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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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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS*Ver.02/11/02*END* + diff --git a/old/ppur10.zip b/old/ppur10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d77cace --- /dev/null +++ b/old/ppur10.zip diff --git a/old/ppur10h.htm b/old/ppur10h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7c86c23 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/ppur10h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1861 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" /> +<title>Poems of Purpose</title> +</head> +<body> +<h2> +<a href="#startoftext">Poems of Purpose, by Ella Wheeler Wilcox</a> +</h2> +<pre> +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. 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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 +</pre> +<p><a name="startoftext"></a></p> +<p>Transcribed from the 1919 Gay and Hancock edition by David Price, +email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div> +<h1>POEMS OF PURPOSE</h1> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div> +<p>Contents:<br /> A Good Sport<br /> A +Son Speaks<br /> The Younger Born<br /> Happiness<br /> Seeking +for Happiness<br /> The Island of Endless Play<br /> The +River of Sleep<br /> The Things that Count<br /> Limitless<br /> What +They Saw<br /> The Convention<br /> Protest<br /> A +Bachelor to a Married Flirt<br /> The Superwoman<br /> Certitude<br /> Compassion<br /> Love<br /> Three +Souls<br /> When Love is Lost<br /> Occupation<br /> The +Valley of Fear<br /> What would it be?<br /> America<br /> War +Mothers<br /> A Holiday<br /> The +Undertone<br /> Gypsying<br /> Song +of the Road<br /> The Faith we Need<br /> The +Price he Paid<br /> Divorced<br /> The +Revealing Angels<br /> The Well-born<br /> Sisters +of Mine<br /> Answer<br /> The Graduates<br /> The +Silent Tragedy<br /> The Trinity<br /> The +Unwed Mother to the Wife<br /> Father and Son<br /> Husks<br /> Meditations<br /> The +Traveller<br /> What Have You Done?</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>A GOOD SPORT</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>I was a little lad, and the older boys called to me from the pier:<br />They +called to me: ‘Be a sport: be a sport! Leap in and swim!’<br />I +leaped in and swam, though I had never been taught a stroke.<br />Then +I was made a hero, and they all shouted:<br /> ‘Well +done! Well done,<br />Brave boy, you are a sport, a good sport!’<br />And +I was very glad.</p> +<p>But now I wish I had learned to swim the right way,<br /> Or +had never learned at all.<br />Now I regret that day,<br /> For +it led to my fall.</p> +<p>I was a youth, and I heard the older men talking of the road to wealth;<br />They +talked of bulls and bears, of buying on margins,<br />And they said, +‘Be a sport, my boy, plunge in and win or lose it all!<br />It +is the only way to fortune.’<br />So I plunged in and won; and +the older men patted me on the back,<br />And they said, ‘You +are a sport, my boy, a good sport!’<br />And I was very glad.</p> +<p>But now I wish I had lost all I ventured on that day -<br /> Yes, +wish I had lost it all.<br />For it was the wrong way,<br /> And +pushed me to my fall.</p> +<p>I was a young man, and the gay world called me to come;<br />Gay +women and gay men called to me, crying:<br /> ‘Be +a sport; be a good sport!<br />Fill our glasses and let us fill yours.<br />We +are young but once; let us dance and sing,<br />And drive the dull hours +of night until they stand at bay<br />Against the shining bayonets of +day.’<br />So I filled my glass, and I filled their glasses, over +and over again,<br />And I sang and danced and drank, and drank and +danced and sang,<br />And I heard them cry, ‘He is a sport, a +good sport!’<br />As they held their glasses out to be filled +again.<br />And I was very glad.</p> +<p>Oh the madness of youth and song and dance and wine,<br />Of woman’s +eyes and lips, when the night dies in the arms of dawn!<br />And now +I wish I had not gone that way.<br />Now I wish I had not heard them +say,<br />‘He is a sport, a good sport!’<br />For I am old +who should be young.<br />The splendid vigour of my youth I flung<br />Under +the feet of a mad, unthinking throng.<br />My strength went out with +wine and dance and song;<br />Unto the winds of earth I tossed like +chaff,<br />With idle jest and laugh,<br />The pride of splendid manhood, +all its wealth<br />Of unused power and health -<br />Its dream of looking +into some pure girl’s eyes<br />And finding there its earthly +paradise -<br />Its hope of virile children free from blight -<br />Its +thoughts of climbing to some noble height<br />Of great achievement +- all these gifts divine<br />I cast away for song and dance and wine.<br />Oh, +I have been a sport, a good sport;<br />But I am very sad.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>A SON SPEAKS</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Mother, sit down, for I have much to say<br />Anent this widespread +ever-growing theme<br />Of woman and her virtues and her rights.</p> +<p>I left you for the large, loud world of men,<br />When I had lived +one little score of years.<br />I judged all women by you, and my heart<br />Was +filled with high esteem and reverence<br />For your angelic sex; and +for the wives,<br />The sisters, daughters, mothers of my friends<br />I +held but holy thoughts. To fallen stars<br />(Of whom you told +me in our last sweet talk,<br />Warning me of the dangers in my path)<br />I +gave wide pity as you bade me to,<br />Saying their sins harked back +to my base sex.</p> +<p>Now listen, mother mine: Ten years have passed<br />Since that clean-minded +and pure-bodied youth,<br />Thinking to write his name upon the stars,<br />Went +from your presence. He returns to you<br />Fallen from his altitude +of thought,<br />Hiding deep scars of sins upon his soul,<br />His fair +illusions shattered and destroyed.<br />And would you know the story +of his fall?</p> +<p>He sat beside a good man’s honoured wife<br />At her own table. +She was beautiful<br />As woods in early autumn. Full of soft<br />And +subtle witcheries of voice and look -<br />His senior, both in knowledge +and in years.</p> +<p>The boyish admiration of his glance<br />Was white as April sunlight +when it falls<br />Upon a blooming tree, until she leaned<br />So close +her rounded body sent quick thrills<br />Along his nerves. He +thought it accident,<br />And moved a little; soon she leaned again.<br />The +half-hid beauties of her heaving breast<br />Rising and falling under +scented lace,<br />The teasing tendrils of her fragrant hair,<br />With +intermittent touches on his cheek,<br />Changed the boy’s interest +to a man’s desire.<br />She saw that first young madness in his +eyes<br />And smiled and fanned the flame. That was his fall;<br />And +as some mangled fly may crawl away<br />And leave his wings behind him +in the web,<br />So were his wings of faith in womanhood<br />Left in +the meshes of her sensuous net.</p> +<p>The youth, forced into sudden manhood, went<br />Seeking the lost +ideal of his dreams.<br />He met, in churches and in drawing-rooms,<br />Women +who wore the mask of innocence<br />And basked in public favour, yet +who seemed<br />To find their pleasure playing with men’s hearts,<br />As +children play with loaded guns. He heard<br />(Until the tale +fell dull upon his ears)<br />The unsolicited complaints of wives<br />And +mothers all unsatisfied with life,<br />While crowned with every blessing +earth can give<br />Longing for God knows what to bring content,<br />And +openly or with appealing look<br />Asking for sympathy. (The first +blind step<br />That leads from wifely honour down to shame,<br />Is +ofttimes hid with flowers of sympathy.)</p> +<p>He saw proud women who would flush and pale<br />With sense of outraged +modesty if one<br />Spoke of the ancient sin before them, bare<br />To +all men’s sight, or flimsily conceal<br />By veils that bid adventurous +eyes proceed,<br />Charms meant alone for lover and for child.<br />He +saw chaste virgins tempt and tantalise,<br />Lure and deny, invite - +and then refuse,<br />And drive men forth half crazed to wantons’ +arms.</p> +<p>Mother, you taught me there were but two kinds<br />Of women in the +world - the good and bad.<br />But you have been too sheltered in the +safe,<br />Old-fashioned sweetness of your quiet life,<br />To know +how women of these modern days<br />Make licence of their new-found +liberty.<br />Why, I have been more tempted and more shocked<br />By +belles and beauties in the social whirl,<br />By trusted wives and mothers +in their homes,<br />Than by the women of the underworld<br />Who sell +their favours. Do you think me mad?<br />No, mother; I am sane, +but very sad.</p> +<p>I miss my boyhood’s faith in woman’s worth -<br />Torn +from my heart, by ‘good folks’ of the earth.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>THE YOUNGER BORN</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>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.</p> +<p><i>We</i> <i>are the little daughters of Time and the World his wife</i>,<br /><i>We +are not like the children</i>, <i>born in their younger life</i>,<br /><i>We +are marred with our mother’s follies and torn with our father’s +strife.</i></p> +<p>We are the little daughters of the modern world,<br />And Time, her +spouse.<br />She has brought many children to our father’s house<br />Before +we came, when both our parents were content</p> +<p>With simple pleasures and with quiet homely ways.<br /> Modest +and mild<br />Were the fair daughters born to them in those fair days,<br /> Modest +and mild.</p> +<p><i>But Father Time grew restless and longed for a swifter pace</i>,<br /><i>And +our mother pushed out beside him at the cost of her tender grace</i>,<br /><i>And +life was no more living but just a headlong race.</i></p> +<p>And we are wild -<br />Yea, wild are we, the younger born of the +World<br /> Into life’s vortex hurled.<br />With +the milk of our mother’s breast<br />We drank her own unrest,<br /> And +we learned our speech from Time<br /> Who scoffs at +the things sublime.<br />Time and the World have hurried so<br />They +could not help their younger born to grow;<br />We only follow, follow +where they go.</p> +<p><i>They left their high ideals behind them as they ran;<br />There +was but one goal</i>, <i>pleasure</i>, <i>for Woman or for Man</i>,<br /><i>And +they robbed the nights of slumber to lengthen the days’ brief +span.</i></p> +<p>We are the demi-virgins of the modern day;<br /> All +evil on the earth is known to us in thought,<br /> But +yet we do it not.<br /> We bare our beauteous bodies +to the gaze of men,<br /> We lure them, tempt them, +lead them on, and then<br />Lightly we turn away.<br />By strong compelling +passion we are never stirred;<br />To us it is a word -<br />A word +much used when tragic tales are told;<br />We are the younger born, +yet we are very old<br />In understanding, and our knowledge makes us +bold.<br />Boldly we look at life,<br />Loving its stress and strife,<br />And +hating all conventions that may mean restraint,<br />Yet shunning sin’s +black taint.</p> +<p>We know wine’s taste;<br /> And the young-maiden +bloom and sweetness of our lips<br /> Is often in eclipse<br /> Under +the brown weed’s stain.