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diff --git a/old/helb10.txt b/old/helb10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ce6433d --- /dev/null +++ b/old/helb10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2819 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Hello, Boys!, by Ella Wheeler Wilcox +(#11 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: Hello, Boys! + +Author: Ella Wheeler Wilcox + +Release Date: October, 2004 [EBook #6666] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on January 10, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, HELLO, BOYS! *** + + + + +Transcribed from the 1919 Gay and Hancock edition by David Price, +email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk + + + + +HELLO, BOYS! + + + + +Contents: + Forward + Thanksgiving + The Brave Highland Laddies + Men of the Sea + Ode to the British Fleet + The German Fleet + Deep unto deep was calling + The Song of the Allies + Ten thousand men a day + "America will not turn back" + War + The Hour + The Message + "Flowers of France" + Our Atlas + Camp Followers + Come Back Clean + Camouflage + The Awakening + The Khaki Boys who were not at the Front + Time's Hymn of Hate + Dear Motherland of France + The Spirit of Great Joan + Speak + The Girl of the U.S.A. + Passing the Buck + Song of the Aviator + The Stevedores + A Song of Home + The Swan of Dijon + Veils + In France I saw a Hill + American Boys, Hello! + De Rochambeau + After + The Blasphemy of Guns + The Crimes of Peace + It May Be + Then and Now + Widows + Conversation + I, too + He that hath ears + Answers + How is it? + 'Let us give thanks' + The Black Sheep + One by one + Prayer + Be not Dismayed + Ascension + The Deadliest Sin + The Rainbow of Promise + They shall not win + + + +FORWARD + + + +The greater part of these verses dealing with the war were written +in France during my recent seven months' sojourn there, and for the +purpose of using in entertainments given in camps and hospitals to +thousands of American soldiers. + +They were the result of coming into close contact with the soldiers' +mind and heart, and were intentionally expressed in the simplest +manner, without any consideration of methods approved by modern +critics. The fact that I have been asked to autograph scores of +copies of many of these verses (and one of them to the extent of 350 +copies) is more gratifying to me than would be the highest encomiums +of the purely literary critic. + +Ella Wheeler Wilcox +London, +October 1918. + + + +THANKSGIVING + + + +Thanksgiving for the strong armed day, +That lifted war's red curse, +When Peace, that lordly little word, +Was uttered in a voice that stirred - +Yea, shook the Universe. + +Thanksgiving for the Mighty Hour +That brimmed the Victor's cup, +When England signalled to the foe, +'The German flag must be brought low +And not again hauled up!' + +Thanksgiving for the sea and air +Free from the Devil's might! +Thanksgiving that the human race +Can lift once more a rev'rent face, +And say, 'God helps the Right.' + +Thanksgiving for our men who came +In Heaven-protected ships, +The waning tide of hope to swell, +With 'Lusitania' and 'Cavell' +As watchwords on their lips. + +Thanksgiving that our splendid dead, +All radiant with youth, +Dwell near to us--there is no death. +Thanksgiving for the broad new faith +That helps us know this truth. + + + +THE BRAVE HIGHLAND LADDIES + + + +I had seen our splendid soldiers in their khaki uniforms, + And their leaders with a Sam Brown belt; +I had seen the fighting Britons and Colonials in swarms, + I had seen the blue-clad Frenchmen, and I felt +That the mighty martial show +Had no new sight to bestow, + Till I walked on Piccadilly, and my word! +By the bonnie Highland laddies +In their kilts and their plaidies, + To a wholly new sensation I was stirred. + +They were like some old-time picture, or a scene from out a play, + They were stalwart, they were young, and debonnair; +Their jaunty little caps they wore in such a fetching way, + And they showed their handsome legs, and didn't care - +And they seemed to own the town +As they strode on up and down - + Oh, they surely were a sight for tired eyes! +Those braw, bonnie laddies +In their kilts and their plaidies, + And I stared at them with pleasure and surprise. + +I had read about the valour of old Scotland's warrior sons - + How they fought to a finish, or else fell; +I had heard the name bestowed on them by agitated Huns, + Who called these skirted soldiers 'Dames of Hell'; +And I gave them right of way +On their London holiday, + As I met them swinging down the street and Strand, +Those bonnie, bonnie laddies +In their kilts and their plaidies, + And I breathed a blessing on them and their land + +Now the world is all rejoicing that the end of war has come - + And no heart is any gladder than my own, +That the brutal, blatant voices of the guns at last are dumb, + And the Dove of Peace from out her cage has flown. +Yet, when men no more march by, +Making pictures for the eye, + There's a vital dash of colour earth will lack, +When the brave Highland laddies +Drop their kilts and their plaidies, + And return to common clothes of grey or black! + + + +MEN OF THE SEA + + + +Many the songs of the brave boys sent +Over The Top in the battle's thunder; +But mine is the song of the men who went +Over the top of the waves--and under. + +Men of the sea, Men of the sea, +I lift mine eyes to the Flags unfurled - +The Flags of Victory blowing free +Over the new-born world. +And I cry 'Thank God! these things can be! +Thank God, and the Men of the Sea!' + +Little it matters to what they belong, +Marine or Navy--or Merchant Ship - +To the Men of the Sea I sing my song; +A song that rises from heart to lip. + +I sing of the valour that ploughed a path +Straight through the snares of a crafty foe, +Through billows raging with wintry wrath, +And over the dens of the devils below. + +To the splendid heroes of Jutland Bank +And the Royal Navy I give their due; +And cheek by jowl with them all, I rank +The brave mine-sweepers and merchant crew. + +Trawler--Drifter--or English Fleet - +All are manned by the Men of the Sea, +And all together in my heart meet, +For a boat is a boat to the mind of me. + +And who ever over the dread seas fared, +And however humble his work or place, +To the great Christ spirit must be compared - +Since he offered his life for the good of the race. + +And how many lie in the deep-sea bed, +No man can reckon, and no man number; +But not one Soul of them all is dead, +For death is only the body's slumber. + +And the Men of the Mist, who from dark to dawn +On the deck or the bridge stand guard at night, +Oft feel the presence of comrades gone +Who keep watch with them, though veiled