of bulls and bears, of buying on margins, +And they said, 'Be a sport, my boy, plunge in and win or lose it all! +It is the only way to fortune.' +So I plunged in and won; and the older men patted me on the back, +And they said, 'You are a sport, my boy, a good sport!' +And I was very glad. + +But now I wish I had lost all I ventured on that day - + Yes, wish I had lost it all. +For it was the wrong way, + And pushed me to my fall. + +I was a young man, and the gay world called me to come; +Gay women and gay men called to me, crying: + 'Be a sport; be a good sport! +Fill our glasses and let us fill yours. +We are young but once; let us dance and sing, +And drive the dull hours of night until they stand at bay +Against the shining bayonets of day.' +So I filled my glass, and I filled their glasses, over and over again, +And I sang and danced and drank, and drank and danced and sang, +And I heard them cry, 'He is a sport, a good sport!' +As they held their glasses out to be filled again. +And I was very glad. + +Oh the madness of youth and song and dance and wine, +Of woman's eyes and lips, when the night dies in the arms of dawn! +And now I wish I had not gone that way. +Now I wish I had not heard them say, +'He is a sport, a good sport!' +For I am old who should be young. +The splendid vigour of my youth I flung +Under the feet of a mad, unthinking throng. +My strength went out with wine and dance and song; +Unto the winds of earth I tossed like chaff, +With idle jest and laugh, +The pride of splendid manhood, all its wealth +Of unused power and health - +Its dream of looking into some pure girl's eyes +And finding there its earthly paradise - +Its hope of virile children free from blight - +Its thoughts of climbing to some noble height +Of great achievement--all these gifts divine +I cast away for song and dance and wine. +Oh, I have been a sport, a good sport; +But I am very sad. + + + +A SON SPEAKS + + + +Mother, sit down, for I have much to say +Anent this widespread ever-growing theme +Of woman and her virtues and her rights. + +I left you for the large, loud world of men, +When I had lived one little score of years. +I judged all women by you, and my heart +Was filled with high esteem and reverence +For your angelic sex; and for the wives, +The sisters, daughters, mothers of my friends +I held but holy thoughts. To fallen stars +(Of whom you told me in our last sweet talk, +Warning me of the dangers in my path) +I gave wide pity as you bade me to, +Saying their sins harked back to my base sex. + +Now listen, mother mine: Ten years have passed +Since that clean-minded and pure-bodied youth, +Thinking to write his name upon the stars, +Went from your presence. He returns to you +Fallen from his altitude of thought, +Hiding deep scars of sins upon his soul, +His fair illusions shattered and destroyed. +And would you know the story of his fall? + +He sat beside a good man's honoured wife +At her own table. She was beautiful +As woods in early autumn. Full of soft +And subtle witcheries of voice and look - +His senior, both in knowledge and in years. + +The boyish admiration of his glance +Was white as April sunlight when it falls +Upon a blooming tree, until she leaned +So close her rounded body sent quick thrills +Along his nerves. He thought it accident, +And moved a little; soon she leaned again. +The half-hid beauties of her heaving breast +Rising and falling under scented lace, +The teasing tendrils of her fragrant hair, +With intermittent touches on his cheek, +Changed the boy's interest to a man's desire. +She saw that first young madness in his eyes +And smiled and fanned the flame. That was his fall; +And as some mangled fly may crawl away +And leave his wings behind him in the web, +So were his wings of faith in womanhood +Left in the meshes of her sensuous net. + +The youth, forced into sudden manhood, went +Seeking the lost ideal of his dreams. +He met, in churches and in drawing-rooms, +Women who wore the mask of innocence +And basked in public favour, yet who seemed +To find their pleasure playing with men's hearts, +As children play with loaded guns. He heard +(Until the tale fell dull upon his ears) +The unsolicited complaints of wives +And mothers all unsatisfied with life, +While crowned with every blessing earth can give +Longing for God knows what to bring content, +And openly or with appealing look +Asking for sympathy. (The first blind step +That leads from wifely honour down to shame, +Is ofttimes hid with flowers of sympathy.) + +He saw proud women who would flush and pale +With sense of outraged modesty if one +Spoke of the ancient sin before them, bare +To all men's sight, or flimsily conceal +By veils that bid adventurous eyes proceed, +Charms meant alone for lover and for child. +He saw chaste virgins tempt and tantalise, +Lure and deny, invite--and then refuse, +And drive men forth half crazed to wantons' arms. + +Mother, you taught me there were but two kinds +Of women in the world--the good and bad. +But you have been too sheltered in the safe, +Old-fashioned sweetness of your quiet life, +To know how women of these modern days +Make licence of their new-found liberty. +Why, I have been more tempted and more shocked +By belles and beauties in the social whirl, +By trusted wives and mothers in their homes, +Than by the women of the underworld +Who sell their favours. Do you think me mad? +No, mother; I am sane, but very sad. + +I miss my boyhood's faith in woman's worth - +Torn from my heart, by 'good folks' of the earth. + + + +THE YOUNGER BORN + + + +The modern English-speaking young girl is the astonishment of the world and +the despair of the older generation. Nothing like her has ever been seen +or heard before. Alike in drawing-rooms and the amusement places of the +people, she defies conventions in dress, speech, and conduct. She is bold, +yet not immoral. She is immodest, yet she is chaste. She has no ideals, +yet she is kind and generous. She is an anomaly and a paradox. + +We are the little daughters of Time and the World his wife, +We are not like the children, born in their younger life, +We are marred with our mother's follies and torn with our father's strife. + +We are the little daughters of the modern world, +And Time, her spouse. +She has brought many children to our father's house +Before we came, when both our parents were content + +With simple pleasures and with quiet homely ways. + Modest and mild +Were the fair daughters born to them in those fair days, + Modest and mild. + +But Father Time grew restless and longed for a swifter pace, +And our mother pushed out beside him at the cost of her tender grace, +And life was no more living but just a headlong race. + +And we are wild - +Yea, wild are we, the younger born of the World + Into life's vortex hurled. +With the milk of our mother's breast +We drank her own unrest, + And we learned our speech from Time + Who scoffs at the things sublime. +Time and the World have hurried so +They could not help their younger born to grow; +We only follow, follow where they go. + +They left their high ideals behind them as they ran; +There was but one goal, pleasure, for Woman or for Man, +And they robbed the nights of slumber to lengthen the days' brief span. + +We are the demi-virgins of the modern day; + All evil on the earth is known to us in thought, + But yet we do it not. + We bare our beauteous bodies to the gaze of men, + We lure them, tempt them, lead them on, and then +Lightly we turn away. +By strong compelling passion we are never stirred; +To us it is a word - +A word much used when tragic tales are told; +We are the younger born, yet we are very old +In understanding, and our knowledge makes us bold. +Boldly we look at life, +Loving its stress and strife, +And hating all conventions that may mean restraint, +Yet shunning sin's black taint. + +We know wine's taste; + And the young-maiden bloom and sweetness of our lips + Is often in eclipse + Under the brown weed's stain. +Yet we are chaste; + We have no large capacity for joy or pain, +But an insatiable appetite for pleasure. +We have no use for leisure +And never learned the meaning of that word 'repose.' +Life as it goes +Must spell excitement for us, be the cost what may. +Speeding along the way, + +We ofttimes pause to do some generous little deed, +And fill the cup of need; +For we are kind at heart, + Though with less heart than head, + Unmoral, not immoral, when the worst is said; +We are the product of the modern day. + +We are the little daughters of Time and the World his wife, +We are not like the children, born in their younger life, +We are marred with our mother's follies and torn with our father's strife. + + + +HAPPINESS + + + +There are so many little things that make life beautiful. +I can recall a day in early youth when I was longing for happiness. +Toward the western hills I gazed, watching for its approach. +The hills lay between me and the setting sun, and over them led a highway. +When some traveller crossed the hill, always a fine grey dust rose +cloudless against the sky. +The traveller I could not distinguish, but the dust-cloud I could see. + +And the dust-cloud seemed formed of hopes and possibilities--each speck an +embryo event. +At sunset, when the skies were fair, the dust-cloud grew radiant and shone +with visions. +The happiness for which I waited came not to me adown that western slope, +But now I can recall the cloud of golden dust, the sunset, and the highway +leading over the hill, +The wonderful hope and expectancy of my heart, the visions of youth in my +eyes; and I know this was happiness. + +There are so many little things