<br />Yet we are chaste;<br /> We +have no large capacity for joy or pain,<br />But an insatiable appetite +for pleasure.<br />We have no use for leisure<br />And never learned +the meaning of that word ‘repose.’<br />Life as it goes<br />Must +spell excitement for us, be the cost what may.<br />Speeding along the +way,</p> +<p>We ofttimes pause to do some generous little deed,<br />And fill +the cup of need;<br />For we are kind at heart,<br /> Though +with less heart than head,<br /> Unmoral, not immoral, +when the worst is said;<br />We are the product of the modern day.</p> +<p><i>We are the little daughters of Time and the World his wife</i>,<br /><i>We +are not like the children</i>, <i>born in their younger life</i>,<br /><i>We +are marred with our mother’s follies and torn with our father’s +strife</i>.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>HAPPINESS</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p><i>There are so many little things that make life beautiful.<br /></i>I +can recall a day in early youth when I was longing for happiness.<br />Toward +the western hills I gazed, watching for its approach.<br />The hills +lay between me and the setting sun, and over them led a highway.<br />When +some traveller crossed the hill, always a fine grey dust rose cloudless +against the sky.<br />The traveller I could not distinguish, but the +dust-cloud I could see.</p> +<p>And the dust-cloud seemed formed of hopes and possibilities - each +speck an embryo event.<br />At sunset, when the skies were fair, the +dust-cloud grew radiant and shone with visions.<br />The happiness for +which I waited came not to me adown that western slope,<br />But now +I can recall the cloud of golden dust, the sunset, and the highway leading +over the hill,<br />The wonderful hope and expectancy of my heart, the +visions of youth in my eyes; and I know this was happiness.</p> +<p><i>There are so many little things that make life beautiful.<br /></i>I +can recall another day when I rebelled at life’s monotony.<br />Everywhere +about me was the commonplace; and nothing seemed to happen.<br />Each +day was like its yesterday, and to-morrow gave no promise of change.<br />My +young heart rose rebellious in my breast; and I ran aimlessly into the +sunlight - the glowing sunlight of June.<br />I sent out a dumb cry +to Fate, demanding larger joys and more delight.<br />I ran blindly +into a field of blooming clover.<br />It was breast-high, and billowed +about me like rose-red waves of a fragrant sea.</p> +<p>The bees were singing above it; and their little brown bodies were +loaded with honey-dew, extracted from the clover blossoms.<br />The +sun reeled in the heavens dizzy with its own splendour.<br />The day +went into night, without bringing any new event to change my life.<br />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.</p> +<p><i>There are so many little things that make life beautiful.<br /></i>Yesterday +a failure stared me in the face, where I had thought to welcome proud +success.<br />There was no radiant cloud of dust against the western +sky, and no clover field lying fragrant under mid-June suns,<br />Neither +was youth with me any more.</p> +<p>But under the vines that clung against my walls, a flock of birds +sought shelter just at twilight;<br />And, standing at my casement, +I could hear the twitter of their voices and the soft, sweet flutter +of their wings.<br />Then over me there fell a sense of peace and calm, +and love for all created things, and trust illimitable.</p> +<p>And that I knew was happiness.</p> +<p><i>There are so many little things to make life beautiful</i>.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>SEEKING FOR HAPPINESS</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Seeking for happiness we must go slowly;<br /> The +road leads not down avenues of haste;<br />But often gently winds through +by ways lowly,<br /> Whose hidden pleasures are serene +and chaste<br />Seeking for happiness we must take heed<br />Of simple +joys that are not found in speed.</p> +<p>Eager for noon-time’s large effulgent splendour,<br /> Too +oft we miss the beauty of the dawn,<br />Which tiptoes by us, evanescent, +tender,<br /> Its pure delights unrecognised till gone.<br />Seeking +for happiness we needs must care<br />For all the little things that +make life fair.</p> +<p>Dreaming of future pleasures and achievements<br /> We +must not let to-day starve at our door;<br />Nor wait till after losses +and bereavements<br /> Before we count the riches in +our store.<br />Seeking for happiness we must prize this -<br />Not +what will be, or was, but that which <i>is</i>.</p> +<p>In simple pathways hand in hand with duty<br /> (With +faith and love, too, ever at her side),<br />May happiness be met in +all her beauty<br /> The while we search for her both +far and wide.<br />Seeking for happiness we find the way<br />Doing +the things we ought to do each day.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>THE ISLAND OF ENDLESS PLAY</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Said Willie to Tom, ‘Let us hie away<br />To the wonderful +Island of Endless Play.</p> +<p>It lies off the border of “No School Land,”<br />And +abounds with pleasure, I understand.</p> +<p>There boys go swimming whenever they please<br />In a lovely river +right under the trees.</p> +<p>And marbles are free, so you need not buy;<br />And kites of all +sizes are ready to fly.</p> +<p>We sail down the Isthmus of Idle Delight -<br />We sail and we sail +for a day and a night.</p> +<p>And then, if favoured by billows and breeze,<br />We land in the +Harbour of Do-as-You-Please.</p> +<p>And there lies the Island of Endless Play,<br />With no one to say +to us, Must, or Nay.</p> +<p>Books are not known in that land so fair,<br />Teachers are stoned +if they set foot there.</p> +<p>Hurrah for the Island, so glad and free,<br />That is the country +for you and me.’</p> +<p>So away went Willie and Tom together<br />On a pleasure boat, in +the lazy weather,<br />And they sailed in the teeth of a friendly breeze<br />Right +into the harbour of ‘Do-as-You-Please.’<br />Where boats +and tackle and marbles and kites<br />Were waiting them there in this +Land of Delights.<br />They dwelt on the Island of Endless Play<br />For +five long years; then one sad day<br />A strange, dark ship sailed up +to the strand,<br />And ‘Ho! for the voyage to Stupid Land,’<br />The +captain cried, with a terrible noise,<br />As he seized the frightened +and struggling boys<br />And threw them into the dark ship’s hold;<br />And +off and away sailed the captain bold.<br />They vainly begged him to +let them out,<br />He answered only with scoff and shout.<br />‘Boys +that don’t study or work,’ said he,<br />‘Must sail +one day down the Ignorant Sea<br />To Stupid Land by the No-Book Strait,<br />With +Captain Time on the Pitiless Fate.’</p> +<p>He let out the sails and away went the three<br />Over the waters +of Ignorant Sea,<br />Out and away to Stupid Land;<br />And they live +there yet, I understand.<br />And there’s where every one goes, +they say,<br />Who seeks the Island of Endless Play.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>THE RIVER OF SLEEP</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>There are curious isles in the River of Sleep,<br /> Curious +isles without number.<br />We’ll visit them all as we leisurely +creep<br />Down the winding stream whose current is deep,<br /> In +our beautiful barge of Slumber.</p> +<p>The very first isle in this wonderful stream<br /> Quite +close to the shore is lying,<br />And after a supper of cakes and cream<br />We +come to the Night-Mare-Isle with a scream,<br /> And +hurry away from it crying.</p> +<p>And next is the Island-of-Lullaby,<br /> And every +one there rejoices.<br />The winds are only a perfumed sigh,<br />And +the birds that sing in the treetops try<br /> To imitate +Mothers’ voices.</p> +<p>A little beyond is the Isle-of-Dreams;<br /> Oh, +that is the place to be straying.<br />Everything there is just as it +seems;<br />Dolls are real and sunshine gleams,<br /> And +no one calls us from playing.</p> +<p>And then we come to the drollest isle,<br /> And +the funniest sounds come pouring<br />Down from its borderlands once +in a while,<br />And we lean o’er our barge and listen and smile;<br /> For +that is the Isle-of-Snoring.</p> +<p>And the very last isle in the River of Sleep<br /> Is +the sunshiny Isle-of-Waking.<br />We see it first with our eyes a-peep,<br />And +we give a yawn - then away we leap,<br /> The barge +of Slumber forsaking.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>THE THINGS THAT COUNT</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Now, dear, it isn’t the bold things,<br />Great deeds of valour +and might,<br />That count the most in the summing up of life at the +end of the day.<br />But it is the doing of old things,<br />Small acts +that are just and right;<br />And doing them over and over again, no +matter what others say;<br />In smiling at fate, when you want to cry, +and in keeping at work when you want to play -<br />Dear, those are +the things that count.</p> +<p>And, dear, it isn’t the new ways<br />Where the wonder-seekers +crowd<br />That lead us into the land of content, or help us to find +our own.<br />But it is keeping to true ways,<br />Though the music +is not so loud,<br />And there may be many a shadowed spot where we +journey along alone;<br />In flinging a prayer at the face of fear, +and in changing into a song a groan -<br />Dear, these are the things +that count.</p> +<p>My dear, it isn’t the loud part<br />Of creeds that are pleasing +to God,<br />Not the chant of a prayer, or the hum of a hymn, or a jubilant +shout or song.<br />But it is the beautiful proud part<br />Of walking +with feet faith-shod;<br />And in loving, loving, loving through all, +no matter how things go wrong;<br />In trusting ever, though dark the +day, and in keeping your hope when the way seems long -<br />Dear, these +are the things that count.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>LIMITLESS</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>When the motive is right and the will is strong<br /> There +are no limits to human power;<br /> For that great +Force back of us moves along<br />And takes us with it, in trial’s +hour.</p> +<p>And whatever the height you yearn to climb,<br /> Though +it never was trod by the foot of man,<br /> And no +matter how steep - I say you <i>can</i>,<br />If you will be patient +- and use your time.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>WHAT THEY SAW</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p><i>Sad man</i>, <i>Sad man</i>, <i>tell me</i>, <i>pray</i>,<br /><i>What +did you see to-day</i>?</p> +<p>I saw the unloved and unhappy old, waiting for slow delinquent death +to come;<br />Pale little children toiling for the rich, in rooms where +sunlight is ashamed to go;<br />The awful almshouse, where the living +dead rot slowly in their hideous open graves.<br />And there were shameful +things.<br />Soldiers and forts, and industries of death, and devil-ships, +and loud-winged devil-birds,<br />All bent on slaughter and destruction. +These and yet more shameful things mine eyes beheld:<br />Old men upon +lascivious conquest bent, and young men living with no thought of God,<br />And +half-clothed women puffing at a weed, aping the vices of the underworld,<br />Engrossed +in shallow pleasures and intent on being barren wives.