from sight. + +Many the songs of the brave boys sent +Over The Top in the battle's thunder; +But mine is the song of the men who went +Over the top of the waves--and under. + + + +ODE TO THE BRITISH FLEET + + + +'Invisible and silent'--Mystery +Surrounded that great Guardian of the Sea. +That Father--Mother--of the mighty main. +While loud in valley and on field and hill - +And over anguished plain +The battles thundered. God himself is still +And hidden from men's view; and it were meet +That this subliminal force +Should move in utter silence on its course +Invisible--Inaudible--till that hour +When Time, Fate's Minister, should speak and say - +'Come forth! and show thy power!' +When Time commands, even the gods obey. + +'Invisible and silent'; yet the foe +Was driven from the Sea. All impotent +The brazen braggart went. +While commerce sent her brave ships to and fro; +And from Columbia's shores there sailed away +Ten thousand men a day - +Ten thousand men a day! who reached their goals +Bringing new courage to war-weary souls. + +Oh, silent wonder of the noisy sea! +Though alien, with the blood of Bunker Hill +Down filtering through my veins, the heart of me +Seems with a mingled love and awe to fill +And overflow at thought of that sublime, +Unparalleled large hour of Time; +When bloodless Victory saw the foes' flag furled - +That insolent menace to a righteous world. + +Great Britain's Fleet unshaken in its might, +Proclaimed itself again in all men's sight +The Mistress of the Main. Fair Freedom's friend, +May peace and glory on thy path attend. + + + +THE GERMAN FLEET + + + +Lie down, and let the billows hide your shame, +Oh, shorn and naked outcast of the seas! +You who confided to each ocean breeze +Your coming conquests, and made loud acclaim +Of your own grandeur and exalted fame; +You who have catered to they world's disease; +You who have drunk hate's wine, and found the lees; +Lie down! and let all men forget your name! + +You dreamed of world dominion! you! the spawn +Of hell and hatred--Foe to all things free - +Sworn enemy to honour, truth and right; +Too poor a thing now for the Devil's pawn, +Let the large mercy of the outraged sea +Engulf and hide you evermore from sight. + + + +DEEP UNTO DEEP WAS CALLING + + + +They rode through the bannered city - +The King and the Commoner, +And the hopes of the world were with them, +And the heart of the world was astir. +For the moss-grown walls seemed falling +That have shut away men from Kings; +And Deep unto Deep was calling +For the coming of greater things. + +They rode to an age-old Palace +Where the feet of the Mighty go - +(A Palace that stands unshaken +Despite the boast of the foe!) +And the King from Kings descending - +And the Man of the People's choice +In a Super-Man seemed blending, +And they spoke as with one voice. + +And one voice now and for ever +Will speak from sea to sea, +Wherever the British Banner +And the Starry Flag float free. +For our fettering chains are sundered +By the evil that turned to good, +And Deep unto Deep has thundered +Its message of Brotherhood. + +It was not a pageant of Victors - +Or a triumph hour of man, +That ride through the bannered City, +It was part of a Mighty Plan; +And the sound of old barriers falling +Rose there where those Rulers trod, +For Deep unto Deep was calling +In the resonant Voice of God. + + + +THE SONG OF THE ALLIES + + + +We are the Allies of God to-day, +And the width of the earth is our right of way. +Let no man question or ask us why, +As we speed to answer a wild world cry; +Let no man hinder or ask us where, +As out over water and land we fare; +For whether we hurry, or whether we wait, +We follow the finger of guiding fate. + +We are the Allies. We differ in faith, +But are one in our courage at thought of death. +Many and varied the tongues we speak, +But one and the same is the goal we seek. +And the goal we seek is not power or place, +But the peace of the world, and the good of the race. +And little matters the colour of skin, +When each heart under it beats to win. + +We are the Allies; we fight or fly, +We wallow in trenches like pigs in a sty, +We dive under water to foil a foe, +We wait in quarters, or rise and go. +And staying or going, or near or far, +One thought is ever our guiding star: +We are the Allies of God to-day, +We are the Allies--make way! make way! + + + +TEN THOUSAND MEN A DAY + + + +All the world was wearying, + All the world was sad; +Everything was shadow-filled; + Things were going bad. +Then a rumour stirred all hearts + As a wind stirs trees - +Ten thousand men a day + Coming over seas! + +Soon we saw them marching by - + God! what a sight! - +Shoulders back, and heads erect, + Faces full of light. +Smiling like a morn in May, + Moving like a breeze, +Ten thousand men a day + Coming over seas. + +Weary soldiers worn with war + Lifted up their eyes, +Shadows seemed to fade a bit, + Dawn was in the skies. +Hope sprang to troubled hearts, + Strength to tired knees: +Ten thousand men a day + Were coming over seas. + +France and England swarmed with them, + Khaki-clad and young, +Filled with all the joy of life - + Into line they swung. +Waning valour rose anew + At the sight of these +Ten thousand men a day + Coming over seas. + +Still they come--and still they come + In their strength and pride. +Victory with radiant mien + Marches on beside. +Victory is here to stay, + Every heart agrees, +With ten thousand men a day + Coming over seas. + + + +'AMERICA WILL NOT TURN BACK' +WOODROW WILSON + + + +America will not turn back; + She did not idly start, +But weighed full carefully and well + Her grave, important part. +She chose the part of Freedom's friend, +And will pursue it, to the end. + +Great Liberty, who guards her gates, + Will shine upon her course, +And light the long, adventurous path + With radiance from God's Source. +And though blood dye that ocean track, +America will not turn back. + +She will not turn until that hour + When thunders through the world +The crash of tyrant monarchies + By Freedom's hand down-hurled. +While Labour's voice from sea to sea +Sings loud, 'My country, 'tis of thee.' + +Then will our fair Columbia turn, + While all wars' clamours cease, +And with our banner lifted high + Proclaim, 'Let there be Peace.' +But till that glorious day shall dawn +She will march on, she will march on. + + + +WAR + + + +I + +There is no picturesqueness and no glory, + No halo of romance, in war to-day. + It is a hideous thing; Time would turn grey +With horror, were he not already hoary +At sight of this vile monster, foul and gory. + Yet while sweet women perish as they pray, + And new-born babes are slaughtered, who dare say +'Halt!' till Right pens its 'Finis' to the story! +There is no pathway, but the path