that make life beautiful. +I can recall another day when I rebelled at life's monotony. +Everywhere about me was the commonplace; and nothing seemed to happen. +Each day was like its yesterday, and to-morrow gave no promise of change. +My young heart rose rebellious in my breast; and I ran aimlessly into the +sunlight--the glowing sunlight of June. +I sent out a dumb cry to Fate, demanding larger joys and more delight. +I ran blindly into a field of blooming clover. +It was breast-high, and billowed about me like rose-red waves of a fragrant +sea. + +The bees were singing above it; and their little brown bodies were loaded +with honey-dew, extracted from the clover blossoms. +The sun reeled in the heavens dizzy with its own splendour. +The day went into night, without bringing any new event to change my life. +But now I recall the field of blooming clover, and the honey-laden bees, +the glorious June sunlight, and the passion of youth in my heart; and I +know that was happiness. + +There are so many little things that make life beautiful. +Yesterday a failure stared me in the face, where I had thought to welcome +proud success. +There was no radiant cloud of dust against the western sky, and no clover +field lying fragrant under mid-June suns, +Neither was youth with me any more. + +But under the vines that clung against my walls, a flock of birds sought +shelter just at twilight; +And, standing at my casement, I could hear the twitter of their voices and +the soft, sweet flutter of their wings. +Then over me there fell a sense of peace and calm, and love for all created +things, and trust illimitable. + +And that I knew was happiness. + +There are so many little things to make life beautiful. + + + +SEEKING FOR HAPPINESS + + + +Seeking for happiness we must go slowly; + The road leads not down avenues of haste; +But often gently winds through by ways lowly, + Whose hidden pleasures are serene and chaste +Seeking for happiness we must take heed +Of simple joys that are not found in speed. + +Eager for noon-time's large effulgent splendour, + Too oft we miss the beauty of the dawn, +Which tiptoes by us, evanescent, tender, + Its pure delights unrecognised till gone. +Seeking for happiness we needs must care +For all the little things that make life fair. + +Dreaming of future pleasures and achievements + We must not let to-day starve at our door; +Nor wait till after losses and bereavements + Before we count the riches in our store. +Seeking for happiness we must prize this - +Not what will be, or was, but that which IS. + +In simple pathways hand in hand with duty + (With faith and love, too, ever at her side), +May happiness be met in all her beauty + The while we search for her both far and wide. +Seeking for happiness we find the way +Doing the things we ought to do each day. + + + +THE ISLAND OF ENDLESS PLAY + + + +Said Willie to Tom, 'Let us hie away +To the wonderful Island of Endless Play. + +It lies off the border of "No School Land," +And abounds with pleasure, I understand. + +There boys go swimming whenever they please +In a lovely river right under the trees. + +And marbles are free, so you need not buy; +And kites of all sizes are ready to fly. + +We sail down the Isthmus of Idle Delight - +We sail and we sail for a day and a night. + +And then, if favoured by billows and breeze, +We land in the Harbour of Do-as-You-Please. + +And there lies the Island of Endless Play, +With no one to say to us, Must, or Nay. + +Books are not known in that land so fair, +Teachers are stoned if they set foot there. + +Hurrah for the Island, so glad and free, +That is the country for you and me.' + +So away went Willie and Tom together +On a pleasure boat, in the lazy weather, +And they sailed in the teeth of a friendly breeze +Right into the harbour of 'Do-as-You-Please.' +Where boats and tackle and marbles and kites +Were waiting them there in this Land of Delights. +They dwelt on the Island of Endless Play +For five long years; then one sad day +A strange, dark ship sailed up to the strand, +And 'Ho! for the voyage to Stupid Land,' +The captain cried, with a terrible noise, +As he seized the frightened and struggling boys +And threw them into the dark ship's hold; +And off and away sailed the captain bold. +They vainly begged him to let them out, +He answered only with scoff and shout. +'Boys that don't study or work,' said he, +'Must sail one day down the Ignorant Sea +To Stupid Land by the No-Book Strait, +With Captain Time on the Pitiless Fate.' + +He let out the sails and away went the three +Over the waters of Ignorant Sea, +Out and away to Stupid Land; +And they live there yet, I understand. +And there's where every one goes, they say, +Who seeks the Island of Endless Play. + + + +THE RIVER OF SLEEP + + + +There are curious isles in the River of Sleep, + Curious isles without number. +We'll visit them all as we leisurely creep +Down the winding stream whose current is deep, + In our beautiful barge of Slumber. + +The very first isle in this wonderful stream + Quite close to the shore is lying, +And after a supper of cakes and cream +We come to the Night-Mare-Isle with a scream, + And hurry away from it crying. + +And next is the Island-of-Lullaby, + And every one there rejoices. +The winds are only a perfumed sigh, +And the birds that sing in the treetops try + To imitate Mothers' voices. + +A little beyond is the Isle-of-Dreams; + Oh, that is the place to be straying. +Everything there is just as it seems; +Dolls are real and sunshine gleams, + And no one calls us from playing. + +And then we come to the drollest isle, + And the funniest sounds come pouring +Down from its borderlands once in a while, +And we lean o'er our barge and listen and smile; + For that is the Isle-of-Snoring. + +And the very last isle in the River of Sleep + Is the sunshiny Isle-of-Waking. +We see it first with our eyes a-peep, +And we give a yawn--then away we leap, + The barge of Slumber forsaking. + + + +THE THINGS THAT COUNT + + + +Now, dear, it isn't the bold things, +Great deeds of valour and might, +That count the most in the summing up of life at the end of the day. +But it is the doing of old things, +Small acts that are just and right; +And doing them over and over again, no matter what others say; +In smiling at fate, when you want to cry, and in keeping at work when you +want to play - +Dear, those are the things that count. + +And, dear, it isn't the new ways +Where the wonder-seekers crowd +That lead us into the land of content, or help us to find our own. +But it is keeping to true ways, +Though the music is not so loud, +And there may be many a shadowed spot where we journey along alone; +In flinging a prayer at the face of fear, and in changing into a song a +groan - +Dear, these are the things that count. + +My dear, it isn't the loud part +Of creeds that are pleasing to God, +Not the chant of a prayer, or the hum of a hymn, or a jubilant shout or +song. +But it is the beautiful proud part +Of walking with feet faith-shod; +And in loving, loving, loving through all, no matter how things go wrong; +In trusting ever, though dark the day, and in keeping your hope when the +way seems long - +Dear, these are the things that count. + + + +LIMITLESS + + + +When the motive is right and the will is strong + There are no limits to human power; + For that great Force back of us moves along +And takes us with it, in trial's hour. + +And whatever the height you yearn to climb, + Though it never was trod by the foot of man, + And no matter how steep--I say you CAN, +If you will be patient--and use your time. + + + +WHAT THEY SAW + + + +Sad man, Sad man, tell me, pray, +What did you see to-day? + +I saw the unloved and unhappy old, waiting for slow delinquent death to +come; +Pale little children toiling for the rich, in rooms where sunlight is +ashamed to go; +The awful almshouse, where the living dead rot slowly in their hideous open +graves. +And there were shameful things. +Soldiers and forts, and industries of death, and devil-ships, and loud- +winged devil-birds, +All bent on slaughter and destruction. These and yet more shameful things +mine eyes beheld: +Old men upon lascivious conquest bent, and young men living with no thought +of God, +And half-clothed women puffing at a weed, aping the vices of the +underworld, +Engrossed in shallow pleasures and intent on being barren wives. +These things I saw. +(How God must loathe His earth!) + +Glad man, Glad man, tell me, pray. +What did you see to-day? + +I saw an aged couple, in whose eyes + Shone that deep light of mingled love and faith, +Which makes the earth one room of paradise, + And leaves no sting in death. + +I saw vast regiments of children pour, +Rank after rank, out of the schoolroom door +By Progress mobilised. They seemed to say: +'Let ignorance make way. +We are the heralds of a better day.' + +I saw the college and the church that stood +For all things sane and good. +I saw God's helpers in the shop and slum +Blazing a path for health and hope to come, +And True Religion, from the grave of creeds, +Springing to meet man's needs. + +I saw great Science reverently stand +And listen for a sound from Border-land, + No longer arrogant with unbelief - + Holding itself aloof - +But drawing near, and searching high and low + For that complete and all-convincing proof + Which shall permit its voice to comfort grief, +Saying, 'We know.' + +I saw fair women in their radiance rise + And trample old traditions in the dust. +Looking in their clear eyes, +I seemed to hear these words as from the skies: + 'He who would father our sweet children must + Be worthy of the trust.' + +Against the