<br />These things +I saw.<br />(How God must loathe His earth!)</p> +<p><i>Glad man</i>, <i>Glad man</i>, <i>tell me</i>, <i>pray.<br />What +did you see to-day</i>?</p> +<p>I saw an agèd couple, in whose eyes<br /> Shone +that deep light of mingled love and faith,<br />Which makes the earth +one room of paradise,<br /> And leaves no sting in +death.</p> +<p>I saw vast regiments of children pour,<br />Rank after rank, out +of the schoolroom door<br />By Progress mobilised. They seemed +to say:<br />‘Let ignorance make way.<br />We are the heralds +of a better day.’</p> +<p>I saw the college and the church that stood<br />For all things sane +and good.<br />I saw God’s helpers in the shop and slum<br />Blazing +a path for health and hope to come,<br />And True Religion, from the +grave of creeds,<br />Springing to meet man’s needs.</p> +<p>I saw great Science reverently stand<br />And listen for a sound +from Border-land,<br /> No longer arrogant with unbelief +-<br /> Holding itself aloof -<br />But drawing near, +and searching high and low<br /> For that complete +and all-convincing proof<br /> Which shall permit its +voice to comfort grief,<br />Saying, ‘We know.’</p> +<p>I saw fair women in their radiance rise<br /> And +trample old traditions in the dust.<br />Looking in their clear eyes,<br />I +seemed to hear these words as from the skies:<br /> ‘He +who would father our sweet children must<br /> Be worthy +of the trust.’</p> +<p>Against the rosy dawn, I saw unfurled<br /> The +banner of the race we usher in,<br />The supermen and women of the world,<br /> Who +make no code of sex to cover sin;<br />Before they till the soil of +parenthood,<br />They look to it that seed and soil are good.</p> +<p>And I saw, too, that old, old sight, and best -<br />Pure mothers, +with dear babies at the breast.<br />These things I saw.<br />(How God +must love His earth!)</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>THE CONVENTION</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>From the Queen Bee mother, the mother Beast, and the mother Fowl +in the fen,<br />A call went up to the human world, to Woman, the mother +of men.<br />The call said, ‘Come: for we, the dumb, are given +speech for a day,<br />And the things we have thought for a thousand +years we are going at last to say.’</p> +<p>Much they marvelled, these women of earth, at the strange and curious +call,<br />And some of them laughed, and some of them sneered, but they +answered it one and all,<br />For they wanted to hear what never before +was heard since the world began -<br />The spoken word of Beast and +Bird, and the message it held for Man.</p> +<p>‘A plea for shelter,’ the woman said, ‘or food +in the wintry weathers,<br />Or a foolish request that we be dressed +without their furs or feathers.<br />We will do what we can for the +poor dumb things, but they must be sensible.’ Then<br />The +meeting was called and a she-bear stood and voiced the thought of the +fen.</p> +<p>‘Now this is the message we give to you’ (it was thus +the she-bear spake):<br />‘You the creatures of homes and shrines, +and we of the wold and brake,<br />We have no churches, we have no schools, +and our minds you question and doubt,<br />But we follow the laws which +some Great Cause, alike for us all, laid out.</p> +<p>‘We eat and we drink to live; we shun the things that poison +and kill,<br />And we settle the problems of sex and birth by the law +of the female will,<br /><i>For never was one of us known by a male</i>, +<i>or made to mother its kind</i>,<br /><i>Unless there went from our +minds consent (or from what we call the mind).</i></p> +<p>‘But you, the highest of all she-things, you gorge yourselves +at your feasts,<br />And you smoke and drink in a way we think would +lower the standard of beasts;<br />For a ring, a roof and a rag, you +are bought by your males, to have and to hold,<br />And you mate and +you breed without nature’s need, while your hearts and your bodies +are cold.</p> +<p>‘All unwanted your offspring come, or you slay them before +they are born;<br />And now the wild she-things of the earth have spoken +and told their scorn.<br />We have no mind and we have no souls, maybe +as you think - And still,<br />Never one of us ate or drank the things +that poison and kill,<br /><i>And never was one of us known by a male +except by our wish and will</i>.’</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>PROTEST</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>To sit in silence when we should protest<br />Makes cowards out of +men. The human race<br />Has climbed on protest. Had no +voice been raised<br />Against injustice, ignorance and lust<br />The +Inquisition yet would serve the law<br />And guillotines decide our +least disputes.<br />The few who dare must speak and speak again<br />To +right the wrongs of many. Speech, thank God,<br />No vested power +in this great day and land<br />Can gag or throttle; Press and voice +may cry<br />Loud disapproval of existing ills,<br />May criticise oppression +and condemn<br />The lawlessness of wealth-protecting laws<br />That +let the children and child-bearers toil<br />To purchase ease for idle +millionaires.<br />Therefore do I protest against the boast<br />Of +independence in this mighty land.<br />Call no chain strong which holds +one rusted link,<br />Call no land free that holds one fettered slave.<br />Until +the manacled, slim wrists of babes<br />Are loosed to toss in childish +sport and glee;<br />Until the Mother bears no burden save<br />The +precious one beneath her heart; until<br />God’s soil is rescued +from the clutch of greed<br />And given back to labour, let no man<br />Call +this the Land of Freedom.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>A BACHELOR TO A MARRIED FLIRT</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>All that a man can say of woman’s charms,<br /> Mine +eyes have spoken and my lips have told<br />To you a thousand times. +Your perfect arms<br /> (A replica from that lost Melos +mould),<br />The fair firm crescents of your bosom (shown<br />With +full intent to make their splendours known),</p> +<p>Your eyes (that mask with innocence their smile),<br /> The +(artful) artlessness of all your ways,<br />Your kiss-provoking mouth, +its lure, its guile -<br /> All these have had my fond +and frequent praise.<br />And something more than praise to you I gave +-<br />Something which made you know me as your slave.</p> +<p>Yet slaves, at times, grow mutinous and rebel.<br /> Here +in this morning hour, from you apart,<br />The mood is on me to be frank +and tell<br /> The thoughts long hidden deep down in +my heart.<br />These thoughts are bitter - thorny plants, that grew<br />Below +the flowers of praise I plucked for you.</p> +<p>Those flowery praises led you to suppose<br /> You +were my benefactor. Well, in truth,<br />When lovely woman on +dull man bestows<br /> Sweet favours of her beauty +and her youth,<br />He is her debtor. I am yours: and yet<br /><i>You +robbed me while you placed me thus in debt.</i></p> +<p>I owe you for keen moments when you stirred<br /> My +senses with your beauty, when your eyes<br />(Your wanton eyes) belied +the prudent word<br /> Your curled lips uttered. +You are worldly wise,<br />And while you like to set men’s hearts +on flame,<br />You take no risks in that old passion-game.</p> +<p>The carnal, common self of dual me<br /> Found pleasure +in this danger play of yours.<br />(An egotist, man always thinks to +be<br /> The victor, if his patience but endures,<br />And +holds in leash the hounds of fierce desire,<br />Until the silly woman’s +heart takes fire.)</p> +<p>But now it is the Higher Self who speaks -<br /> The +Me of me - the inner Man - the real -<br />Whoever dreams his dream +and ever seeks<br /> To bring to earth his beautiful +ideal.<br />That lifelong dream with all its promised joy<br />Your +soft bedevilments have helped destroy.</p> +<p>Woman, how can I hope for happy life<br /> In days +to come at my own nuptial hearth,<br />When you who bear the honoured +name of wife<br /> So lightly hold the dearest gifts +of earth?<br />Descending from your pedestal, alas!<br />You shake the +pedestals of all your class.</p> +<p>A vain, flirtatious wife is like a thief<br /> Who +breaks into the temple of men’s souls,<br />And steals the golden +vessels of belief,<br /> The swinging censers, and +the incense bowls.<br />All women seem less loyal and less true,<br />Less +worthy of men’s faith since I met you.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>THE SUPERWOMAN</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>What will the superwoman be, of whom we sing -<br /> She +who is coming over the dim border<br /> Of Far To-morrow, +after earth’s disorder<br />Is tidied up by Time? What will +she bring<br /> To make life better on tempestuous +earth?<br /> How will her worth<br />Be greater than +her forbears? What new power<br />Within her being will burst +into flower?</p> +<p>She will bring beauty, not the transient dower<br /> Of +adolescence which departs with youth -<br /> But beauty +based on knowledge of the truth<br />Of its eternal message and the +source<br />Of all its potent force.<br /> Her outer +being by the inner thought<br /> Shall into lasting +loveliness be wrought.</p> +<p>She will bring virtue; but it will not be<br />The pale, white blossom +of cold chastity<br /> Which hides a barren heart. +She will be human -<br /> Not saint or angel, but the +superwoman -<br />Mother and mate and friend of superman.</p> +<p>She will bring strength to aid the larger Plan,<br /> Wisdom +and strength and sweetness all combined,<br /> Drawn +from the Cosmic Mind -<br />Wisdom to act, strength to attain,<br />And +sweetness that finds growth in joy or pain.</p> +<p>She will bring that large virtue, self-control,<br /> And +cherish it as her supremest treasure.<br /> Not at +the call of sense or for man’s pleasure<br />Will she invite from +space an embryo soul,<br /> To live on earth again +in mortal fashion,<br /> Unless love stirs her with +divinest passion.</p> +<p>To motherhood she will bring common sense -<br /> That +most uncommon virtue. She will give<br />Love that is more than +she-wolf violence<br /> (Which slaughters others that +its own may live).</p> +<p>Love that will help each little tendril mind<br /> To +grow and climb;<br /> Love that will know the lordliest +use of Time<br />In training human egos to be kind.</p> +<p>She will be formed to guide, but not to lead -<br /> Leaders +are ever lonely - and her sphere<br />Will be that of the comrade and +the mate,<br /> Loved, loving, and with insight fine +and clear,<br />Which casts its searchlight on the course of fate,<br />And +to the leaders says, ‘Proceed’ or ‘Wait.’</p> +<p>And best of all, she will bring holy faith<br />To penetrate the +shadowy world of death,<br /> And show the road beyond +it, bright and broad,<br /> That leads straight up +to God.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CERTITUDE</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>There was a time when I was confident<br />That God’s stupendous +mystery of birth<br />Was mine to know. The wonder of it lent<br />New +ecstasy and glory to the earth.<br />I heard no voice that uttered it +aloud,<br />Nor was it written for me on a scroll;<br />Yet, if alone +or in the common crowd,<br />I felt myself a consecrated soul.