through blood, + Out of the horrors of this holocaust. +Hell has let loose its scalding crimson flood, + And he who stops to argue now is lost. +Not brooms of creeds, not Pacifistic words +Can stem the tide, but swords--uplifted swords! + +II + +Yet, after Peace has turned the clean white page + There shall be sorrow on the earth for years; + Abysmal grief, that has no eyes for tears, +And youth that hobbles through the earth like age. +But better to play this part upon life's stage + Than to aid structures that a tyrant rears, + To live a stalwart hireling torn with fears, +And shamed by feeding on a conqueror s wage. +Death, yea, a thousand deaths, were sweet in truth + Rather than such ignoble life. God gave +Being, and breath, and high resolve to youth + That it might be Wrong's master, not its slave. +Our road to Freedom is the road to guns! +Go, arm your sons! I say, Go, arm your sons! + +III + +Arm! arm! that mandate on each wind is whirled. + Let no man hesitate or look askance, + For from the devastated homes of France +And ruined Belgium the cry is hurled. +Why, Christ Himself would keep peace banners furled + Were He among us, till, with lifted lance, + He saw the hosts of Righteousness advance +To purify the Temples of the world. +There is no safety on the earth to-day + For any sacred thing, or clean, or fair; +Nor can there be, until men rise and slay + The hydra-headed monster in his lair. +War! horrid War! now Virtue's only friend; +Clasp hands with War, and battle to the end! + + + +THE HOUR + + + +This is the world's stupendous hour - + The supreme moment for the race +To see the emptiness of power, + The worthlessness of wealth and place, +To see the purpose and the plan +Conceived by God for growing man. + +And they who see and comprehend + That ultimate and lofty aim +Will wait in patience for the end, + Knowing injustice cannot claim +One lasting victory, or control +Laws that bar progress for the whole. + +This is an epoch-making time; + God thunders through the universe +A message glorious and sublime, + At once a blessing and a curse. +Blessings for those who seek His light, +Curses for those whose law is might. + +Ephemeral as the sunset glow + Is human grandeur. Mortal life +Was given that souls might seek and know + Immortal truths; and through the strife +That shakes the earth from land to land +The wise shall hear and understand. + +Out of the awful holocaust, + Out of the whirlwind and the flood, +Out of old creeds to Bedlam tossed, + Shall rise a new earth washed in blood - +A new race filled with spirit power, +This is the world's stupendous hour. + + + +THE MESSAGE + + + +I have not the gift of vision, + I have not the psychic ear, +And the realms that are called Elysian + I neither see nor hear; +Yet oft when the shadows darken + And the daylight hides its face, +The soul of me seems to hearken + For the truths that speak through space. + +They speak to me not through reason, + They speak to me not by word; +Yet my soul would be guilty of treason + If it did not say it had heard. +For Space has a message compelling + To give to the ear of Earth; +And the things which the Silence is telling + In the bosom of God have birth. + +Now this is the truth as I hear it - + That ever through good or ill, +The will of the Ruling Spirit + Is moving and ruling still. +In the clutch of the blood-red terror + That holds the world in its might, +The Race is learning its error + And will find its way to the light. + +And this is the Truth as I see it - + Whoever cries out for peace, +Must think it, and live it, and BE IT, + And the wars of the world will cease. +Men fight that man may awaken, + And no longer want to kill; +Wars rage, and the heavens are shaken + That man may learn how to be still. + +In the silence he finds his Saviour - + The God Who is dwelling within; +And only by Christ-behaviour + Is the soul of him saved from sin. +There is only one Source--no other - + One Light, and each soul is a ray; +And he who would slaughter his brother, + HIMSELF he is seeking to slay. + +Now these are the Truths we are learning + Through evils and horrors untold; +For the thought of the race is turning + Away from its methods of old. +And the mind of the race is sated, + With the things that it prized of yore, +And the monster of war is hated, + As never on earth before. + +Oh, slow are God's mills in the grinding, + But they grind exceedingly small; +And slow is man's soul in the finding, + That he is a part of the All. +Through aeons and aeons, his story + Is bloody and blackened with crime; +But he will come out into glory + And stand on the summits sublime. + +He will stand on the summits of Knowledge, + In the splendour of Light from the Source; +And the methods of church and of college + Will all of them change by his force. +For the creeds that are blind and cruel, + And the teachings by rule and by rod, +Will all be turned into fuel + To light up the pathway to God. + + + +This is the Truth as I hear it - +The clouds are rolling away, +And Spirit will talk with Spirit +In the swift approaching day. +War from the world shall be driven, +From evil shall come forth good; +And men shall make ready for Heaven +Through living in Brotherhood. + + + +'FLOWERS OF FRANCE' +DECORATION POEM FOR SOLDIERS' GRAVES, TOURS, FRANCE, MAY 30, 1918 + + + +Flowers of France in the Spring, +Your growth is a beautiful thing; +But give us your fragrance and bloom - +Yea, give us your lives in truth, +Give us your sweetness and grace +To brighten the resting-place +Of the flower of manhood and youth, +Gone into the dust of the tomb. + +This is the vast stupendous hour of Time, +When nothing counts but sacrifice and faith, +Service and self-forgetfulness. Sublime +And awful are these moments charged with death +And red with slaughter. Yet God's purpose thrives +In all this holocaust of human lives. + +I say God's purpose thrives. Just in the measure +That men have flung away their lust for gain, +Stopped in their mad pursuit of worldly pleasure, +And boldly faced unprecedented pain +And dangers, without thinking of the cost, +So thrives God's purpose in the holocaust. + +Death is a little thing: all men must die; +But when ideals die, God grieves in Heaven. +Therefore I think it was the reason why +This Armageddon to the world was given. +The Soul of man, forgetful of its birth, +Was losing sight of everything but earth. + +Up from these many million graves shall spring, +A shining harvest for the coming race. +An Army of Invisibles shall bring +A glorified lost faith back to its place. +And men shall know there is a higher goal +Than earthly triumphs for the human soul. + +They are not dead--they are not dead, I say, +These men whose mortal forms are in the sod. +A grand Advance-Guard marching