rosy dawn, I saw unfurled + The banner of the race we usher in, +The supermen and women of the world, + Who make no code of sex to cover sin; +Before they till the soil of parenthood, +They look to it that seed and soil are good. + +And I saw, too, that old, old sight, and best - +Pure mothers, with dear babies at the breast. +These things I saw. +(How God must love His earth!) + + + +THE CONVENTION + + + +From the Queen Bee mother, the mother Beast, and the mother Fowl in the +fen, +A call went up to the human world, to Woman, the mother of men. +The call said, 'Come: for we, the dumb, are given speech for a day, +And the things we have thought for a thousand years we are going at last to +say.' + +Much they marvelled, these women of earth, at the strange and curious call, +And some of them laughed, and some of them sneered, but they answered it +one and all, +For they wanted to hear what never before was heard since the world began - +The spoken word of Beast and Bird, and the message it held for Man. + +'A plea for shelter,' the woman said, 'or food in the wintry weathers, +Or a foolish request that we be dressed without their furs or feathers. +We will do what we can for the poor dumb things, but they must be +sensible.' Then +The meeting was called and a she-bear stood and voiced the thought of the +fen. + +'Now this is the message we give to you' (it was thus the she-bear spake): +'You the creatures of homes and shrines, and we of the wold and brake, +We have no churches, we have no schools, and our minds you question and +doubt, +But we follow the laws which some Great Cause, alike for us all, laid out. + +'We eat and we drink to live; we shun the things that poison and kill, +And we settle the problems of sex and birth by the law of the female will, +For never was one of us known by a male, or made to mother its kind, +Unless there went from our minds consent (or from what we call the mind). + +'But you, the highest of all she-things, you gorge yourselves at your +feasts, +And you smoke and drink in a way we think would lower the standard of +beasts; +For a ring, a roof and a rag, you are bought by your males, to have and to +hold, +And you mate and you breed without nature's need, while your hearts and +your bodies are cold. + +'All unwanted your offspring come, or you slay them before they are born; +And now the wild she-things of the earth have spoken and told their scorn. +We have no mind and we have no souls, maybe as you think--And still, +Never one of us ate or drank the things that poison and kill, +And never was one of us known by a male except by our wish and will.' + + + +PROTEST + + + +To sit in silence when we should protest +Makes cowards out of men. The human race +Has climbed on protest. Had no voice been raised +Against injustice, ignorance and lust +The Inquisition yet would serve the law +And guillotines decide our least disputes. +The few who dare must speak and speak again +To right the wrongs of many. Speech, thank God, +No vested power in this great day and land +Can gag or throttle; Press and voice may cry +Loud disapproval of existing ills, +May criticise oppression and condemn +The lawlessness of wealth-protecting laws +That let the children and child-bearers toil +To purchase ease for idle millionaires. +Therefore do I protest against the boast +Of independence in this mighty land. +Call no chain strong which holds one rusted link, +Call no land free that holds one fettered slave. +Until the manacled, slim wrists of babes +Are loosed to toss in childish sport and glee; +Until the Mother bears no burden save +The precious one beneath her heart; until +God's soil is rescued from the clutch of greed +And given back to labour, let no man +Call this the Land of Freedom. + + + +A BACHELOR TO A MARRIED FLIRT + + + +All that a man can say of woman's charms, + Mine eyes have spoken and my lips have told +To you a thousand times. Your perfect arms + (A replica from that lost Melos mould), +The fair firm crescents of your bosom (shown +With full intent to make their splendours known), + +Your eyes (that mask with innocence their smile), + The (artful) artlessness of all your ways, +Your kiss-provoking mouth, its lure, its guile - + All these have had my fond and frequent praise. +And something more than praise to you I gave - +Something which made you know me as your slave. + +Yet slaves, at times, grow mutinous and rebel. + Here in this morning hour, from you apart, +The mood is on me to be frank and tell + The thoughts long hidden deep down in my heart. +These thoughts are bitter--thorny plants, that grew +Below the flowers of praise I plucked for you. + +Those flowery praises led you to suppose + You were my benefactor. Well, in truth, +When lovely woman on dull man bestows + Sweet favours of her beauty and her youth, +He is her debtor. I am yours: and yet +You robbed me while you placed me thus in debt. + +I owe you for keen moments when you stirred + My senses with your beauty, when your eyes +(Your wanton eyes) belied the prudent word + Your curled lips uttered. You are worldly wise, +And while you like to set men's hearts on flame, +You take no risks in that old passion-game. + +The carnal, common self of dual me + Found pleasure in this danger play of yours. +(An egotist, man always thinks to be + The victor, if his patience but endures, +And holds in leash the hounds of fierce desire, +Until the silly woman's heart takes fire.) + +But now it is the Higher Self who speaks - + The Me of me--the inner Man--the real - +Whoever dreams his dream and ever seeks + To bring to earth his beautiful ideal. +That lifelong dream with all its promised joy +Your soft bedevilments have helped destroy. + +Woman, how can I hope for happy life + In days to come at my own nuptial hearth, +When you who bear the honoured name of wife + So lightly hold the dearest gifts of earth? +Descending from your pedestal, alas! +You shake the pedestals of all your class. + +A vain, flirtatious wife is like a thief + Who breaks into the temple of men's souls, +And steals the golden vessels of belief, + The swinging censers, and the incense bowls. +All women seem less loyal and less true, +Less worthy of men's faith since I met you. + + + +THE SUPERWOMAN + + + +What will the superwoman be, of whom we sing - + She who is coming over the dim border + Of Far To-morrow, after earth's disorder +Is tidied up by Time? What will she bring + To make life better on tempestuous earth? + How will her worth +Be greater than her forbears? What new power +Within her being will burst into flower? + +She will bring beauty, not the transient dower + Of adolescence which departs with youth - + But beauty based on knowledge of the truth +Of its eternal message and the source +Of all its potent force. + Her outer being by the inner thought + Shall into lasting loveliness be wrought. + +She will bring virtue; but it will not be +The pale, white blossom of cold chastity + Which hides a barren heart. She will be human - + Not saint or angel, but the superwoman - +Mother and mate and friend of superman. + +She will bring strength to aid the larger Plan, + Wisdom and strength and sweetness all combined, + Drawn from the Cosmic Mind - +Wisdom to act, strength to attain, +And sweetness that finds growth in joy or pain. + +She will bring that large virtue, self-control, + And cherish it as her supremest treasure. + Not at the call of sense or for man's pleasure +Will she invite from space an embryo soul, + To live on earth again in mortal fashion, + Unless love stirs her with divinest passion. + +To motherhood she will bring common sense - + That most uncommon virtue. She will give +Love that is more than she-wolf violence + (Which slaughters others that its own may live). + +Love that will help each little tendril mind + To grow and climb; + Love that will know the lordliest use of Time +In training human egos to be kind. + +She will be formed to guide, but not to lead - + Leaders are ever lonely--and her sphere +Will be that of the comrade and the mate, + Loved, loving, and with insight fine and clear, +Which casts its searchlight on the course of fate, +And to the leaders says, 'Proceed' or 'Wait.' + +And best of all, she will bring holy faith +To penetrate the shadowy world of death, + And show the road beyond it, bright and broad, + That leads straight up to God. + + + +CERTITUDE + + + +There was a time when I was confident +That God's stupendous mystery of birth +Was mine to know. The wonder of it lent +New ecstasy and glory to the earth. +I heard no voice that uttered it aloud, +Nor was it written for me on a scroll; +Yet, if alone or in the common crowd, +I felt myself a consecrated soul. +My child leaped in its dark and silent room +And cried, 'I am,' though all unheard by men. +So leaps my spirit in the body's gloom +And cries, 'I live! I shall be born again.' +Elate with certitude towards death I go, +Nor doubt, nor argue, since I know, I know! + + + +COMPASSION + + + +He was a failure, and one day he died. + Across the border of the mapless land +He found himself among a sad-eyed band +Of disappointed souls; they, too, had tried +And missed their purpose. With one voice they cried + Unto the shining Angel in command: + 'Oh, lead us not before our Lord to stand, +For we are failures, failures! Let us hide.' + +Yet on the Angel fared, until they stood + Before the Master. (Even His holy place +The hideous noises of the earth assailed.) +Christ reached His arms out to the trembling brood, + With God's vast sorrow in His listening face. +Come unto Me,' He said; 'I, too, have failed.' + + + +LOVE + + + +Dreaming of love, the ardent mind of youth + Conceives it one with passion's brief delights, +With keen desire and rapture. But, in truth, + These are but milestones to sublime heights +After the highways, swept by strong emotions, + Where wild winds blow and blazing sun rays beat, +After the billows of tempestuous oceans, + Fair mountain summits wait the lover's feet. + +The path is narrow, but the view is wide, + And beauteous the outlook towards the west +Happy are they who walk there side by side, + Leaving below the valleys of unrest, +And on the radiant altitudes above +Know the serene intensity of love. + + + +THREE SOULS + + + +Three Souls there were that reached the Heavenly Gate, +And gained permission of the Guard to wait. +Barred from the bliss of Paradise by sin, +They did not ask or hope to enter in. +'We loved one woman (thus their story ran); +We lost her, for she chose another man. +So great our love, it brought us to this door; +We only ask to see her face once more. +Then will we go to realms where we belong, +And pay our penalty for doing wrong.' + +'And wert thou friends on earth?' (The Guard spake thus.) +'Nay, we were foes; but Death made friends of us. +The dominating thought within each Soul +Brought us together, comrades, to this goal, +To see her face, and in its radiance bask +For one great moment--that is all we ask. +And, having seen her, we must journey back +The path we came--a hard and dangerous track.' +'Wait, then,' the Angel said, 'beside me here, +But do not strive within God's Gate to peer +Nor converse hold with Spirits clothed in light +Who pass this way; thou hast not earned the right.' + +They waited year on year. Then, like a flame, +News of the woman's death from earth-land came. +The eager lovers scanned with hungry eyes +Each Soul that passed the Gates of Paradise. +The well-beloved face in vain they sought, +Until one day the Guardian Angel brought +A message to them. 'She has gone,' he said, +'Down to the lower regions of the dead; +Her chosen mate went first; so great her love +She has resigned the joys that wait above +To dwell with him, until perchance some day, +Absolved from sin, he seeks the Better Way.' + +Silent, the lovers turned. The pitying Guard +Said: 'Stay (the while his hand the door unbarred), +There waits for thee no darker grief or woe; +Enter the Gates, and all God's glories know. +But to be ready for so great a bliss, +Pause for a moment and take heed of this: +The dearest treasure by each mortal lost +Lies yonder, when the Threshold has been crossed, +And thou shalt find within that Sacred Place +The shining wonder of her worshipped face. +All that is past is but a troubled dream; +Go forward now and claim the Fact Supreme.' + +Then clothed like Angels, fitting their estate, +Three Souls went singing, singing through God's Gate. + + + +WHEN LOVE IS LOST + + + +When love is lost, the day sets towards the night, +Albeit the morning sun may still be bright, +And not one cloud-ship sails across the sky. +Yet from the places where it used to lie +Gone is the lustrous glory of the light. + +No splendour rests in any mountain height, +No scene spreads fair and beauteous to the sight; +All, all seems dull and dreary to the eye + When love is lost. + +Love lends to life its grandeur and its might; +Love goes, and leaves behind it gloom and blight; +Like ghosts of time the pallid hours drag by, +And grief's one happy thought is that we die. +Ah, what can recompense us for its flight + When love is lost? + + + +OCCUPATION + + + +There must in heaven be many industries +And occupations, varied, infinite; +Or heaven could not be heaven. +What gracious tasks +The Mighty Maker of the universe +Can offer souls that have prepared on earth +By holding lovely thoughts and fair desires! + +Art thou a poet to whom words come not? +A dumb composer of unuttered sounds, +Ignored by fame and to the world unknown? +Thine may be, then, the mission to create +Immortal lyrics and immortal strains, +For stars to chant together as they swing +About the holy centre where God dwells. + +Hast thou the artist instinct with no skill +To give it form or colour? Unto thee +It may be given to paint upon the skies +Astounding dawns and sunsets, framed by seas +And mountains; or to fashion and adorn +New faces for sweet pansies and new dyes +To tint their velvet garments. Oftentimes +Methinks behind a beauteous flower I see, +Or in the tender glory of a dawn, +The presence of some spirit who has gone +Into the place of mystery, whose call, +Imperious and compelling, sounds for all +Or soon or late. So many have passed on - +So many with ambitions, hopes, and aims +Unrealised, who could not be content +As idle angels even in paradise. +The unknown Michelangelos who lived +With thoughts on beauty bent while chained to toil +That gave them only bread and burial - +These must find waiting in the world of space +The shining timbers of their splendid dreams, +Ready for shaping temples, shrines, and towers, +Where radiant hosts may congregate to raise +Their glad hosannas to the God Supreme. +And will there not be gardens glorious, +And mansions all embosomed among blooms, +Where heavenly children reach out loving arms +To lonely women who have been denied +On earth the longed-for boon of motherhood? + +Surely God has provided work to do +For souls like these, and for the weary, rest. + + + +THE VALLEY OF FEAR + + + +In the journey of life, as we travel along +To the mystical goal that is hidden from sight, +You may stumble at times into Roadways of Wrong, +Not seeing the sign-board that points to the right. +Through caverns of sorrow your feet may be led, +Where the noon of the day will like midnight appear. +But no matter whither you wander or tread, +Keep out of the Valley of Fear. + +The Roadways of Wrong will wind out into light +If you sit in the silence and ask for a Guide; +In the caverns of sorrow your soul gains its sight +Of beautiful vistas, ascending and wide. +In by-paths of worry and trouble and strife +Full many a bloom grows bedewed by a tear, +But wretched and arid and void of all life +Is the desolate Valley of Fear. + +The Valley of Fear is a maddening maze +Of paths that wind on without exit or end, +From nowhere to nowhere lead all of its ways, +And shadows with shadows in more shadows blend. +Each guide-post is lettered, 'This way to Despair,' +And the River of Death in the darkness flows near, +But there is a beautiful Roadway of Prayer +This side of the Valley of Fear. + +This beautiful Roadway is narrow and steep, +And it runs up the side of the Mountain of Faith. +You may not perceive it at first if you weep, +But it rises high over the River of Death. +Though the Roadway is narrow and dark at the base, +It widens ascending, and ever grows clear, +Till it shines at the top with the Light of God's face, +Far, far from the Valley of Fear. + +When close to that Valley your footsteps shall fare, +Turn, turn to the Roadway of Prayer - +The beautiful Roadway of Prayer. + + + +WHAT WOULD IT BE? + + + +Now what were the words of Jesus, +And what would He pause and say, +If we were to meet in home or street, +The Lord of the world to-day? +Oh, I think He would pause and say: +'Go on with your chosen labour; +Speak only good of your neighbour; +Widen your farms, and lay down your arms, +Or dig up the soil with each sabre.' + +Now what were the answer of Jesus +If we should ask for a creed, +To carry us straight to the wonderful gate +When soul from body is freed? +Oh, I think He would give us this creed: +'Praise God whatever betide you; +Cast joy on the lives beside you; +Better the earth, by growing in worth, +With love as the law to guide you.' + +Now what were the answer of Jesus +If we should ask Him to tell +Of the last great goal of the homing soul +Where each of us hopes to dwell? +Oh, I think it is this He would tell: +'The soul is the builder--then wake it; +The mind is the kingdom--then take it; +And thought upon thought let Eden be wrought, +For heaven will be what you make it.' + + + +AMERICA + + + +I am the refuge of all the oppressed, +I am the boast of the free, +I am the harbour where ships may rest +Safely 'twixt sea and sea. +I hold up a torch to a darkened world, +I lighten the path with its ray. +Let my hand keep steady +And let me be ready +For whatever comes my way - +Let me be ready. + +Oh, better than fortresses, better than guns, +Better than lance or spear, +Are the loyal hearts of my daughters and sons, +Faithful and without fear. +But my daughters and sons must understand +THAT ATTILA DID NOT DIE. +And they must be ready, +Their hands must be steady, +If the hosts of hell come nigh - +They must be ready. + +If Jesus were back on the earth with men, +He would not preach to-day +Until He had made Him a scourge, and again +He would drive the defilers away. +He would throw down the tables of lust and greed +And scatter the changers' gold. +He would be ready, +His hand would be steady, +As it was in that temple of old - +He would be ready. + +I am the cradle of God's new world, +From me shall the new race rise, +And my glorious banner must float unfurled, +Unsullied against the skies. +My sons and daughters must be my strength, +With courage to do and to dare, +With hearts that are ready, +With hands that are steady, +And their slogan must be, PREPARE! - +They must be ready! + +With a prayer on the lip they must shoulder arms, +For after all has been said, +We must muster guns, +If we master Huns - +AND ATTILA IS NOT DEAD - +We must be ready! + + + +WAR MOTHERS + + + +There is something in the sound of drum and fife +That stirs all the savage instincts into life. + +In the old times of peace we went our