<br />My +child leaped in its dark and silent room<br />And cried, ‘I am,’ +though all unheard by men.<br />So leaps my spirit in the body’s +gloom<br />And cries, ‘I live! I shall be born again.’<br />Elate +with certitude towards death I go,<br />Nor doubt, nor argue, since +I know, I know!</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>COMPASSION</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>He was a failure, and one day he died.<br /> Across +the border of the mapless land<br />He found himself among a sad-eyed +band<br />Of disappointed souls; they, too, had tried<br />And missed +their purpose. With one voice they cried<br /> Unto +the shining Angel in command:<br /> ‘Oh, lead +us not before our Lord to stand,<br />For we are failures, failures! +Let us hide.’</p> +<p>Yet on the Angel fared, until they stood<br /> Before +the Master. (Even His holy place<br />The hideous noises of the +earth assailed.)<br />Christ reached His arms out to the trembling brood,<br /> With +God’s vast sorrow in His listening face.<br />Come unto Me,’ +He said; ‘I, too, have failed.’</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>LOVE</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Dreaming of love, the ardent mind of youth<br /> Conceives +it one with passion’s brief delights,<br />With keen desire and +rapture. But, in truth,<br /> These are but milestones +to sublime heights<br />After the highways, swept by strong emotions,<br /> Where +wild winds blow and blazing sun rays beat,<br />After the billows of +tempestuous oceans,<br /> Fair mountain summits wait +the lover’s feet.</p> +<p>The path is narrow, but the view is wide,<br /> And +beauteous the outlook towards the west<br />Happy are they who walk +there side by side,<br /> Leaving below the valleys +of unrest,<br />And on the radiant altitudes above<br />Know the serene +intensity of love.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>THREE SOULS</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Three Souls there were that reached the Heavenly Gate,<br />And gained +permission of the Guard to wait.<br />Barred from the bliss of Paradise +by sin,<br />They did not ask or hope to enter in.<br />‘We loved +one woman (thus their story ran);<br />We lost her, for she chose another +man.<br />So great our love, it brought us to this door;<br />We only +ask to see her face once more.<br />Then will we go to realms where +we belong,<br />And pay our penalty for doing wrong.’</p> +<p>‘And wert thou friends on earth?’ (The Guard spake +thus.)<br />‘Nay, we were foes; but Death made friends of us.<br />The +dominating thought within each Soul<br />Brought us together, comrades, +to this goal,<br />To see her face, and in its radiance bask<br />For +one great moment - that is all we ask.<br />And, having seen her, we +must journey back<br />The path we came - a hard and dangerous track.’<br />‘Wait, +then,’ the Angel said, ‘beside me here,<br />But do not +strive within God’s Gate to peer<br />Nor converse hold with Spirits +clothed in light<br />Who pass this way; thou hast not earned the right.’</p> +<p>They waited year on year. Then, like a flame,<br />News of +the woman’s death from earth-land came.<br />The eager lovers +scanned with hungry eyes<br />Each Soul that passed the Gates of Paradise.<br />The +well-beloved face in vain they sought,<br />Until one day the Guardian +Angel brought<br />A message to them. ‘She has gone,’ +he said,<br />‘Down to the lower regions of the dead;<br />Her +chosen mate went first; so great her love<br />She has resigned the +joys that wait above<br />To dwell with him, until perchance some day,<br />Absolved +from sin, he seeks the Better Way.’</p> +<p>Silent, the lovers turned. The pitying Guard<br />Said: ‘Stay +(the while his hand the door unbarred),<br />There waits for thee no +darker grief or woe;<br />Enter the Gates, and all God’s glories +know.<br />But to be ready for so great a bliss,<br />Pause for a moment +and take heed of this:<br />The dearest treasure by each mortal lost<br />Lies +yonder, when the Threshold has been crossed,<br />And thou shalt find +within that Sacred Place<br />The shining wonder of her worshipped face.<br />All +that is past is but a troubled dream;<br />Go forward now and claim +the Fact Supreme.’</p> +<p>Then clothed like Angels, fitting their estate,<br />Three Souls +went singing, singing through God’s Gate.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>WHEN LOVE IS LOST</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>When love is lost, the day sets towards the night,<br />Albeit the +morning sun may still be bright,<br />And not one cloud-ship sails across +the sky.<br />Yet from the places where it used to lie<br />Gone is +the lustrous glory of the light.</p> +<p>No splendour rests in any mountain height,<br />No scene spreads +fair and beauteous to the sight;<br />All, all seems dull and dreary +to the eye<br /> When love is lost.</p> +<p>Love lends to life its grandeur and its might;<br />Love goes, and +leaves behind it gloom and blight;<br />Like ghosts of time the pallid +hours drag by,<br />And grief’s one happy thought is that we die.<br />Ah, +what can recompense us for its flight<br /> When love +is lost?</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>OCCUPATION</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>There must in heaven be many industries<br />And occupations, varied, +infinite;<br />Or heaven could not be heaven.<br />What gracious tasks<br />The +Mighty Maker of the universe<br />Can offer souls that have prepared +on earth<br />By holding lovely thoughts and fair desires!</p> +<p>Art thou a poet to whom words come not?<br />A dumb composer of unuttered +sounds,<br />Ignored by fame and to the world unknown?<br />Thine may +be, then, the mission to create<br />Immortal lyrics and immortal strains,<br />For +stars to chant together as they swing<br />About the holy centre where +God dwells.</p> +<p>Hast thou the artist instinct with no skill<br />To give it form +or colour? Unto thee<br />It may be given to paint upon the skies<br />Astounding +dawns and sunsets, framed by seas<br />And mountains; or to fashion +and adorn<br />New faces for sweet pansies and new dyes<br />To tint +their velvet garments. Oftentimes<br />Methinks behind a beauteous +flower I see,<br />Or in the tender glory of a dawn,<br />The presence +of some spirit who has gone<br />Into the place of mystery, whose call,<br />Imperious +and compelling, sounds for all<br />Or soon or late. So many have +passed on -<br />So many with ambitions, hopes, and aims<br />Unrealised, +who could not be content<br />As idle angels even in paradise.<br />The +unknown Michelangelos who lived<br />With thoughts on beauty bent while +chained to toil<br />That gave them only bread and burial -<br />These +must find waiting in the world of space<br />The shining timbers of +their splendid dreams,<br />Ready for shaping temples, shrines, and +towers,<br />Where radiant hosts may congregate to raise<br />Their +glad hosannas to the God Supreme.<br />And will there not be gardens +glorious,<br />And mansions all embosomed among blooms,<br />Where heavenly +children reach out loving arms<br />To lonely women who have been denied<br />On +earth the longed-for boon of motherhood?</p> +<p>Surely God has provided work to do<br />For souls like these, and +for the weary, rest.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>THE VALLEY OF FEAR</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>In the journey of life, as we travel along<br />To the mystical goal +that is hidden from sight,<br />You may stumble at times into Roadways +of Wrong,<br />Not seeing the sign-board that points to the right.<br />Through +caverns of sorrow your feet may be led,<br />Where the noon of the day +will like midnight appear.<br />But no matter whither you wander or +tread,<br />Keep out of the Valley of Fear.</p> +<p>The Roadways of Wrong will wind out into light<br />If you sit in +the silence and ask for a Guide;<br />In the caverns of sorrow your +soul gains its sight<br />Of beautiful vistas, ascending and wide.<br />In +by-paths of worry and trouble and strife<br />Full many a bloom grows +bedewed by a tear,<br />But wretched and arid and void of all life<br />Is +the desolate Valley of Fear.</p> +<p>The Valley of Fear is a maddening maze<br />Of paths that wind on +without exit or end,<br />From nowhere to nowhere lead all of its ways,<br />And +shadows with shadows in more shadows blend.<br />Each guide-post is +lettered, ‘This way to Despair,’<br />And the River of Death +in the darkness flows near,<br />But there is a beautiful Roadway of +Prayer<br />This side of the Valley of Fear.</p> +<p>This beautiful Roadway is narrow and steep,<br />And it runs up the +side of the Mountain of Faith.<br />You may not perceive it at first +if you weep,<br />But it rises high over the River of Death.<br />Though +the Roadway is narrow and dark at the base,<br />It widens ascending, +and ever grows clear,<br />Till it shines at the top with the Light +of God’s face,<br />Far, far from the Valley of Fear.</p> +<p>When close to that Valley your footsteps shall fare,<br />Turn, turn +to the Roadway of Prayer -<br />The beautiful Roadway of Prayer.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>WHAT WOULD IT BE?</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Now what were the words of Jesus,<br />And what would He pause and +say,<br />If we were to meet in home or street,<br />The Lord of the +world to-day?<br />Oh, I think He would pause and say:<br />‘Go +on with your chosen labour;<br />Speak only good of your neighbour;<br />Widen +your farms, and lay down your arms,<br />Or dig up the soil with each +sabre.’</p> +<p>Now what were the answer of Jesus<br />If we should ask for a creed,<br />To +carry us straight to the wonderful gate<br />When soul from body is +freed?<br />Oh, I think He would give us this creed:<br />‘Praise +God whatever betide you;<br />Cast joy on the lives beside you;<br />Better +the earth, by growing in worth,<br />With love as the law to guide you.’</p> +<p>Now what were the answer of Jesus<br />If we should ask Him to tell<br />Of +the last great goal of the homing soul<br />Where each of us hopes to +dwell?<br />Oh, I think it is this He would tell:<br />‘The soul +is the builder - then wake it;<br />The mind is the kingdom - then take +it;<br />And thought upon thought let Eden be wrought,<br />For heaven +will be what you make it.’</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>AMERICA</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>I am the refuge of all the oppressed,<br />I am the boast of the +free,<br />I am the harbour where ships may rest<br />Safely ’twixt +sea and sea.<br />I hold up a torch to a darkened world,<br />I lighten +the path with its ray.<br />Let my hand keep steady<br />And let me +be ready<br />For whatever comes my way -<br />Let me be ready.</p> +<p>Oh, better than fortresses, better than guns,<br />Better than lance +or spear,<br />Are the loyal hearts of my daughters and sons,<br />Faithful +and without fear.<br />But my daughters and sons must understand<br /><i>That +Attila did not die.<br /></i>And they must be ready,<br />Their hands +must be steady,<br />If the hosts of hell come nigh -<br />They must +be ready.