on its way, +Their Souls move upwards to salute their God! +While to their comrades who are in the strife +They cry, 'Fight on! Death is the dawn of life.' + +We had forgotten all the depth and beauty +And lofty purport of that old true word +Deplaced by pleasure--that old good word DUTY. +Now by its meaning is the whole world stirred. +These men died for it; for it, now, we give, +And sacrifice, and serve, and toil, and live. +From out our hearts had gone a high devotion +For anything. It took a mighty wrath - +Against great evil to wake strong emotion, +And put us back upon the righteous path. +It took a mingled stream of tears and blood +To cut the channel through to Brotherhood. + +That word meant nothing on our lips in peace: +We had despoiled it by our castes and classes. +But when this savage carnage finds surcease +A new ideal will unite the masses. +And there shall be True Brotherhood with men - +The Christly Spirit stirring earth again. + +For this our men have suffered, fought, and died. +And we who can but dimly see the end +Are guarded by their spirits glorified, +Who help us on our way, while they ascend. +They are not dead--they are not dead, I say, +These men whose graves we decorate to-day. + +America and France walk hand in hand; +As one, their hearts beat through the coming years: +One is the aim and purpose of each land, +Baptized with holy water of their tears. +To-day they worship with one faith, and know +Grief's first Communion in God's House of Woe. + +Great Liberty, the Goddess at our gates, +And great Jeanne d'Arc, are fused into one soul: +A host of Angels on that soul awaits +To lead it up to triumph at the goal. +Along the path of Victory they tread, +Moves the majestic cortege of our dead. + +Flowers of France in the Spring, +Your growth is a beautiful thing; +But give us your fragrance and bloom - +Yea, give us your lives in truth, + Give us your sweetness and grace + To brighten the resting-place + Of the flower of manhood and youth, + Gone into the dust of the tomb. + + + +OUR ATLAS + + + +Not Atlas, with his shoulders bent beneath the weighty world, +Bore such a burden as this man, on whom the Gods have hurled +The evils of old festering lands--yea, hurled them in their might +And left him standing all alone, to set the wrong things right. + +It is the way the Fates have done since first Time's race began! +They open up Pandora's box before some chosen man; +And then, aloof, they wait and watch, to see if he will find +And wake the slumbering God that dwells in every mortal's mind. + +Erect, our modern Atlas stands, with brave uplifted head, +And there is courage in his eyes, if in his heart be dread. +Not dread of foes, but dread of friends, who may not pull together, +To bring the lurching ship of State safe through the stormy weather. + +Oh, never were there wilder waves or more stupendous seas, +Or rougher rocks or bleaker winds, or darker days than these. +Not Washington, not Lincoln knew so grave an hour of Time +As he who now stands face to face with War's world-shaking crime. + +His brain is clear, his soul is brave, his heart is just and right, +He asks no honours of the earth, but favour in God's sight; +His aim is not to wear a crown or win imperial power, +But to use wisely for the race life's terrible great hour. + +O Liberty, who lights the world with rays that come from God, +Shine on Columbia's troubled track, and make it bright and broad; +Shine on each heart, and give it strength to meet its pains and +losses, +And give supernal strength to one who bears the whole world's +crosses; +Take from his thought the fear of friends who may not pull together, +And bring the glorious ship of State safe through wild waves and +weather. + + + +CAMP FOLLOWERS + + + +In the old wars of the world there were camp followers, +Women of ancient sins who gave themselves for hire, +Women of weak wills and strong desire. +And, like the poison ivy in the woods +That winds itself about tall virile trees +Until it smothers them, so these +Ruined the bodies and the souls of men. +More evil were they than Red War itself, +Or Pestilence, or Famine. Now in this war - +This last most awful carnage of the world - +All the old wickedness exists as then: + +But as a foul stream from a festering fen +Is met and scattered by a mountain brook +Leaping along its beautiful, bright course, +So now the force +Of these new Followers of the camp has come +Straight from God's Source +To cleanse the world and cleanse the minds of men. +Good women, of great courage and large hearts, +Women whose slogan is self-sacrifice, +Willing to pay the price +God asks of pioneers, now play their parts +In this stupendous drama of the age +As Followers of the Camps. + +They come in the name of God our Father, +They come in the name of Christ our Brother, +They come in the name of All Humanity, +To give their gold, their labour, and their love +To help the suffering souls in this war-riddled earth, +The New Women of the Race-- +The New Camp Followers - +The Centuries shall do honour to their names. + + + +COME BACK CLEAN + + + +This is the song for a soldier + To sing as he rides from home +To the fields afar where the battles are + Or over the ocean's foam: +'Whatever the dangers waiting + In the lands I have not seen, +If I do not fall--if I come back at all, + Then I will come back clean. + +'I may lie in the mud of the trenches, + I may reek with blood and mire, +But I will control, by the God in my soul, + The might of my man's desire. +I will fight my foe in the open, + But my sword shall be sharp and keen +For the foe within who would lure me to sin, + And I will come back clean. + +'I may not leave for my children + Brave medals that I have worn, +But the blood in my veins shall leave no stains + On bride or on babes unborn; +And the scars that my body may carry + Shall not be from deeds obscene, +For my will shall say to the beast, OBEY! + And I will come back clean. + +'Oh, not on the fields of slaughter + And not in the prison-cell, +Or in hunger and cold is the story told + By war, of its darkest hell. +But the old, old sin of the senses + Can tell what that word may mean +To the soldiers' wives and to innocent lives, + And I will come back clean.' + + + +CAMOUFLAGE + + + +Camouflage is all the rage. +Ladies in their fight with age - +Soldiers in their fight with foes - +Demagogues who mask and pose +In the guise of statesmen--girls +Black of eyes with golden curls - +Politicians, votes in mind, +Smiling, affable and kind, +All use camouflage to-day. +As you go upon your way, +Walk with caution, move with care; +Camouflage is everywhere! + + + +THE AWAKENING + + + +I said, 'I will place my heart, my heart all broken, + Beside the world's torn heart, that it may know +The comradeship