ways, +Through proper days +Of little joys and tasks. Lonely at times, +When from the steeple sounded wedding chimes, +Telling to all the world some maid was wife - +But taking patiently our part in life +As it was portioned us by Church and State, +Believing it our fate. + Our thoughts all chaste +Held yet a secret wish to love and mate + Ere youth and virtue should go quite to waste. +But men we criticised for lack of strength, +And kept them at arm's length. +Then the war came - +The world was all aflame! +The men we had thought dull and void of power +Were heroes in an hour. +He who had seemed a slave to petty greed +Showed masterful in that great time of need. +He who had plotted for his neighbour's pelf, +Now for his fellows offers up himself. +And we were only women, forced by war +To sacrifice the things worth living for. + +Something within us broke, + Something within us woke, + The wild cave-woman spoke. + +When we heard the sound of drumming, + As our soldiers went to camp, + Heard them tramp, tramp, tramp; +As we watched to see them coming, + And they looked at us and smiled + (Yes, looked back at us and smiled), +As they filed along by hillock and by hollow, + Then our hearts were so beguiled + That, for many and many a day, + We dreamed we heard them say, +'Oh, follow, follow, follow!' + And the distant, rolling drum + Called us 'Come, come, come!' + Till our virtue seemed a thing to give away. + +War had swept ten thousand years away from earth. + We were primal once again. + There were males, not modern men; +We were females meant to bring their sons to birth. + And we could not wait for any formal rite, + We could hear them calling to us, 'Come to-night; +For to-morrow, at the dawn, +We move on!' + And the drum + Bellowed, 'Come, come, come!' +And the fife +Whistled, 'Life, life, life!' + +So they moved on and fought and bled and died; +Honoured and mourned, they are the nation's pride. +We fought our battles, too, but with the tide +Of our red blood, we gave the world new lives. +Because we were not wives +We are dishonoured. Is it noble, then, +To break God's laws only by killing men +To save one's country from destruction? +We took no man's life but gave our chastity, +And sinned the ancient sin +To plant young trees and fill felled forests in. + +Oh, clergy of the land, +Bible in hand, +All reverently you stand, + On holy thoughts intent + While barren wives receive the sacrament! +Had you the open visions you could see + Phantoms of infants murdered in the womb, + Who never knew a cradle or a tomb, +Hovering about these wives accusingly. + +Bestow the sacrament! Their sins are not well known - +Ours to the four winds of the earth are blown. + + + +A HOLIDAY + + + +Berlin, Germany, gave the school children a half holiday to celebrate the +sinking of the Lusitania. + +War declares a holiday; +Little children, run and play. +Ring-a-rosy round the earth +With the garland of your mirth. + +Shrill a song brim full of glee +Of a great ship sunk at sea. +Tell with pleasure and with pride +How a hundred children died. + +Sing of orphan babes, whose cries +Beat against unanswering skies; +Let a mother's mad despair +Lend staccato to your air. + +Sing of babes who drowned alone; +Sing of headstones, marked 'Unknown'; +Sing of homes made desolate +Where the stricken mourners wait. + +Sing of battered corpses tossed +By the heedless waves, and lost. +Run, sweet children, sing and play; +War declares a holiday. + + + +THE UNDERTONE + + + +When I was very young I used to feel the dark despairs of youth; +Out of my little griefs I would invent great tragedies and woes; +Not only for myself, but for all those I held most dear +I would invent vast sorrows in my melancholy moods of thought. +Yet down deep, deep in my heart there was an undertone of rapture. +It was like a voice from some other world calling softly to me, +Saying things joyful. + +As I grew older, and Life offered bitter gall for me to drink, +Forcing it through clenched teeth when I refused to take it willingly; +When Pain prepared some special anguish for my heart to bear, +And all the things I longed for seemed to be wholly beyond my reach - +Yet down deep, deep in my heart there was an undertone of rapture. +It was like a Voice, a Voice from some other world calling to me, +Bringing glad tidings. + +Now when I look about me, and see the great injustices of men, +See Idleness and Greed waited upon by luxury and mirth, +See prosperous Vice ride by in state, while footsore Virtue walks; +Now when I hear the cry of need rise up from lands of shameful wealth - +Yet down deep, deep in my heart there is an undertone of rapture. +It is like a Voice--it is a Voice--calling to me and saying: +'Love rules triumphant.' + +Now when each mile-post on the path of life seems marked by headstones, +And one by one dear faces that I loved are hid away from sight; +Now when in each familiar home I see a vacant chair, +And in the throngs once formed of friends I meet unrecognising eyes - +Yet down deep, deep in my heart there is an undertone of rapture. +It is the Voice, it is the Voice for ever saying unto me: +'Life is Eternal.' + + + +GYPSYING + + + +Gypsying, gypsying, through the world together, +Never mind the way we go, never mind what port. +Follow trails, or fashion sails, start in any weather: +While we journey hand in hand, everything is sport. + +Gypsying, gypsying, leaving care and worry: +Never mind the 'if' and 'but' (words for coward lips). +Put them out with 'fear' and 'doubt,' in the pack with 'hurry,' +While we stroll like vagabonds forth to trails, or ships. + +Gypsying, gypsying, just where fancy calls us; +Never mind what others say, or what others do. +Everywhere or foul or fair, liking what befalls us: +While you have me at your side, and while I have you. + +Gypsying, gypsying, camp by hill or hollow; +Never mind the why of it, since it suits our mood. +Go or stay, and pay our way, and let those who follow +Find, upspringing from the soil, some small seed of good. + +Gypsying, gypsying, through the world we wander: +Never mind the rushing years, that have come and gone. +There must be for you and me, lying over Yonder, +Other lands, where side by side we can gypsy on. + + + +SONG OF THE ROAD + + + +I am a Road; a good road, fair and smooth and broad; + And I link with my beautiful tether + Town and Country together, +Like a ribbon rolled on the earth, from the reel of God. + Oh, great the life of a Road! + +I am a Road; a long road, leading on and on; + And I cry to the world to follow, + Past meadow and hill and hollow, +Through desolate night, to the open gates of dawn. + Oh, bold the life of a Road! + +I am a Road; a kind road, shaped by strong hands. + I make strange cities neighbours; + The poor grow rich with my labours, +And beauty and comfort follow me through the lands. + Oh, glad the life of a Road! + +I am a Road; a wise road, knowing all men's ways; + And I know how each heart reaches + For the things dear Nature teaches; +And I am the path that leads into green young Mays. + Oh, sweet the life of a Road! + +I am a Road; and I speed away from the slums, + Away from desolate places, + Away from unused spaces; +Wherever I go, there order from chaos comes. + Oh, brave the life of a Road! + +I am a Road; and I would make the whole world one. + I would give hope to duty, + And cover the earth with beauty. +Do you not see, O men! how all this might be done? + So vast the power of the Road! + + + +THE FAITH WE NEED + + + +Too tall our structures, and too swift our pace; +Not so we mount, not so we gain the race. +Too loud the voice of commerce in the land; +Not so truth speaks, not so we understand. +Too vast our conquests, and too large our gains; +Not so comes peace, not so the soul attains. + +But the need of the world is a faith that will live anywhere; +In the still dark depths of the woods, or out in the sun's full glare. +A faith that can hear God's voice, alike in the quiet glen, +Or in the roar of the street, and over the noises of men. + +And the need of the world is a creed that is founded on joy; +A creed with the turrets of hope and trust, no winds can destroy; +A creed where the soul finds rest, whatever this life bestows, +And dwells undoubting and unafraid, because it knows, it knows. + +And the need of the world is love that burns in the heart like flame; +A love for the Giver of Life, in sorrow or joy the same; +A love that blazes a trail to Go through the dark and the cold, +Or keeps the pathway that leads to Him clean, through glory and gold. + +For the faith that can only thrive or grow in the solitude, +And droops and dies in the marts of men, where sights and sounds are rude; +That is not a faith at all, but a dream of a mystic's heart; +Our faith should point as the compass points, whatever be the chart. + +Our faith must find its centre of peace in a babel of noise; +In the changing ways of the world of men it must keep its poise; +And over the sorrowing sounds of earth it must hear God's call; +And the faith that cannot do all this, that is not faith at all. + + + +THE PRICE HE PAID + + + +I said I would have my fling, + And do what a young man may; +And I didn't believe a thing + That the parsons have to say. +I didn't believe in a God + That gives us blood like fire, +Then flings us into hell because + We answer the call of desire. + +And I said: 'Religion is rot, + And the laws of the world are nil; +For the bad man is he who is caught + And cannot foot his bill. +And there is no place called hell; + And heaven is only a truth +When a man has his way with a maid, + In the fresh keen hour of youth. + +'And money