</p> +<p>If Jesus were back on the earth with men,<br />He would not preach +to-day<br />Until He had made Him a scourge, and again<br />He would +drive the defilers away.<br />He would throw down the tables of lust +and greed<br />And scatter the changers’ gold.<br />He would be +ready,<br />His hand would be steady,<br />As it was in that temple +of old -<br />He would be ready.</p> +<p>I am the cradle of God’s new world,<br />From me shall the +new race rise,<br />And my glorious banner must float unfurled,<br />Unsullied +against the skies.<br />My sons and daughters must be my strength,<br />With +courage to do and to dare,<br />With hearts that are ready,<br />With +hands that are steady,<br />And their slogan must be, PREPARE! -<br />They +must be ready!</p> +<p>With a prayer on the lip they must shoulder arms,<br />For after +all has been said,<br />We must muster guns,<br />If we master Huns +-<br /><i>And Attila is not dead -<br /></i>We must be ready!</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>WAR MOTHERS</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p><i>There is something in the sound of drum and fife<br />That stirs +all the savage instincts into life.</i></p> +<p>In the old times of peace we went our ways,<br />Through proper days<br />Of +little joys and tasks. Lonely at times,<br />When from the steeple +sounded wedding chimes,<br />Telling to all the world some maid was +wife -<br />But taking patiently our part in life<br />As it was portioned +us by Church and State,<br />Believing it our fate.<br /> Our +thoughts all chaste<br />Held yet a secret wish to love and mate<br /> Ere +youth and virtue should go quite to waste.<br />But men we criticised +for lack of strength,<br />And kept them at arm’s length.<br />Then +the war came -<br />The world was all aflame!<br />The men we had thought +dull and void of power<br />Were heroes in an hour.<br />He who had +seemed a slave to petty greed<br />Showed masterful in that great time +of need.<br />He who had plotted for his neighbour’s pelf,<br />Now +for his fellows offers up himself.<br />And we were only women, forced +by war<br />To sacrifice the things worth living for.</p> +<p><i>Something within us broke</i>,<br /><i> Something +within us woke</i>,<br /><i> The +wild cave-woman spoke.</i></p> +<p><i>When we heard the sound of drumming</i>,<br /><i> As +our soldiers went to camp</i>,<br /><i> Heard them +tramp</i>, <i>tramp</i>, <i>tramp;<br />As we watched to see them coming</i>,<br /><i> And +they looked at us and smiled<br /> (Yes</i>, <i>looked +back at us and smiled</i>),<br /><i>As they filed along by hillock and +by hollow</i>,<br /><i> Then our hearts were so beguiled<br /> That</i>, +<i>for many and many a day</i>,<br /><i> We dreamed +we heard them say</i>,<br />‘<i>Oh</i>, <i>follow</i>, <i>follow</i>, +<i>follow</i>!’<br /><i> And the distant</i>, +<i>rolling drum<br /> Called us</i> ‘<i>Come</i>, +<i>come</i>, <i>come</i>!’<br /><i> Till our +virtue seemed a thing to give away.</i></p> +<p>War had swept ten thousand years away from earth.<br /> We +were primal once again.<br /> There were males, not +modern men;<br />We were females meant to bring their sons to birth.<br /> And +we could not wait for any formal rite,<br /> We could +hear them calling to us, ‘Come to-night;<br />For to-morrow, at +the dawn,<br />We move on!’<br /> And the drum<br /> Bellowed, +‘Come, come, come!’<br />And the fife<br />Whistled, ‘Life, +life, life!’</p> +<p>So they moved on and fought and bled and died;<br />Honoured and +mourned, they are the nation’s pride.<br />We fought our battles, +too, but with the tide<br />Of our red blood, we gave the world new +lives.<br />Because we were not wives<br />We are dishonoured. +Is it noble, then,<br />To break God’s laws only by killing men<br />To +save one’s country from destruction?<br />We took no man’s +life but gave our chastity,<br />And sinned the ancient sin<br />To +plant young trees and fill felled forests in.</p> +<p>Oh, clergy of the land,<br />Bible in hand,<br />All reverently you +stand,<br /> On holy thoughts intent<br /> While +barren wives receive the sacrament!<br />Had you the open visions you +could see<br /> Phantoms of infants murdered in the +womb,<br /> Who never knew a cradle or a tomb,<br />Hovering +about these wives accusingly.</p> +<p>Bestow the sacrament! Their sins are not well known -<br />Ours +to the four winds of the earth are blown.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>A HOLIDAY</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Berlin, Germany, gave the school children a half holiday to celebrate +the sinking of the <i>Lusitania.</i></p> +<p>War declares a holiday;<br />Little children, run and play.<br />Ring-a-rosy +round the earth<br />With the garland of your mirth.</p> +<p>Shrill a song brim full of glee<br />Of a great ship sunk at sea.<br />Tell +with pleasure and with pride<br />How a hundred children died.</p> +<p>Sing of orphan babes, whose cries<br />Beat against unanswering skies;<br />Let +a mother’s mad despair<br />Lend staccato to your air.</p> +<p>Sing of babes who drowned alone;<br />Sing of headstones, marked +‘Unknown’;<br />Sing of homes made desolate<br />Where the +stricken mourners wait.</p> +<p>Sing of battered corpses tossed<br />By the heedless waves, and lost.<br />Run, +sweet children, sing and play;<br />War declares a holiday.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>THE UNDERTONE</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>When I was very young I used to feel the dark despairs of youth;<br />Out +of my little griefs I would invent great tragedies and woes;<br />Not +only for myself, but for all those I held most dear<br />I would invent +vast sorrows in my melancholy moods of thought.<br />Yet down deep, +deep in my heart there was an undertone of rapture.<br />It was like +a voice from some other world calling softly to me,<br />Saying things +joyful.</p> +<p>As I grew older, and Life offered bitter gall for me to drink,<br />Forcing +it through clenched teeth when I refused to take it willingly;<br />When +Pain prepared some special anguish for my heart to bear,<br />And all +the things I longed for seemed to be wholly beyond my reach -<br />Yet +down deep, deep in my heart there was an undertone of rapture.<br />It +was like a Voice, a Voice from some other world calling to me,<br />Bringing +glad tidings.</p> +<p>Now when I look about me, and see the great injustices of men,<br />See +Idleness and Greed waited upon by luxury and mirth,<br />See prosperous +Vice ride by in state, while footsore Virtue walks;<br />Now when I +hear the cry of need rise up from lands of shameful wealth -<br />Yet +down deep, deep in my heart there is an undertone of rapture.<br />It +is like a Voice - it is a Voice - calling to me and saying:<br />‘Love +rules triumphant.’</p> +<p>Now when each mile-post on the path of life seems marked by headstones,<br />And +one by one dear faces that I loved are hid away from sight;<br />Now +when in each familiar home I see a vacant chair,<br />And in the throngs +once formed of friends I meet unrecognising eyes -<br />Yet down deep, +deep in my heart there is an undertone of rapture.<br />It is the Voice, +it is the Voice for ever saying unto me:<br />‘Life is Eternal.’</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>GYPSYING</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Gypsying, gypsying, through the world together,<br />Never mind the +way we go, never mind what port.<br />Follow trails, or fashion sails, +start in any weather:<br />While we journey hand in hand, everything +is sport.</p> +<p>Gypsying, gypsying, leaving care and worry:<br />Never mind the ‘if’ +and ‘but’ (words for coward lips).<br />Put them out with +‘fear’ and ‘doubt,’ in the pack with ‘hurry,’<br />While +we stroll like vagabonds forth to trails, or ships.</p> +<p>Gypsying, gypsying, just where fancy calls us;<br />Never mind what +others say, or what others do.<br />Everywhere or foul or fair, liking +what befalls us:<br />While you have me at your side, and while I have +you.</p> +<p>Gypsying, gypsying, camp by hill or hollow;<br />Never mind the why +of it, since it suits our mood.<br />Go or stay, and pay our way, and +let those who follow<br />Find, upspringing from the soil, some small +seed of good.</p> +<p>Gypsying, gypsying, through the world we wander:<br />Never mind +the rushing years, that have come and gone.<br />There must be for you +and me, lying over Yonder,<br />Other lands, where side by side we can +gypsy on.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>SONG OF THE ROAD</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>I am a Road; a good road, fair and smooth and broad;<br /> And +I link with my beautiful tether<br /> Town and Country +together,<br />Like a ribbon rolled on the earth, from the reel of God.<br /> Oh, +great the life of a Road!</p> +<p>I am a Road; a long road, leading on and on;<br /> And +I cry to the world to follow,<br /> Past meadow and +hill and hollow,<br />Through desolate night, to the open gates of dawn.<br /> Oh, +bold the life of a Road!</p> +<p>I am a Road; a kind road, shaped by strong hands.<br /> I +make strange cities neighbours;<br /> The poor grow +rich with my labours,<br />And beauty and comfort follow me through +the lands.<br /> Oh, glad the life of a Road!</p> +<p>I am a Road; a wise road, knowing all men’s ways;<br /> And +I know how each heart reaches<br /> For the things +dear Nature teaches;<br />And I am the path that leads into green young +Mays.<br /> Oh, sweet the life of a Road!</p> +<p>I am a Road; and I speed away from the slums,<br /> Away +from desolate places,<br /> Away from unused spaces;<br />Wherever +I go, there order from chaos comes.<br /> Oh, brave +the life of a Road!</p> +<p>I am a Road; and I would make the whole world one.<br /> I +would give hope to duty,<br /> And cover the earth +with beauty.<br />Do you not see, O men! how all this might be done?<br /> So +vast the power of the Road!</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>THE FAITH WE NEED</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Too tall our structures, and too swift our pace;<br />Not so we mount, +not so we gain the race.<br />Too loud the voice of commerce in the +land;<br />Not so truth speaks, not so we understand.<br />Too vast +our conquests, and too large our gains;<br />Not so comes peace, not +so the soul attains.</p> +<p>But the need of the world is a faith that will live anywhere;<br />In +the still dark depths of the woods, or out in the sun’s full glare.<br />A +faith that can hear God’s voice, alike in the quiet glen,<br />Or +in the roar of the street, and over the noises of men.</p> +<p>And the need of the world is a creed that is founded on joy;<br />A +creed with the turrets of hope and trust, no winds can destroy;<br />A +creed where the soul finds rest, whatever this life bestows,<br />And +dwells undoubting and unafraid, because it knows, it knows.</p> +<p>And the need of the world is love that burns in the heart like flame;<br />A +love for the Giver of Life, in sorrow or joy the same;<br />A love that +blazes a trail to Go through the dark and the cold,<br />Or keeps the +pathway that leads to Him clean, through glory and gold.</p> +<p>For the faith that can only thrive or grow in the solitude,<br />And +droops and dies in the marts of men, where sights and sounds are rude;<br />That +is not a faith at all, but a dream of a mystic’s heart;<br />Our +faith should point as the compass points, whatever be the chart.