of sorrow that is not spoken, + But is carried on wings of all the winds that blow. +I will go homeless into homes of grieving, + And find my own grief easier to be borne.' +So over menacing seas I went, believing + Where all was mourning, I would cease to mourn. + +And now I am here, close to the great world-sorrow, + Here where each heart some mighty grief has known; +But from each suffering soul I seem to borrow + A poignant pain that but augments my own. +The earth is like one vast tempestuous ocean, + Where struggling beings fight for light and breath: +I feel their anguish, feel each keen emotion - + Yet through it all, I KNOW THERE IS NO DEATH. + +And as we toss on billows red with slaughter, + Unto each tortured, anguished soul I cry, +'There are green lands beyond this raging water, + We shall come into harbour by and by. +Our dead dwell near, life is a thing eternal: + And I have talked with One from that fair shore. +We are but passing through a dream infernal; + We shall awake, we shall be glad once more.' + + + +THE KHAKI BOYS WHO WERE NOT AT THE FRONT + + + +Oh! it is not just the men who face the guns, +Not the fighters at the Front alone, to-day +Who will bring the longed-for close to the bloody fray, for those +Could not carry on that fray without the ones +Who are working at war's problems far away. + +You are ALL our splendid heroes in the strife, +And we class you with the warriors maimed and scarred, +Though you never have been near enough the battle din to hear, +While you laboured in the dull routine of life +In your khaki suits with sleeves that are not barred. + +You have offered up yourselves to save the world; +You have felt the abnegation of the Christ: +And whatever work you do is a noble work and true; +Though it be not done with banners all unfurled, +You will find it has, in sight of God, sufficed. + +While you carry back no medals when you go, +Not without you had the fighters borne war's brunt: +So just lift your heads uncowed, for your country will be proud +And its lasting love and honour will bestow +On the khaki boys who were not at the Front. + + + +TIME'S HYMN OF HATE + + + +Oh, boastful, wicked land, that once was beautiful and great, +How bitter and how black must be your self-invited fate, +While Time goes down the centuries and sings his hymn of hate! + +Time's voice is just. His words ring true. For as the past +recedes, +The clear-eyed Future slowly writes the story of its deeds; +And as Time toward the Infinite his ceaseless flight is winging + He shall go singing +The hymn of hate, of men and gods, for all your deeds of lust, +For all your acts of cruelty and hell-concocted schemes +(More hideous than the darkest plot of which a devil dreams) +Which sprang from your Medusa head before it touched the dust. + +Beneath the strangling hand of Fate +That strident voice of yours +Shall hush to silence, soon or late +That Justice that endures +Will mobilise its mighty ranks and free the human race, + Then shall all Space, +Yea, all the chains of sphere on sphere, +With that loud hymn be ringing, + Which Time goes singing + His far flight winging +And all the cherubims of God that dwell in regions o'er us + Shall swell the chorus. + +Oh, boastful, wicked land, that once was beautiful and great, +How desolate and dark must be your self-invited fate, +While Time goes down the centuries and sings his hymn of hate! + + + +DEAR MOTHERLAND OF FRANCE +DEDICATED TO THE MEN AND WOMEN OF FRANCE + + + +Our Motherland, dear Motherland, +The source of beauty and of Art, +Who but thy children understand +The love which permeates each heart! +We see, through rainbow-tints of tears, +Thy glory of a thousand years. +O country of the Great and Free, +We live for thee, we live for thee, +Dear Motherland of France. + +O Motherland, both blithe and brave, +What magic lies in thy name--France! +Yet can thy radiant mien be grave, +And stern thy ever-smiling glance. +And when thy sons and daughters know +That enemies would lay thee low +And dim thy fame on land and sea, +We fight for thee, we fight for thee, +Dear Motherland of France. + +Dear Motherland of joy and mirth, +Dear Motherland of faith divine, +A thousand years the wondering earth +Has seen thy star in splendour shine. +Still shall it see that star of France +Its splendour and its light enhance. +Dear Motherland, when it need be +We die for thee, we die for thee, +Dear Motherland of France. + + + +THE SPIRIT OF GREAT JOAN + + + +Back of each soldier who fights for France, + Ay, back of each woman and man +Who toils and prays through these long tense days, + Is the spirit of Great Joan. +For the love she gave, and the life she gave, + In the eyes of God sufficed +To crown her with light, and power, and might, + That made her second to Christ. + +And so in that hour at the Marne she came, + To the seeing eyes of men; +And the blind of view still felt and knew + That her spirit had come again. +And she will come in each crucial hour + And joy shall follow despair, +For Joan sees her France on its knees + And she hears the voice of its prayer. + +There is no hate in the heart of France, + But a mighty moral force +That takes its stand for her worshipped land, + And cannot be swerved from its course. +For this is the way with France to-day, + Her courage comes from faith, +And she bends her knee ere she straightens her arm; + In her forward rush toward death. + +A jungle of beasts in the heart of the Hun - + War to the world laid bare. +And war has revealed, that France concealed, + Only the lion's lair. +A lioness fighting to save her own, + She fights as a lioness can, +And strength to the end shall the Unseen send, + In the spirit of Great Joan. + + + +SPEAK + + + +Obscured the sun, the world is dark; +Maid of Orleans, Joan of Arc, + Send down thy spark. + +Let every heart in France be stirred, +By such an all-compelling word + As thou once heard. + +Say to each soul, 'Lo! I am near; +My voice still speaks in accents clear. + Be still and hear. + +'The France I saved can not be lost; +Though tempest-torn and terror-tossed, + Count not the cost. + +'Give as the maid of Domremy +Gave all--gave life itself to see + Her country free. + +'Back of great France my spirit towers +To aid her through the darkest hours + With God's own powers!' + +Maid of Orleans, Joan of Arc, +Shine through the night, speak through the dark + The while we hark. + + + +THE GIRL OF THE U.S.A. + + + +Oh! the maidens of France are certainly fine, + And I think every fellow will state +That the 'what-you-may-call-it' coiffured way + They put up their hair is great! +And they know how to dress, and they wear their clothes + In a fetching, Frenchy way; +And yet to me, there is just one girl - + The girl of the U.S.A. + +I like to listen when