can buy us grace, + If it rings on the plate of the church: +And money can neatly erase + Each sign of a sinful smirch.' +For I saw men everywhere, + Hotfooting the road of vice; +And women and preachers smiled on them + As long as they paid the price. + +So I had my joy of life: + I went the pace of the town; +And then I took me a wife, + And started to settle down. +I had gold enough and to spare + For all of the simple joys +That belong with a house and a home + And a brood of girls and boys. + +I married a girl with health + And virtue and spotless fame. +I gave in exchange my wealth + And a proud old family name. +And I gave her the love of a heart + Grown sated and sick of sin! +My deal with the devil was all cleaned up, + And the last bill handed in. + +She was going to bring me a child, + And when in labour she cried +With love and fear I was wild - + But now I wish she had died. +For the son she bore me was blind + And crippled and weak and sore! +And his mother was left a wreck. + It was so she settled my score. + +I said I must have my fling, + And they knew the path I would go; +Yet no one told me a thing + Of what I needed to know. +Folks talk too much of a soul + From heavenly joys debarred - +And not enough of the babes unborn, + By the sins of their fathers scarred. + + + +DIVORCED + + + +Thinking of one thing all day long, at night +I fall asleep, brain weary and heart sore; +But only for a little while. At three, +Sometimes at two o'clock, I wake and lie, +Staring out into darkness; while my thoughts +Begin the weary treadmill-toil again, +From that white marriage morning of our youth +Down to this dreadful hour. + + I see your face +Lit with the lovelight of the honeymoon; +I hear your voice, that lingered on my name +As if it loved each letter; and I feel +The clinging of your arms about my form, +Your kisses on my cheek--and long to break +The anguish of such memories with tears, +But cannot weep; the fountain has run dry. + +We were so young, so happy, and so full +Of keen sweet joy of life. I had no wish +Outside your pleasure; and you loved me so +That when I sometimes felt a woman's need +For more serene expression of man's love +(The need to rest in calm affection's bay +And not sail ever on the stormy main), +Yet would I rouse myself to your desire; +Meet ardent kiss with kisses just as warm; +So nothing I could give should be denied. + +And then our children came. Deep in my soul, +From the first hour of conscious motherhood, +I knew I should conserve myself for this +Most holy office; knew God meant it so. +Yet even then, I held your wishes first; +And by my double duties lost the bloom +And freshness of my beauty; and beheld +A look of disapproval in your eyes. +But with the coming of our precious child, +The lover's smile, tinged with the father's pride, +Returned again; and helped to make me strong; +And life was very sweet for both of us. + +Another, and another birth, and twice +The little white hearse paused beside our door +And took away some portion of my youth +With my sweet babies. At the first you seemed +To suffer with me, standing very near; +But when I wept too long, you turned away. +And I was hurt, not realising then +My grief was selfish. I could see the change +Which motherhood and sorrow made in me; +And when I saw the change that came to you, +Saw how your eyes looked past me when you talked, +And when I missed the love tone from your voice, +I did that foolish thing weak women do, +Complained and cried, accused you of neglect, +And made myself obnoxious in your sight. + +And often, after you had left my side, +Alone I stood before my mirror, mad +With anger at my pallid cheeks, my dull +Unlighted eyes, my shrunken mother-breasts, +And wept, and wept, and faded more and more. +How could I hope to win back wandering love, +And make new flames in dying embers leap, +By such ungracious means? + + And then She came, +Firm-bosomed, round of cheek, with such young eyes, +And all the ways of youth. I who had died +A thousand deaths, in waiting the return +Of that old love-look to your face once more, +Died yet again and went straight into hell +When I beheld it come at her approach. + +My God, my God, how have I borne it all! +Yet since she had the power to wake that look - +The power to sweep the ashes from your heart +Of burned-out love of me, and light new fires, +One thing remained for me--to let you go. +I had no wish to keep the empty frame +From which the priceless picture had been wrenched. +Nor do I blame you; it was not your fault: +You gave me all that most men can give--love +Of youth, of beauty, and of passion; and +I gave you full return; my womanhood +Matched well your manhood. Yet had you grown ill, +Or old, and unattractive from some cause +(Less close than was my service unto you), +I should have clung the tighter to you, dear; +And loved you, loved you, loved you more and more. + +I grow so weary thinking of these things; +Day in, day out; and half the awful nights. + + + +THE REVEALING ANGELS + + + +Suddenly and without warning they came - +The Revealing Angels came. +Suddenly and simultaneously, through city streets, +Through quiet lanes and country roads they walked. +They walked crying: 'God has sent us to find +The vilest sinners of earth. +We are to bring them before Him, before the Lord of Life.' + +Their voices were like bugles; +And then all war, all strife, +And all the noises of the world grew still; +And no one talked; +And no one toiled, but many strove to flee away. +Robbers and thieves, and those sunk in drunkenness and crime, +Men and women of evil repute, +And mothers with fatherless children in their arms, all strove to hide. +But the Revealing Angels passed them by, +Saying: 'Not you, not you. +Another day, when we shall come again +Unto the haunts of men, +Then we will call your names; +But God has asked us first to bring to him +Those guilty of greater shames +Than lust, or theft, or drunkenness, or vice - +Yea, greater than murder done in passion, +Or self-destruction done in dark despair. +Now in His Holy Name we call: +Come one and all +Come forth; reveal your faces.' + +Then through the awful silence of the world, +Where noise had ceased, they came - +The sinful hosts. +They came from lowly and from lofty places, +Some poorly clad, but many clothed like queens; +They came from scenes of revel and from toil; +From haunts of sin, from palaces, from homes, +From boudoirs, and from churches. +They came like ghosts - +THE VAST BRIGADES OF WOMEN WHO HAD SLAIN +THEIR HELPLESS, UNBORN CHILDREN. With them trailed +Lovers and husbands who had said, 'Do this,' +And those who helped for hire. +They stood before the Angels--before the Revealing +Angels they stood. +And they heard the Angels say, +And all the listening world heard the Angels say: +'These are the vilest sinners of all; +For the Lord of Life made sex that birth might come; +Made sex and its keen compelling desire +To fashion bodies wherein souls might go +From lower planes to higher, +Until the end is reached (which is Beginning). +They have stolen the costly pleasures of the senses +And refused to pay God's price. +They have come together, these men and these women, +As male and female they have come together +In the great creative act. +They have invited souls, and then flung them out into space; +They have made a jest of God's design. +All other sins look white beside this sinning; +All other sins may be condoned, forgiven; +All other sinners may be cleansed and shriven; +Not these, not these. +Pass on, and meet God's eyes.' + +The vast brigade moved forward, and behind then walked the Angels, +Walked the sorrowful Revealing Angels. + + + +THE WELL-BORN + + + +So many people--people--in the world; +So few great souls, love ordered, well begun, +In answer to the fertile mother need! +So few who seem +The image of the Maker's mortal dream; +So many born of mere propinquity - +Of lustful habit, or of accident. +Their mothers felt +No mighty, all-compelling wish to see +Their bosoms garden-places +Abloom with flower faces; +No tidal wave swept o'er them with its flood; +No thrill of flesh or heart; no leap of blood; +No glowing fire, flaming to white desire +For mating and for motherhood: +Yet they bore children. +God! how mankind misuses Thy command, +To populate the earth! +How low is brought high birth! +How low the woman; when, inert as spawn +Left on the sands to fertilise, +She is the means through which the race goes on! +Not so the first intent. +Birth, as the Supreme Mind conceived it, meant +The clear imperious call of mate to mate +And the clear answer. Only thus and then +Are fine, well-ordered, and potential lives +Brought into being. Not by Church or State +Can birth be made legitimate, +Unless +Love in its fulness bless. +Creation so ordains its lofty laws +That man, while greater in all other things, +Is lesser in the generative cause. +The father may be merely man, the male; +Yet more than female must the mother be. +The woman who would fashion +Souls, for the use of earth and angels meet, +Must entertain a high and holy passion. +Not rank, or wealth, or influence of kings +Can give a soul its dower +Of majesty and power, +Unless the mother brings +Great love to that great hour. + + + +SISTERS OF MINE + + + +Sisters, sisters of mine, have we done what we could +In all the old ways, through all the new days, +To better the race and to make life sweet and good? +Have we played the full part that was ours in the start, +Sisters of mine? + +Sisters, sisters of mine, as we hurry along +To a larger world, with our banners unfurled, +The battle-cry on lips where once was Love's