</p> +<p>Our faith must find its centre of peace in a babel of noise;<br />In +the changing ways of the world of men it must keep its poise;<br />And +over the sorrowing sounds of earth it must hear God’s call;<br />And +the faith that cannot do all this, that is not faith at all.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>THE PRICE HE PAID</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>I said I would have my fling,<br /> And do what +a young man may;<br />And I didn’t believe a thing<br /> That +the parsons have to say.<br />I didn’t believe in a God<br /> That +gives us blood like fire,<br />Then flings us into hell because<br /> We +answer the call of desire.</p> +<p>And I said: ‘Religion is rot,<br /> And the +laws of the world are nil;<br />For the bad man is he who is caught<br /> And +cannot foot his bill.<br />And there is no place called hell;<br /> And +heaven is only a truth<br />When a man has his way with a maid,<br /> In +the fresh keen hour of youth.</p> +<p>‘And money can buy us grace,<br /> If it rings +on the plate of the church:<br />And money can neatly erase<br /> Each +sign of a sinful smirch.’<br />For I saw men everywhere,<br /> Hotfooting +the road of vice;<br />And women and preachers smiled on them<br /> As +long as they paid the price.</p> +<p>So I had my joy of life:<br /> I went the pace of +the town;<br />And then I took me a wife,<br /> And +started to settle down.<br />I had gold enough and to spare<br /> For +all of the simple joys<br />That belong with a house and a home<br /> And +a brood of girls and boys.</p> +<p>I married a girl with health<br /> And virtue and +spotless fame.<br />I gave in exchange my wealth<br /> And +a proud old family name.<br />And I gave her the love of a heart<br /> Grown +sated and sick of sin!<br />My deal with the devil was all cleaned up,<br /> And +the last bill handed in.</p> +<p>She was going to bring me a child,<br /> And when +in labour she cried<br />With love and fear I was wild -<br /> But +now I wish she had died.<br />For the son she bore me was blind<br /> And +crippled and weak and sore!<br />And his mother was left a wreck.<br /> It +was so she settled my score.</p> +<p>I said I must have my fling,<br /> And they knew +the path I would go;<br />Yet no one told me a thing<br /> Of +what I needed to know.<br />Folks talk too much of a soul<br /> From +heavenly joys debarred -<br />And not enough of the babes unborn,<br /> By +the sins of their fathers scarred.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>DIVORCED</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Thinking of one thing all day long, at night<br />I fall asleep, +brain weary and heart sore;<br />But only for a little while. +At three,<br />Sometimes at two o’clock, I wake and lie,<br />Staring +out into darkness; while my thoughts<br />Begin the weary treadmill-toil +again,<br />From that white marriage morning of our youth<br />Down +to this dreadful hour.</p> +<p> I see your face<br />Lit with +the lovelight of the honeymoon;<br />I hear your voice, that lingered +on my name<br />As if it loved each letter; and I feel<br />The clinging +of your arms about my form,<br />Your kisses on my cheek - and long +to break<br />The anguish of such memories with tears,<br />But cannot +weep; the fountain has run dry.</p> +<p>We were so young, so happy, and so full<br />Of keen sweet joy of +life. I had no wish<br />Outside your pleasure; and you loved +me so<br />That when I sometimes felt a woman’s need<br />For +more serene expression of man’s love<br />(The need to rest in +calm affection’s bay<br />And not sail ever on the stormy main),<br />Yet +would I rouse myself to your desire;<br />Meet ardent kiss with kisses +just as warm;<br />So nothing I could give should be denied.</p> +<p>And then our children came. Deep in my soul,<br />From the +first hour of conscious motherhood,<br />I knew I should conserve myself +for this<br />Most holy office; knew God meant it so.<br />Yet even +then, I held your wishes first;<br />And by my double duties lost the +bloom<br />And freshness of my beauty; and beheld<br />A look of disapproval +in your eyes.<br />But with the coming of our precious child,<br />The +lover’s smile, tinged with the father’s pride,<br />Returned +again; and helped to make me strong;<br />And life was very sweet for +both of us.</p> +<p>Another, and another birth, and twice<br />The little white hearse +paused beside our door<br />And took away some portion of my youth<br />With +my sweet babies. At the first you seemed<br />To suffer with me, +standing very near;<br />But when I wept too long, you turned away.<br />And +I was hurt, not realising then<br />My grief was selfish. I could +see the change<br />Which motherhood and sorrow made in me;<br />And +when I saw the change that came to you,<br />Saw how your eyes looked +past me when you talked,<br />And when I missed the love tone from your +voice,<br />I did that foolish thing weak women do,<br />Complained +and cried, accused you of neglect,<br />And made myself obnoxious in +your sight.</p> +<p>And often, after you had left my side,<br />Alone I stood before +my mirror, mad<br />With anger at my pallid cheeks, my dull<br />Unlighted +eyes, my shrunken mother-breasts,<br />And wept, and wept, and faded +more and more.<br />How could I hope to win back wandering love,<br />And +make new flames in dying embers leap,<br />By such ungracious means?</p> +<p> And then She came,<br />Firm-bosomed, +round of cheek, with such young eyes,<br />And all the ways of youth. +I who had died<br />A thousand deaths, in waiting the return<br />Of +that old love-look to your face once more,<br />Died yet again and went +straight into hell<br />When I beheld it come at her approach.</p> +<p>My God, my God, how have I borne it all!<br />Yet since she had the +power to wake that look -<br />The power to sweep the ashes from your +heart<br />Of burned-out love of me, and light new fires,<br />One thing +remained for me - to let you go.<br />I had no wish to keep the empty +frame<br />From which the priceless picture had been wrenched.<br />Nor +do I blame you; it was not your fault:<br />You gave me all that most +men can give - love<br />Of youth, of beauty, and of passion; and<br />I +gave you full return; my womanhood<br />Matched well your manhood. +Yet had you grown ill,<br />Or old, and unattractive from some cause<br />(Less +close than was my service unto you),<br />I should have clung the tighter +to you, dear;<br />And loved you, loved you, loved you more and more.</p> +<p>I grow so weary thinking of these things;<br />Day in, day out; and +half the awful nights.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>THE REVEALING ANGELS</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Suddenly and without warning they came -<br />The Revealing Angels +came.<br />Suddenly and simultaneously, through city streets,<br />Through +quiet lanes and country roads they walked.<br />They walked crying: +‘God has sent us to find<br />The vilest sinners of earth.<br />We +are to bring them before Him, before the Lord of Life.’</p> +<p>Their voices were like bugles;<br />And then all war, all strife,<br />And +all the noises of the world grew still;<br />And no one talked;<br />And +no one toiled, but many strove to flee away.<br />Robbers and thieves, +and those sunk in drunkenness and crime,<br />Men and women of evil +repute,<br />And mothers with fatherless children in their arms, all +strove to hide.<br />But the Revealing Angels passed them by,<br />Saying: +‘Not you, not you.<br />Another day, when we shall come again<br />Unto +the haunts of men,<br />Then we will call your names;<br />But God has +asked us first to bring to him<br />Those guilty of greater shames<br />Than +lust, or theft, or drunkenness, or vice -<br />Yea, greater than murder +done in passion,<br />Or self-destruction done in dark despair.<br />Now +in His Holy Name we call:<br />Come one and all<br />Come forth; reveal +your faces.’</p> +<p>Then through the awful silence of the world,<br />Where noise had +ceased, they came -<br />The sinful hosts.<br />They came from lowly +and from lofty places,<br />Some poorly clad, but many clothed like +queens;<br />They came from scenes of revel and from toil;<br />From +haunts of sin, from palaces, from homes,<br />From boudoirs, and from +churches.<br />They came like ghosts -<br /><i>The vast brigades of +women who had slain<br />Their helpless</i>, <i>unborn children</i>. +With them trailed<br />Lovers and husbands who had said, ‘Do this,’<br />And +those who helped for hire.<br />They stood before the Angels - before +the Revealing<br />Angels they stood.<br />And they heard the Angels +say,<br />And all the listening world heard the Angels say:<br />‘These +are the vilest sinners of all;<br />For the Lord of Life made sex that +birth might come;<br />Made sex and its keen compelling desire<br />To +fashion bodies wherein souls might go<br />From lower planes to higher,<br />Until +the end is reached (which is Beginning).<br />They have stolen the costly +pleasures of the senses<br />And refused to pay God’s price.<br />They +have come together, these men and these women,<br />As male and female +they have come together<br />In the great creative act.<br />They have +invited souls, and then flung them out into space;<br />They have made +a jest of God’s design.<br />All other sins look white beside +this sinning;<br />All other sins may be condoned, forgiven;<br />All +other sinners may be cleansed and shriven;<br />Not these, not these.<br />Pass +on, and meet God’s eyes.’</p> +<p>The vast brigade moved forward, and behind then walked the Angels,<br />Walked +the sorrowful Revealing Angels.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>THE WELL-BORN</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>So many people - people - in the world;<br />So few great souls, +love ordered, well begun,<br />In answer to the fertile mother need!<br />So +few who seem<br />The image of the Maker’s mortal dream;<br />So +many born of mere propinquity -<br />Of lustful habit, or of accident.<br />Their +mothers felt<br />No mighty, all-compelling wish to see<br />Their bosoms +garden-places<br />Abloom with flower faces;<br />No tidal wave swept +o’er them with its flood;<br />No thrill of flesh or heart; no +leap of blood;<br />No glowing fire, flaming to white desire<br />For +mating and for motherhood:<br />Yet they bore children.<br />God! how +mankind misuses Thy command,<br />To populate the earth!<br />How low +is brought high birth!<br />How low the woman; when, inert as spawn<br />Left +on the sands to fertilise,<br />She is the means through which the race +goes on!<br />Not so the first intent.<br />Birth, as the Supreme Mind +conceived it, meant<br />The clear imperious call of mate to mate<br />And +the clear answer. Only thus and then<br />Are fine, well-ordered, +and potential lives<br />Brought into being. Not by Church or +State<br />Can birth be made legitimate,<br />Unless<br />Love in its +fulness bless.<br />Creation so ordains its lofty laws<br />That man, +while greater in all other things,<br />Is lesser in the generative +cause.<br />The father may be merely man, the male;<br />Yet more than +female must the mother be.<br />The woman who would fashion<br />Souls, +for the use of earth and angels meet,<br />Must entertain a high and +holy passion.