French girls talk, + Though I'm weak in the 'parlez-vous' game; +But the language of youth in every land + Is somehow about the same, +And I've learned a regular code of shrugs, + And they seem to know what I say! +But the girl whose voice goes straight to my heart + Is the girl of the U.S.A. + +I haven't a word but words of praise + For these dear little girls of France; +And I will confess that I've felt a thrill + As I faced their line of advance! +But I haven't been taken a prisoner yet, + And I won't be, until the day +When I carry my colours to lay at the feet + Of a girl of the U.S.A. + + + +PASSING THE BUCK + + + +Whatever the task that comes your way, + Just take it as part of your luck. +Look it right square in the eyes, and say, +'This is MY task, I'll do it to-day': + Don't pass the buck. + +Oh! whether you cook, or whether you fight, + Or whether you trundle a truck, +Just tackle your job and do it right: + Don't pass the buck. + +The wheels of the earth have gone, alack! + Deep into war's mire and muck. +If you want to put it again on its track, +Don't shift your load on another man's back: + Don't pass the buck. + + + +SONG OF THE AVIATOR + + + +You may thrill with the speed of your thoroughbred steed, +You may laugh with delight as you ride the ocean, +You may rush afar in your touring car, +Leaping, sweeping, by things that are creeping - +But you never will know the joy of motion +Till you rise up over the earth some day, +And soar like an eagle, away--away. + +High and higher above each spire, +Till lost to sight is the tallest steeple, +With the winds you chase in a valiant race, +Looping, swooping, where mountains are grouping, +Hailing them comrades, in place of people. +Oh! vast is the rapture the birdman knows, +As into the ether he mounts and goes. +He is over the sphere of human fear; +He has come into touch with things supernal. +At each man's gate death stands await; +And dying, flying, were better than lying +In sick-beds, crying for life eternal. +Better to fly half-way to God +Than to burrow too long like a worm in the sod. + + + +THE STEVEDORES + + + +We are the army stevedores, lusty and virile and strong, +We are given the hardest work of the war, and the hours are long. +We handle the heavy boxes, and shovel the dirty coal; +While soldiers and sailors work in the light, we burrow below like a +mole. +But somebody has to do this work, or the soldiers could not fight! +And whatever work is given a man, is good if he does it right. + +We are the army stevedores, and we are volunteers. +We did not wait for the draft to come, to put aside our fears; +We flung them away on the winds of fate, at the very first call of +our land, +And each of us offered a willing heart and the strength of a brawny +hand. +We are the army stevedores, and work as we must and may, +The cross of honour will never be ours to proudly wear away. + +But the men at the Front could never be there, +And the battles could not be won, +If the stevedores stopped in their dull routine +And left their work undone. +Somebody has to do this work; be glad that it isn't you! +We are the army stevedores--give us our due! + + + +A SONG OF HOME + + + +I am singing a song to the boys to-day, +A song of the home that is far away. +And I know that an echo the word is waking +In many a heart that is secretly aching, +Yes, almost breaking, thinking of Home, dear Home. +But thought, dear boys, is a carrier dove, +And it flies straight into the hearts you love. + +You picture the days of your youthful joys, +The old home circle, the girls and boys +You knew in that wonderful world of pleasure, +When life danced on to a lilting measure; +Each scene you treasure, thinking of Home, dear Home. +And here is a thought that is sweet and true - +The ones you long for are longing for you. +You picture the day when the war is done, +The duty accomplished, the victory won, +And over the billows our ships go leaping, +Into our beautiful harbour sweeping, +And with laughter and weeping, you go back Home, Home, Home. +On the walls of your heart you must hang with care +This beautiful picture, framed in prayer. + +Thinking of Home, you are blazing a trail +For that glorious day when our ships shall sail; +Where the Goddess of Liberty lights the water +To guide you back from the fields of slaughter, +Fair Freedom's daughter, who welcomes us Home, Home, Home. +So hold your vision, and work and pray, +As you dream of the Home that is far away. + + + +THE SWAN OF DIJON + + + +I was in Dijon when the war's wild blast +Was at its loudest; when there was no sound +From dawn to dawn, save soldiers marching past, +Or rattle of their wagons in the street. +When every engine whistle would repeat +Persistently, with meaning tense, profound, +'We carry men to slaughter' or 'we bring +Remnants of men back as war's offering.' + +And there in Dijon, the out-gazing eye +Grew weary of the strife-suggesting scene; +But, searching, found one quiet spot hard by +Where war was not; a little lake whereon +Moved leisurely a stately, tranquil swan, +Majestic and imposing, yet serene. + +I was in Dijon, when no sound or sight +Woke thoughts of peace, save this one speck of white, +Sailing 'neath skies of menace, unafraid +While silver fountains for his pleasure played. +Dear Swan of Dijon, it was your good part +To rest a tired heart. + + + +VEILS + + + +Veils, everywhere float veils; veils long and black, +Framing white faces, oft-times young and fair, +But, like a rose touched by untimely frost, +Showing the blighting marks of sorrow's track. + +Veils, veils, veils everywhere. They tell the cost +Of man-made war. They show the awful toll +Paid by the hearts of women for the crimes, +The age-old crimes by selfishness ill-named +'Justice' and 'Honour' and 'The call of Fate' - +High words men use to hide their low estate. +About the joy and beauty of this world +A long black veil is furled. +Even the face of Heaven itself seems lost +Behind a veil. It takes a fervent soul +In these tense times +To visualise a God so long defamed +By insolent lips, that send out prayers, and prate +Of God's collaboration in dark deeds, +So foul they put to shame the fiends of hell. + +Yet One DOES dwell +In Secret Centres of the Universe - +The Mighty Maker; and He hears and heeds +The still small voice of soulful, selfless faith; +And He is lifting now the veil of death, +So long down-dropped between those worlds and earth. +Yea! He is giving faith a great new birth +By letting echoes from the hidden places +Where dwell our dead, fall on love's listening ear. +Hearken, and you shall hear +The messages which come from those star-spaces! +That is the reason why +God let so many die; +That the vast hordes of suffering hearts might wake +Mighty vibrations, and the silence