old song, +Are we leaving behind better things than we find, +Sisters of mine? + +Sisters, sisters of mine, through the march in the street, +Through turmoil and din, without, and within, +As we gain something big do we lose something sweet? +In the growth of our might is our grace lost to sight? +As new powers unfold do we LOVE as of old, +Sisters of mine? + + + +ANSWER + + + +O well have we done the old tasks! in the old, old ways of earth. +We have kept the house in order, we have given the children birth; +And our sons went out with their fathers, and left us alone at the hearth! + +We have cooked the meats for their table; we have woven their cloth at the +loom; +We have pulled the weeds from their gardens, and kept the flowers in bloom; +And then we have sat and waited, alone in a silent room. + +We have borne all the pains of travail in giving life to the race; +We have toiled and saved, for the masters, and helped them to power and +place; +And when we asked for a pittance, they gave it with grudging grace. + +On the bold, bright face of the dollar all the evils of earth are shown. +We are weary of love that is barter, and of virtue that pines alone; +We are out in the world with the masters: we are finding and claiming our +own! + + + +THE GRADUATES + + + +I saw them beautiful, in fair array upon Commencement Day; +Lissome and lovely, radiant and sweet +As cultured roses, brought to their estate +By careful training. Finished and complete +(As teachers calculate). + +They passed in maiden grace along the aisle, +Leaving the chaste white sunlight of a smile +Upon the gazing throng. +Musing I thought upon their place as mothers of the race. + +Oh there are many actors who can play +Greatly, great parts; but rare indeed the soul +Who can be great when cast for some small role; +Yet that is what the world most needs; big hearts +That will shine forth and glorify poor parts +In this strange drama, Life! Do they, +Who in full dress-rehearsal pass to-day +Before admiring eyes, hold in their store +Those fine high principles which keep old Earth +From being only earth; and make men more +Than just mere men? How will they prove their worth +Of years of study? Will they walk abroad +Decked with the plumage of dead bards of God, +The glorious birds? And shall the lamb unborn +Be slain on altars of their vanity? +To some frail sister who has missed the way +Will they give Christ's compassion, or man's scorn; +And will clean manhood, linked with honest love, +The victor prove, +When riches, gained by greed, dispute the claim? +Will they guard well a husband's home and name. +Or lean down from their altitudes to hear +The voice of flattery speak in the ear +Those lying platitudes which men repeat +To listening Self-Conceit? +Musing I thought upon their place as mothers of the race, +As beautiful they passed in maiden grace. + + + +THE SILENT TRAGEDY + + + +The deepest tragedies of life are not +Put into books, or acted on the stage. +Nay, they are lived in silence, by tense hearts +In homes, among dull unperceiving kin, +And thoughtless friends, who make a whip of words +Wherewith to lash these hearts, and call it wit. + +There is a tragedy lived everywhere +In Christian lands, by an increasing horde +Of women martyrs to our social laws. +Women whose hearts cry out for motherhood; +Women whose bosoms ache for little heads; +Women God meant for mothers, but whose lives +Have been restrained, restricted, and denied +Their natural channels, till at last they stand +Unmated and alone, by that sad sea +Whose slow receding tide returns no more. +Men meet great sorrows; but no man can grasp +The depth, and height, of such a grief as this. + +The call of Fatherhood is from man's brain. +Man cannot know the answer to that call +Save as a woman tells him. But to her +The call of Motherhood is from the soul, +The brain, the body. She is like a plant +Which buds and blossoms only to bear fruit. +Man is the pollen, carried by the wind +Of accident, or impulse, or desire; +And then his role of fatherhood is played. +Her threefold knowledge of maternity, +Through three times three great months, is hers alone. + +Man as an egotist is wounded when +He is not father. Woman when denied +The all-embracing role of motherhood +Rebels with her whole being. Oftentimes +Rebellion finds its only utterance +In shattered nerves, and lack of self-control; +Which gives the merry world its chance to cry +'Old maids are queer.' + In far off Eastern lands + +They think of God as Mother to the race; +Father and Mother of the Universe. +And mayhap this is why they make their girls +Wives prematurely, mothers over young, +Hoping to please their Mother God this way. +Since everywhere in Nature sex is shown +For procreative uses, they contend +Sterility is sinful. (Save when one +Chooses a life of Saintship here on earth, +And so conserves all forces to that end.) + +Here in the West, our God is Masculine; +And while we say He bade a Virgin bring +His Son to birth, we think of Him as One +Placing false values on forced continence - +Preparing heavens for those who live that life - +And hells for those who stray by thought or act +From the unnatural path our laws have made. + +Mother of Christ, thou being woman, thou +Knowing all depths within the woman heart, +All joy, all pain, oh send the world more light. +Enlarge our sympathies; and let our minds +Turn from achievements of material things +To contemplation of Eternal truths. +Space throbs with egos, waiting for rebirth; +And mother-hearted women fill the earth. +Mother of Christ, show us the way to thin +The ranks of childless women, without sin. + + + +THE TRINITY + + + +Much may be done with the world we are in, +Much with the race to better it; +We can unfetter it, +Free it from chains of the old traditions; +Broaden its viewpoint of virtue and sin; +Change its conditions +Of labour and wealth; +And open new roadways to knowledge and health. +Yet some things ever must stay as they are +While the sea has its tide and the sky has its star. +A man and a woman with love between, +Loyal and tender and true and clean, +Nothing better has been or can be +Than just those three. + +Woman may alter the first great plan. +Daughters and sisters and mothers +May stalk with their brothers +Forth from their homes into noisy places +Fit (and fit only) for masculine man. +Marring their graces +With conflict and strife +To widen the outlook of all human life. +Yet some things ever must stay as they are +While the sea has its tide and the sky has its star. +A man and a woman with love that strengthens +And gathers new force as its earth way lengthens; +Nothing better by God is given +This side of heaven. + +Science may show us a wonderful vast +Secret of life and of breeding it; +Man by the heeding it +Out of earth's chaos may bring a new order. +Off with old systems, old laws may be cast. +What now seems the border +Of licence in creeds, +May then be the centre of thoughts and of deeds. +Yet some things ever must stay as they are +While the sea has its tide and the sky has its star. +A man and a woman and love undefiled +And the look of the two in the face of a child, - +Oh, the joys of this world have their changing ways, +But this joy stays. +Nothing better on earth can be +Than just those three. + + + +THE UNWED MOTHER TO THE WIFE + + + +I had been almost happy for an hour, +Lost to the world that knew me in the park +Among strange faces; while my little girl +Leaped with the squirrels, chirruped with the birds +And with the sunlight glowed. She was so dear, +So beautiful, so sweet; and for the time +The rose of love, shorn of its thorn of shame, +Bloomed in my heart. Then suddenly you passed. +I sat alone upon the public bench; +You, with your lawful husband, rode in state; +And when your eyes fell on me and my child, +They were not eyes, but daggers, poison tipped. + +God! how good women slaughter with a look! +And, like cold steel, your glance cut through my heart, +Struck every petal from the rose of love +And left the ragged stalk alive with thorns. + +My little one came running to my side +And called me Mother. It was like a blow +Between the eyes; and made me sick with pain. +And then it seemed as if each bird and breeze +Took up the word, and changed its syllables +From Mother into Magdalene; and cried +My shame to all the world. + + It was your eyes +Which did all this. But listen now to me +(Not you alone, but all the barren wives +Who, like you, flaunt their virtue in the face +Of fallen women): I do chance to know +The crimes you think are hidden from all men +(Save one who took your gold and sold his skill +And jeopardized his name for your base ends). + +I know how you have sunk your soul in sense +Like any wanton; and refused to bear +The harvest of your pleasure-planted seed; +I know how you have crushed the tender bud +Which held a soul; how you have blighted it; +And made the holy miracle of birth +A wicked travesty of God's design; +Yea, many buds, which might be blossoms now +And beautify your selfish, arid life, +Have been destroyed, because you chose to keep +The aimless freedom, and the purposeless, +Self-seeking liberty of childless wives. + +I was an untaught girl. By nature led, +By love and passion blinded, I became +An unwed mother. You, an honoured wife, +Refuse the crown of motherhood, defy +The laws of nature, and fling baby souls +Back in the face of God. And yet you dare +Call me a sinner, and yourself a saint; +And all the world smiles on you, and its doors +Swing wide at your approach. + I stand outside. + +Surely there must be higher courts than earth, +Where you and I will some day