<br />Not rank, or wealth, or influence of kings<br />Can +give a soul its dower<br />Of majesty and power,<br />Unless the mother +brings<br />Great love to that great hour.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>SISTERS OF MINE</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Sisters, sisters of mine, have we done what we could<br />In all +the old ways, through all the new days,<br />To better the race and +to make life sweet and good?<br />Have we played the full part that +was ours in the start,<br />Sisters of mine?</p> +<p>Sisters, sisters of mine, as we hurry along<br />To a larger world, +with our banners unfurled,<br />The battle-cry on lips where once was +Love’s old song,<br />Are we leaving behind better things than +we find,<br />Sisters of mine?</p> +<p>Sisters, sisters of mine, through the march in the street,<br />Through +turmoil and din, without, and within,<br />As we gain something big +do we lose something sweet?<br />In the growth of our might is our grace +lost to sight?<br />As new powers unfold do we <i>love</i> as of old,<br />Sisters +of mine?</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>ANSWER</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>O well have we done the old tasks! in the old, old ways of earth.<br />We +have kept the house in order, we have given the children birth;<br />And +our sons went out with their fathers, and left us alone at the hearth!</p> +<p>We have cooked the meats for their table; we have woven their cloth +at the loom;<br />We have pulled the weeds from their gardens, and kept +the flowers in bloom;<br />And then we have sat and waited, alone in +a silent room.</p> +<p>We have borne all the pains of travail in giving life to the race;<br />We +have toiled and saved, for the masters, and helped them to power and +place;<br />And when we asked for a pittance, they gave it with grudging +grace.</p> +<p>On the bold, bright face of the dollar all the evils of earth are +shown.<br />We are weary of love that is barter, and of virtue that +pines alone;<br />We are out in the world with the masters: we are finding +and claiming our own!</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>THE GRADUATES</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>I saw them beautiful, in fair array upon Commencement Day;<br />Lissome +and lovely, radiant and sweet<br />As cultured roses, brought to their +estate<br />By careful training. Finished and complete<br />(As +teachers calculate).</p> +<p>They passed in maiden grace along the aisle,<br />Leaving the chaste +white sunlight of a smile<br />Upon the gazing throng.<br />Musing I +thought upon their place as mothers of the race.</p> +<p>Oh there are many actors who can play<br />Greatly, great parts; +but rare indeed the soul<br />Who can be great when cast for some small +rôle;<br />Yet that is what the world most needs; big hearts<br />That +will shine forth and glorify poor parts<br />In this strange drama, +Life! Do they,<br />Who in full dress-rehearsal pass to-day<br />Before +admiring eyes, hold in their store<br />Those fine high principles which +keep old Earth<br />From being only earth; and make men more<br />Than +just mere men? How will they prove their worth<br />Of years of +study? Will they walk abroad<br />Decked with the plumage of dead +bards of God,<br />The glorious birds? And shall the lamb unborn<br />Be +slain on altars of their vanity?<br />To some frail sister who has missed +the way<br />Will they give Christ’s compassion, or man’s +scorn;<br />And will clean manhood, linked with honest love,<br />The +victor prove,<br />When riches, gained by greed, dispute the claim?<br />Will +they guard well a husband’s home and name.<br />Or lean down from +their altitudes to hear<br />The voice of flattery speak in the ear<br />Those +lying platitudes which men repeat<br />To listening Self-Conceit?<br />Musing +I thought upon their place as mothers of the race,<br />As beautiful +they passed in maiden grace.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>THE SILENT TRAGEDY</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>The deepest tragedies of life are not<br />Put into books, or acted +on the stage.<br />Nay, they are lived in silence, by tense hearts<br />In +homes, among dull unperceiving kin,<br />And thoughtless friends, who +make a whip of words<br />Wherewith to lash these hearts, and call it +wit.</p> +<p>There is a tragedy lived everywhere<br />In Christian lands, by an +increasing horde<br />Of women martyrs to our social laws.<br />Women +whose hearts cry out for motherhood;<br />Women whose bosoms ache for +little heads;<br />Women God meant for mothers, but whose lives<br />Have +been restrained, restricted, and denied<br />Their natural channels, +till at last they stand<br />Unmated and alone, by that sad sea<br />Whose +slow receding tide returns no more.<br />Men meet great sorrows; but +no man can grasp<br />The depth, and height, of such a grief as this.</p> +<p>The call of Fatherhood is from man’s brain.<br />Man cannot +know the answer to that call<br />Save as a woman tells him. But +to her<br />The call of Motherhood is from the soul,<br />The brain, +the body. She is like a plant<br />Which buds and blossoms only +to bear fruit.<br />Man is the pollen, carried by the wind<br />Of accident, +or impulse, or desire;<br />And then his role of fatherhood is played.<br />Her +threefold knowledge of maternity,<br />Through three times three great +months, is hers alone.</p> +<p>Man as an egotist is wounded when<br />He is not father. Woman +when denied<br />The all-embracing rôle of motherhood<br />Rebels +with her whole being. Oftentimes<br />Rebellion finds its only +utterance<br />In shattered nerves, and lack of self-control;<br />Which +gives the merry world its chance to cry<br />‘Old maids are queer.’<br /> In +far off Eastern lands</p> +<p>They think of God as Mother to the race;<br />Father and Mother of +the Universe.<br />And mayhap this is why they make their girls<br />Wives +prematurely, mothers over young,<br />Hoping to please their Mother +God this way.<br />Since everywhere in Nature sex is shown<br />For +procreative uses, they contend<br />Sterility is sinful. (Save +when one<br />Chooses a life of Saintship here on earth,<br />And so +conserves all forces to that end.)</p> +<p>Here in the West, our God is Masculine;<br />And while we say He +bade a Virgin bring<br />His Son to birth, we think of Him as One<br />Placing +false values on forced continence -<br />Preparing heavens for those +who live that life -<br />And hells for those who stray by thought or +act<br />From the unnatural path our laws have made.</p> +<p>Mother of Christ, thou being woman, thou<br />Knowing all depths +within the woman heart,<br />All joy, all pain, oh send the world more +light.<br />Enlarge our sympathies; and let our minds<br />Turn from +achievements of material things<br />To contemplation of Eternal truths.<br />Space +throbs with egos, waiting for rebirth;<br />And mother-hearted women +fill the earth.<br />Mother of Christ, show us the way to thin<br />The +ranks of childless women, without sin.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>THE TRINITY</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Much may be done with the world we are in,<br />Much with the race +to better it;<br />We can unfetter it,<br />Free it from chains of the +old traditions;<br />Broaden its viewpoint of virtue and sin;<br />Change +its conditions<br />Of labour and wealth;<br />And open new roadways +to knowledge and health.<br /><i>Yet some things ever must stay as they +are<br />While the sea has its tide and the sky has its star.<br /></i>A +man and a woman with love between,<br />Loyal and tender and true and +clean,<br />Nothing better has been or can be<br />Than just those three.</p> +<p>Woman may alter the first great plan.<br />Daughters and sisters +and mothers<br />May stalk with their brothers<br />Forth from their +homes into noisy places<br />Fit (and fit only) for masculine man.<br />Marring +their graces<br />With conflict and strife<br />To widen the outlook +of all human life.<br /><i>Yet some things ever must stay as they are<br />While +the sea has its tide and the sky has its star.<br /></i>A man and a +woman with love that strengthens<br />And gathers new force as its earth +way lengthens;<br />Nothing better by God is given<br />This side of +heaven.</p> +<p>Science may show us a wonderful vast<br />Secret of life and of breeding +it;<br />Man by the heeding it<br />Out of earth’s chaos may bring +a new order.<br />Off with old systems, old laws may be cast.<br />What +now seems the border<br />Of licence in creeds,<br />May then be the +centre of thoughts and of deeds.<br /><i>Yet some things ever must stay +as they are<br />While the sea has its tide and the sky has its star.<br /></i>A +man and a woman and love undefiled<br />And the look of the two in the +face of a child, -<br />Oh, the joys of this world have their changing +ways,<br />But this joy stays.<br />Nothing better on earth can be<br />Than +just those three.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>THE UNWED MOTHER TO THE WIFE</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>I had been almost happy for an hour,<br />Lost to the world that +knew me in the park<br />Among strange faces; while my little girl<br />Leaped +with the squirrels, chirruped with the birds<br />And with the sunlight +glowed. She was so dear,<br />So beautiful, so sweet; and for +the time<br />The rose of love, shorn of its thorn of shame,<br />Bloomed +in my heart. Then suddenly you passed.<br />I sat alone upon the +public bench;<br />You, with your lawful husband, rode in state;<br />And +when your eyes fell on me and my child,<br />They were not eyes, but +daggers, poison tipped.</p> +<p>God! how good women slaughter with a look!<br />And, like cold steel, +your glance cut through my heart,<br />Struck every petal from the rose +of love<br />And left the ragged stalk alive with thorns.</p> +<p>My little one came running to my side<br />And called me Mother. +It was like a blow<br />Between the eyes; and made me sick with pain.<br />And +then it seemed as if each bird and breeze<br />Took up the word, and +changed its syllables<br />From Mother into Magdalene; and cried<br />My +shame to all the world.</p> +<p> It was your eyes<br />Which did +all this. But listen now to me<br />(Not you alone, but all the +barren wives<br />Who, like you, flaunt their virtue in the face<br />Of +fallen women): I do chance to know<br />The crimes you think are hidden +from all men<br />(Save one who took your gold and sold his skill<br />And +jeopardized his name for your base ends).</p> +<p>I know how you have sunk your soul in sense<br />Like any wanton; +and refused to bear<br />The harvest of your pleasure-planted seed;<br />I +know how you have crushed the tender bud<br />Which held a soul; how +you have blighted it;<br />And made the holy miracle of birth<br />A +wicked travesty of God’s design;<br />Yea, many buds, which might +be blossoms now<br />And beautify your selfish, arid life,<br />Have +been destroyed, because you chose to keep<br />The aimless freedom, +and the purposeless,<br />Self-seeking liberty of childless wives.