break +Between the neighbouring worlds, and lift the veil +'Twixt life on earth, and life Beyond. All hail +To great Jehovah, Who has given life +Eternal, everlasting, after strife! + +Veils, long black veils, you shall be bridal white. +Eyes, blind with tears, you shall receive your sight, +And see your dead alive in Worlds of Light. + + + +IN FRANCE I SAW A HILL + + + +In France I saw a hill--a gentle slope +Rising above old tombs to greet the gleam +From soft spring skies. Beyond these skies dwells hope, +But those green graves bespeak a broken dream. + +There was a row of narrow beds, new-made; +Each bore a starry banner and a cross. +And each the name of one who, ere he played +His role of warrior, met earth's final loss. + +They were so young, so eager for the fray! +And thoughts of glory filled each boyish heart, +When over dangerous seas they sailed away +To face the foe and play some splendid part. + +But in the tedious toil, the dull routine +Which must precede achievement on the field, +Disease, that secret enemy with mean +Sly tactics, forced them to disarm and yield. + +So they were buried on that hill in France, +Before their ears had heard the battle din; +Before life gave them its dramatic chance - +A lasting fame, or glorious death to win. + +Yet, looking up beyond their graves of green, +I seem to see them wearing band and star; +Men are rewarded in the Worlds Unseen +Not for the way they die, but what they are. + + + +AMERICAN BOYS, HELLO! + + + +Oh! we love all the French, and we speak in French +As along through France we go. +But the moments to us that are keen and sweet +Are the ones when our khaki boys we meet, +Stalwart and handsome and trim and neat; +And we call to them--'Boys, hello!' +'Hello, American boys, +Luck to you, and life's best joys! +American boys, hello!' + +We couldn't do that if we were at home - +It never would do, you know! +For there you must wait till you're told who's who, +And to meet in the way that nice folks do. +Though you knew his name, and your name he knew - +You never would say 'Hello, hello, American boy!' +But here it's just a joy, +As we pass along in the stranger throng, +To call out, 'Boys, hello!' + +For each is a brother away from home; +And this we are sure is so, +There's a lonesome spot in his heart somewhere, +And we want him to feel there are friends RIGHT THERE +In this foreign land, and so we dare +To call out 'Boys, hello!' +'Hello, American boys, +Luck to you, and life's best joys! +American boys, hello!' + + + +DE ROCHAMBEAU + + + +ON THE PRESENTATION OF AN AMERICAN BANNER TO CAMP ROCHAMBEAU BY THE +MARQUISE DE ROCHAMBEAU AT TOURS, FRANCE, JUNE 1, 1918 + +Here is a picture I carry away +On memory's wall. A green June day, +A golden sun in an amethyst sky, +And a beautiful banner floating as high +As the lofty spires of the city of Tours, +And a slender Marquise, with a face as pure +As a sculptured saint: while staunch and true +In new-world khaki and old-world blue, +Wearing their medals with modest pride, +Her stalwart bodyguard stand at her side. + +Simple the picture; but much it may mean +To one who reads into and under the scene, +For there, in that opulent hour and weather, +Two great Republics came closer together; +A little nearer came land to land +Through the magical touch of a woman's hand. +And once again as in long ago +The grand old name of de Rochambeau +Shines forth like a star, for our world to see - +Our Land of the Brave, and our Home of the Free. + + + +AFTER + + + +Over the din of battle, +Over the cannons' rattle, +Over the strident voices of men and their dying groans, +I hear the falling of thrones. + +Out of the wild disorder +That spreads from border to border, +I see a new world rising from ashes of ancient towns; +And the rulers wear no crowns. + +Over the blood-charged water, +Over the fields of slaughter, +Down to the hidden vaults of Time, where lie the worn-out things, +I see the passing of kings. + + + +THE BLASPHEMY OF GUNS + + + +There must be lonely moments when God feels +The need of prayer - +Such lonely moments, knowing not anywhere, +In any spot or place, +In all the far recesses of vast space, +Dwells any one to whom His prayers may rise, +And then, methinks--so urgent is His need - + God bids His prayers descend. +He that has ears to hear, let him take heed, + For much God's prayers portend. + +God flings His solar system forth to be + Finished by beings who befit each sphere. +Not ours to pry the secrets out of Mars; + Our work lies here. +To star-folk leave the stars. +There must be many worlds that give God care: + Young worlds that glow and burn, +Old worlds that freeze and fade. + This world is man's concern. +Methinks God must be very much dismayed, + Seeing the use we make of earth to-day, + While loud we pray. + +Last night, in sleep, beyond the earth's small zone, +Adventurously my spirit went alone, +Past lesser hells and heavens, where souls may pause +To learn the meaning of death's larger laws, +Past astral shapes and bodies of desire, +Past angels and archangels, high and higher, +Until the pinnacles of space it trod, +Then, awestruck, paused, hearing the voice of God. + +'Mortals of earth, for whom I shaped a sphere +(So spake the Voice), 'there rises to Mine ear +Eternal praises and eternal pleas. +Now, after centuries, I tire of these. +Have ye no knowledge of the Maker's needs, +Ye who ask favours and who praise by creeds? + +Why has it not sufficed +That unto this small earth I sent great Christ, +Divine expression of the mortal man, +To aid my plan? + +'Why ask for more when all has been refused? +Why praise My name Who hourly am abused? +Why seek for Me or heaven, when in you dwells +Hate's lurid hells? + +'Persistent praises and persuasive pleas - +I tire, I tire of these; +But I, the Maker of a billion suns, +Ask men to stop the blasphemy of guns.' +This is God's prayer. + +(There must be many worlds that give God care.) + + + +THE CRIMES OF PEACE + + + +Musing upon the tragedies of earth, +Of each new horror which each hour gives birth, +Of sins that scar and cruelties that blight +Life's little season, meant for man's delight, +Methought those monstrous and repellent crimes +Which hate engenders in war-heated times, +To God's great heart bring not so much despair +As other sins which flourish everywhere +And in all times--bold sins, bare-faced and proud, +Unchecked by college, and by Church allowed, +Lifting their lusty heads like ugly weeds +Above wise precepts and religious creeds, +And growing rank in prosperous days of peace. +Think you the evils of this world would cease +With war's cessation? + If God's eyes know tears, +Methinks He weeps more for the wasted years +And the lost meaning of this earthly life - +This big, brief life--than over