meet and be +Weighed by a larger justice. + + + +FATHER AND SON + + + +My grand-dame, vigorous at eighty-one, +Delights in talking of her only son, +My gallant father, long since dead and gone. +'Ah, but he was the lad!' +She says, and sighs, and looks at me askance. +How well I read the meaning of that glance - + 'Poor son of such a dad; + Poor weakling, dull and sad.' +I could, but would not tell her bitter truth +About my father's youth. + +She says: 'Your father laughed his way through earth: +He laughed right in the doctor's face at birth, +Such joy of life he had, such founts of mirth. + Ah, what a lad was he!' +And then she sighs. I feel her silent blame, +Because I brought her nothing but his name. + Because she does not see + Her worshipped son in me. +I could, but would not, speak in my defence, +Anent the difference. + +She says: 'He won all prizes in his time: +He overworked, and died before his prime. +At high ambition's door I lay the crime. + Ah, what a lad he was!' +Well, let her rest in that deceiving thought, +Of what avail to say, 'His death was brought + By broken sexual laws, + The ancient sinful cause.' +I could, but would not, tell the good old dame +The story of his shame. + +I could say: 'I am crippled, weak, and pale, +Because my father was an unleashed male. +Because he ran so fast, I halt and fail + (Ah, yes, he was the lad), +Because he drained each cup of sense-delight +I must go thirsting, thirsting, day and night. + Because he was joy-mad, + I must be always sad. + +Because he learned no law of self-control, +I am a blighted soul.' + Of what avail to speak and spoil her joy. +Better to see her disapproving eyes, +And silent, hear her say, between her sighs, + 'Ah, but he was the boy!' + + + +HUSKS + + + +She looked at her neighbour's house in the light of the waning day - +A shower of rice on the steps, and the shreds of a bride's bouquet. +And then she drew the shade, to shut out the growing gloom, +But she shut it into her heart instead. (Was that a voice in the room?) + +'My neighbour is sad,' she sighed, 'like the mother bird who sees +The last of her brood fly out of the nest to make its home in the trees' - +And then in a passion of tears--'But, oh, to be sad like her: +Sad for a joy that has come and gone!' (Did some one speak, or stir?) + +She looked at her faded hands, all burdened with costly rings; +She looked on her widowed home, all burdened with priceless things. +She thought of the dead years gone, of the empty years ahead - +(Yes, something stirred and something spake, and this was what it said:) + +'The voice of the Might Have Been speaks here through the lonely dusk; +Life offered the fruits of love; you gathered only the husk. +There are jewels ablaze on your breast where never a child has slept.' +She covered her face with her ringed old hands, and wept and wept and wept. + + + +MEDITATIONS + + + +HIS + +I was so proud of you last night, dear girl, +While man with man was striving for your smile. +You never lost your head, nor once dropped down +From your high place +As queen in that gay whirl. + +(It takes more poise to wear a little crown +With modesty and grace +Than to adorn the lordlier thrones of earth.) + +You seem so free from artifice and wile: +And in your eyes I read +Encouragement to my unspoken thought. +My heart is eloquent with words to plead +Its cause of passion; but my questioning mind, +Knowing how love is blind, +Dwells on the pros and cons, and God knows what. + +My heart cries with each beat, +'She is so beautiful, so pure, so sweet, +So more than dear.' +And then I hear +The voice of Reason, asking: 'Would she meet +Life's common duties with good common sense? +Could she bear quiet evenings at your hearth, +And not be sighing for gay scenes of mirth? +If, some great day, love's mighty recompense +For chastity surrendered came to her, +If she felt stir +Beneath her heart a little pulse of life, +Would she rejoice with holy pride and wonder, +And find new glory in the name of wife? +Or would she plot with sin, and seek to plunder +Love's sanctuary, and cast away its treasure, +That she might keep her freedom and her pleasure? +Could she be loyal mate and mother dutiful? +Or is she only some bright hothouse bloom, +Seedless and beautiful, +Meant just for decoration, and for show?' +Alone here in my room, +I hear this voice of Reason. My poor heart +Has ever but one answer to impart, +'I love her so.' + +HERS + +After the ball last night, when I came home +I stood before my mirror, and took note +Of all that men call beautiful. Delight, +Keen sweet delight, possessed me, when I saw +My own reflection smiling on me there, +Because your eyes, through all the swirling hours, +And in your slow good-night, had made a fact +Of what before I fancied might be so; +Yet knowing how men lie, by look and act, +I still had doubted. But I doubt no more, +I know you love me, love me. And I feel +Your satisfaction in my comeliness. + +Beauty and youth, good health and willing mind, +A spotless reputation, and a heart +Longing for mating and for motherhood, +And lips unsullied by another's kiss - +These are the riches I can bring to you. + +But as I sit here, thinking of it all +In the clear light of morning, sudden fear +Has seized upon me. What has been your past? +From out the jungle of old reckless years, +May serpents crawl across our path some day +And pierce us with their fangs? Oh, I am not +A prude or bigot; and I have not lived +A score and three full years in ignorance +Of human nature. Much I can condone; +For well I know our kinship to the earth +And all created things. Why, even I +Have felt the burden of virginity, +When flowers and birds and golden butterflies +In early spring were mating; and I know +How loud that call of sex must sound to man +Above the feeble protest of the world. +But I can hear from depths within my soul +The voices of my unborn children cry +For rightful heritage. (May God attune +The souls of men, that they may hear and heed +That plaintive voice above the call of sex; +And may the world's weak protest swell into +A thunderous diapason--a demand +For cleaner fatherhood.) + Oh, love, come near; +Look in my eyes, and say I need not fear. + + + +THE TRAVELLER + + + +Bristling with steeples, high against the hill, +Like some great thistle in the rosy dawn +It stood; the Town-of-Christian-Churches, stood. +The Traveller surveyed it with a smile. +'Surely,' He said, 'here is the home of peace; +Here neighbour lives with neighbour in accord; +God in the heart of all. Else why these spires?' +(Christmas season, and every bell ringing.) + +The sudden shriek of whistles changed the sound +From mellow music into jarring noise. +Then down the street pale hurrying children came, +And vanished in the yawning Factory door. +He called to them: 'Come back, come unto Me.' +The Foreman cursed, and caned Him from the place. +(Christmas season, and every bell ringing.) + +Forth from two churches came two men, and met, +Disputing loudly over boundary lines, +Hate in their eyes, and murder in their hearts. +A haughty woman drew her skirts aside +Because her fallen sister passed that way. +The Traveller rebuked them all. Amazed, +They asked in indignation, 'Who are you, +Daring to interfere in private lives?' +The Traveller replied, 'My name is CHRIST.' +(Christmas season, and every bell ringing.) + + + +WHAT HAVE YOU DONE? + + + +I + +What have you done, and what are you doing with life, O Man! +O Average Man of the world - +Average Man of the Christian world we call civilised? +What have you done to pay for the labour pains of the mother who bore you? +On earth you occupy space; you consume oxygen from the air: +And what do you give in return for these things? +Who is better that you live, and strive, and toil? +Or that you live through the toiling and striving of others? +As you pass down the street does any one look on you and say, +'There goes a good son, a true husband, a wise father, a fine citizen? +A man whose strong hand is ready to help a neighbour, +A man to trust'? And what do women say of you? +Unto their own souls what do women say? +Do they say: 'He helped to make the road easier for tired feet? +To broaden the narrow horizon for aching eyes? +He helped us to higher ideals of womanhood'? +Look into your own heart and answer, O Average Man of the world, +Of the Christian world we call civilised. + +II + +What do men think of you, what do they think and say of you, +O Average Woman of the world? +Do they say: 'There is a woman with a great heart, +Loyal to her sex, and above envy and evil speaking? +There is a daughter, wife, mother, with a purpose in life: +She can be trusted to mould the minds of little children. +She knows how to be good without being dull; +How to be glad and to make others glad without descending to folly; +She is one who illuminates the path wherein she walks; +One who awakens the best in every human being she meets'? +Look into your heart, O Woman! and answer this: +What are you doing with the beautiful years? +Is your to-day a better thing than was your yesterday? +Have you grown in knowledge, grace, and usefulness? +Or are you ravelling out the wonderful fabric knit by Time, +And throwing away the threads? +Make answer, O Woman! Average Woman of the Christian world. + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, POEMS OF PURPOSE *** + +This file should be named ppur10.txt or ppur10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, ppur11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, ppur10a.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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