</p> +<p>I was an untaught girl. By nature led,<br />By love and passion +blinded, I became<br />An unwed mother. You, an honoured wife,<br />Refuse +the crown of motherhood, defy<br />The laws of nature, and fling baby +souls<br />Back in the face of God. And yet you dare<br />Call +me a sinner, and yourself a saint;<br />And all the world smiles on +you, and its doors<br />Swing wide at your approach.<br /> I +stand outside.</p> +<p>Surely there must be higher courts than earth,<br />Where you and +I will some day meet and be<br />Weighed by a larger justice.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>FATHER AND SON</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>My grand-dame, vigorous at eighty-one,<br />Delights in talking of +her only son,<br />My gallant father, long since dead and gone.<br />‘Ah, +but he was the lad!’<br />She says, and sighs, and looks at me +askance.<br />How well I read the meaning of that glance -<br /> ‘Poor +son of such a dad;<br /> Poor weakling, dull and sad.’<br />I +could, but would not tell her bitter truth<br />About my father’s +youth.</p> +<p>She says: ‘Your father laughed his way through earth:<br />He +laughed right in the doctor’s face at birth,<br />Such joy of +life he had, such founts of mirth.<br /> Ah, what a +lad was he!’<br />And then she sighs. I feel her silent +blame,<br />Because I brought her nothing but his name.<br /> Because +she does not see<br /> Her worshipped son in me.<br />I +could, but would not, speak in my defence,<br />Anent the difference.</p> +<p>She says: ‘He won all prizes in his time:<br />He overworked, +and died before his prime.<br />At high ambition’s door I lay +the crime.<br /> Ah, what a lad he was!’<br />Well, +let her rest in that deceiving thought,<br />Of what avail to say, ‘His +death was brought<br /> By broken sexual laws,<br /> The +ancient sinful cause.’<br />I could, but would not, tell the good +old dame<br />The story of his shame.</p> +<p>I could say: ‘I am crippled, weak, and pale,<br />Because my +father was an unleashed male.<br />Because he ran so fast, I halt and +fail<br /> (Ah, yes, he was the lad),<br />Because +he drained each cup of sense-delight<br />I must go thirsting, thirsting, +day and night.<br /> Because he was joy-mad,<br /> I +must be always sad.</p> +<p>Because he learned no law of self-control,<br />I am a blighted soul.’<br /> Of +what avail to speak and spoil her joy.<br />Better to see her disapproving +eyes,<br />And silent, hear her say, between her sighs,<br /> ‘Ah, +but he was the boy!’</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>HUSKS</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>She looked at her neighbour’s house in the light of the waning +day -<br />A shower of rice on the steps, and the shreds of a bride’s +bouquet.<br />And then she drew the shade, to shut out the growing gloom,<br />But +she shut it into her heart instead. (Was that a voice in the room?)</p> +<p>‘My neighbour is sad,’ she sighed, ‘like the mother +bird who sees<br />The last of her brood fly out of the nest to make +its home in the trees’ -<br />And then in a passion of tears - +‘But, oh, to be sad like her:<br />Sad for a joy that has come +and gone!’ (Did some one speak, or stir?)</p> +<p>She looked at her faded hands, all burdened with costly rings;<br />She +looked on her widowed home, all burdened with priceless things.<br />She +thought of the dead years gone, of the empty years ahead -<br />(Yes, +something stirred and something spake, and this was what it said:)</p> +<p><i>‘The voice of the Might Have Been speaks here through the +lonely dusk;<br />Life offered the fruits of love; you gathered only +the husk.<br />There are jewels ablaze on your breast where never a +child has slept</i>.’<br />She covered her face with her ringed +old hands, and wept and wept and wept.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>MEDITATIONS</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>HIS</p> +<p>I was so proud of you last night, dear girl,<br />While man with +man was striving for your smile.<br />You never lost your head, nor +once dropped down<br />From your high place<br />As queen in that gay +whirl.</p> +<p>(It takes more poise to wear a little crown<br />With modesty and +grace<br />Than to adorn the lordlier thrones of earth.)</p> +<p>You seem so free from artifice and wile:<br />And in your eyes I +read<br />Encouragement to my unspoken thought.<br />My heart is eloquent +with words to plead<br />Its cause of passion; but my questioning mind,<br />Knowing +how love is blind,<br />Dwells on the pros and cons, and God knows what.</p> +<p>My heart cries with each beat,<br />‘She is so beautiful, so +pure, so sweet,<br />So more than dear.’<br />And then I hear<br />The +voice of Reason, asking: ‘Would she meet<br />Life’s common +duties with good common sense?<br />Could she bear quiet evenings at +your hearth,<br />And not be sighing for gay scenes of mirth?<br />If, +some great day, love’s mighty recompense<br />For chastity surrendered +came to her,<br />If she felt stir<br />Beneath her heart a little pulse +of life,<br />Would she rejoice with holy pride and wonder,<br />And +find new glory in the name of wife?<br />Or would she plot with sin, +and seek to plunder<br />Love’s sanctuary, and cast away its treasure,<br />That +she might keep her freedom and her pleasure?<br />Could she be loyal +mate and mother dutiful?<br />Or is she only some bright hothouse bloom,<br />Seedless +and beautiful,<br />Meant just for decoration, and for show?’<br />Alone +here in my room,<br />I hear this voice of Reason. My poor heart<br />Has +ever but one answer to impart,<br />‘I love her so.’</p> +<p>HERS</p> +<p>After the ball last night, when I came home<br />I stood before my +mirror, and took note<br />Of all that men call beautiful. Delight,<br />Keen +sweet delight, possessed me, when I saw<br />My own reflection smiling +on me there,<br />Because your eyes, through all the swirling hours,<br />And +in your slow good-night, had made a fact<br />Of what before I fancied +might be so;<br />Yet knowing how men lie, by look and act,<br />I still +had doubted. But I doubt no more,<br />I know you love me, love +me. And I feel<br />Your satisfaction in my comeliness.</p> +<p>Beauty and youth, good health and willing mind,<br />A spotless reputation, +and a heart<br />Longing for mating and for motherhood,<br />And lips +unsullied by another’s kiss -<br />These are the riches I can +bring to you.</p> +<p>But as I sit here, thinking of it all<br />In the clear light of +morning, sudden fear<br />Has seized upon me. What has been your +past?<br />From out the jungle of old reckless years,<br />May serpents +crawl across our path some day<br />And pierce us with their fangs? +Oh, I am not<br />A prude or bigot; and I have not lived<br />A score +and three full years in ignorance<br />Of human nature. Much I +can condone;<br />For well I know our kinship to the earth<br />And +all created things. Why, even I<br />Have felt the burden of virginity,<br />When +flowers and birds and golden butterflies<br />In early spring were mating; +and I know<br />How loud that call of sex must sound to man<br />Above +the feeble protest of the world.<br />But I can hear from depths within +my soul<br />The voices of my unborn children cry<br />For rightful +heritage. (May God attune<br />The souls of men, that they may +hear and heed<br />That plaintive voice above the call of sex;<br />And +may the world’s weak protest swell into<br />A thunderous diapason +- a demand<br />For cleaner fatherhood.)<br /> Oh, +love, come near;<br />Look in my eyes, and say I need not fear.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>THE TRAVELLER</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Bristling with steeples, high against the hill,<br />Like some great +thistle in the rosy dawn<br />It stood; the Town-of-Christian-Churches, +stood.<br />The Traveller surveyed it with a smile.<br />‘Surely,’ +He said, ‘here is the home of peace;<br />Here neighbour lives +with neighbour in accord;<br />God in the heart of all. Else why +these spires?’<br />(Christmas season, and every bell ringing.)</p> +<p>The sudden shriek of whistles changed the sound<br />From mellow +music into jarring noise.<br />Then down the street pale hurrying children +came,<br />And vanished in the yawning Factory door.<br />He called +to them: ‘Come back, come unto Me.’<br />The Foreman cursed, +and caned Him from the place.<br />(Christmas season, and every bell +ringing.)</p> +<p>Forth from two churches came two men, and met,<br />Disputing loudly +over boundary lines,<br />Hate in their eyes, and murder in their hearts.<br />A +haughty woman drew her skirts aside<br />Because her fallen sister passed +that way.<br />The Traveller rebuked them all. Amazed,<br />They +asked in indignation, ‘Who are you,<br />Daring to interfere in +private lives?’<br />The Traveller replied, ‘My name is +CHRIST.’<br />(Christmas season, and every bell ringing.)</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>I</p> +<p>What have you done, and what are you doing with life, O Man!<br />O +Average Man of the world -<br />Average Man of the Christian world we +call civilised?<br />What have you done to pay for the labour pains +of the mother who bore you?<br />On earth you occupy space; you consume +oxygen from the air:<br />And what do you give in return for these things?<br />Who +is better that you live, and strive, and toil?<br />Or that you live +through the toiling and striving of others?<br />As you pass down the +street does any one look on you and say,<br />‘There goes a good +son, a true husband, a wise father, a fine citizen?<br />A man whose +strong hand is ready to help a neighbour,<br />A man to trust’? +And what do women say of you?<br />Unto their own souls what do women +say?<br />Do they say: ‘He helped to make the road easier for +tired feet?<br />To broaden the narrow horizon for aching eyes?<br />He +helped us to higher ideals of womanhood’?<br />Look into your +own heart and answer, O Average Man of the world,<br />Of the Christian +world we call civilised.</p> +<p>II</p> +<p>What do men think of you, what do they think and say of you,<br />O +Average Woman of the world?<br />Do they say: ‘There is a woman +with a great heart,<br />Loyal to her sex, and above envy and evil speaking?<br />There +is a daughter, wife, mother, with a purpose in life:<br />She can be +trusted to mould the minds of little children.<br />She knows how to +be good without being dull;<br />How to be glad and to make others glad +without descending to folly;<br />She is one who illuminates the path +wherein she walks;<br />One who awakens the best in every human being +she meets’?<br />Look into your heart, O Woman! and answer this:<br />What +are you doing with the beautiful years?<br />Is your to-day a better +thing than was your yesterday?<br />Have you grown in knowledge, grace, +and usefulness?<br />Or are you ravelling out the wonderful fabric knit +by Time,<br />And throwing away the threads?<br />Make answer, O Woman! +Average Woman of the Christian world.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div> +<p>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, POEMS OF PURPOSE ***</p> +<pre> + +******This file should be named ppur10h.htm or ppur10h.zip****** +Corrected EDITIONS of our EBooks get a new NUMBER, ppur11h.htm +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, ppur10ah.htm + +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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