bloody strife. +Yea; there are mean, lean sins God must abhor +More than the fatted, blood-drunk monster, War. +Looking from His place, looking from His high place among the stars, +God saw a peaceful land - +A land of fertile fields and golden harvests--and great cities whose +innumerable spires pierced the vault of heaven, like bayonets of an +invading army. +And God said, speaking unto Himself aloud, God said: +'Peace and power and plenty have I given unto this land; and those +tall steeples are monuments to Me. +Now let My people reveal themselves, that I may see their works, +done in My name in a fertile land of peace. +I will withdraw Mine eyes from other worlds that I may behold them, +that I may behold these people to whom I sent Christ--they whose +innumerable spires pierce My blue vault like bayonets.' +God saw the restless, idle rich in club and cabaret, +Meat-gorged, wine-filled, they played and preened and danced till +dawn o' day; +They played at sports; they played at love; they played at being +gay. +They were but empty, silk-clad shells; their souls had leaked away. +He saw the sweat-shop and the mill where little children toiled, +The sunless rooms where mothers slaved and unborn souls were +spoiled; +While those whose greedy, selfish lives had thrust the toilers +there, +He saw whirled down broad avenues, clothed all with raiment fair. + +He saw in homes made beautiful with all that gold can give +Unhappy souls at odds with life, not knowing how to live. +He saw fair, pampered women turn from motherhood's sweet joy, +Obsessed with methods to prevent or mania to destroy. +He saw men sell their souls to vice and avarice and greed; +He heard race quarrelling with race and creed decrying creed; +And shameful wealth and waste He saw, and shameful want and need. + +He saw bold little children come from church and schoolroom, blind +To suffering of lesser things, unfeeling and unkind; +He heard them taunt the poor, and tease their furred and feathered +kin; +And no voice spake from home or church to tell them this was sin. +He heard the cry of wounded things, the wasteful gun's report; +He saw the morbid craze to kill, which Christian men called sport. + +And then God hid His grieving face behind a wall of cloud, +On earth they said, 'A thunder-storm'--but God had wept aloud. + + + +IT MAY BE + + + +Let us be silent for a little while; +Let us be still and listen. We may hear +Echoes from other worlds not far a way. + +City on city rising, steeple out-topping steeple, +Gaining and hoarding and spending, and armies on battle bent, +People and people and people, and ever more human people - +This is not all of creation, this is not all that was meant! +Earth on its orbit spinning, +This is not end or beginning; +That is but one of a trillion spheres out into the ether hurled: +We move in a zone of wonder, +And over our planet and under +Are infinite orders of beings and marvels of world on world. + +There may be moving among us curious people and races, +Folk of the fourth dimension, folk of the vast star spaces. +They may be trying to reach us, +They may be longing to teach us +Things we are longing to know. +If it is so, +Voices like these are not heard in earth's riot, +Let us be quiet. + +Classes with classes disputing, nation warring with nation, +Building and owning and seeking to lead--this is not all! +Endless the works of creation, +There may be waiting our call +Beings in numberless legions, +Dwellers in rarefied regions, +Journeying Godward like us, +Alist for a word to be spoken, +Awatch for a sign or a token. +If it be thus, +How they must grieve at our riotous noise +And the things we call duties and joys! + +Let us be silent for a little while; +Let us be still and listen. We may hear +Echoes from other worlds not far away. + + + +THEN AND NOW + + + +A little time agone, a few brief years, +And there was peace within our beauteous borders; +Peace, and a prosperous people, and no fears +Of war and its disorders. +Pleasure was ruling goddess of our land; with her attendant Mirth +She led a jubilant, joy-seeking band about the riant earth. + +Do you recall those laughing days, my Brothers, +And those long nights that trespassed on the dawn? +Those throngs of idle dancing maids and mothers +Who lilted on and on - +Card mad, wine flushed, bejewelled and half stripped, +Yet women whose sweet mouth had never sipped +From sin's black chalice--women good at heart +Who, in the winding maze of pleasure's mart, +Had lost the sun-kissed way to wholesome pleasures of an earlier +day. + +Oh! You remember them! You filled their glasses; +You 'cut in' at their games of bridge; you left +Your work to drop in on their dancing classes +Before the day was cleft +In twain by noontide. When the night waxed late +You led your partner forth to demonstrate +The newest steps before a cheering throng, +And Time and Peace danced by your side along. + +Peace is a lovely word, and we abhor that red word 'War'; +But look ye, Brothers, what this war has done for daughters and for +son, +For manhood and for womanhood, whose trend +Seemed year on year toward weakness to descend. +Upon this woof of darkness and of terror, woven by human error, +Behold the pattern of a new race-soul, +And it shall last while countless ages roll. + +At the loud call of drums, out of the idler and the weakling comes +The hero valiant with self-sacrifice, ready to pay the price +War asks of men, to help a suffering world. +And out of the arms of pleasure, where they whirled +In wild unreasoning mirth, behold the splendid women of the earth +Living new selfless lives--the toiling mothers, sister, daughters, +wives +Of men gone forth as target for the foe. + +Ah, now we know +Man is divine; we see the heavenly spark +Shining above the smoke and gloom and dark +Which was not visible in peaceful days. +God! wondrous are Thy ways, +For out of chaos comes construction; out of darkness and of doubt +And the black pit of death comes glorious faith; +From want and waste comes thrift, from weakness strength and power +And to the summits men and women lift +Their souls from self-indulgence in this hour, +This crucial hour of life: +So shines the golden side of this black shield of strife. + + + +WIDOWS + + + +The world was widowed by the death of Christ: +Vainly its suffering soul for peace has sought + And found it not. +For nothing, nothing, nothing has sufficed +To bring back comfort to the stricken house +From whence has gone the Master and the Spouse. + +In its long widowhood the world has striven +To find diversion. It has turned away +From the vast aweful silences of Heaven +(Which answer but with silence when we pray) +And sought for something to assuage its grief. + Some surcease and relief +From sorrow, in pursuit of mortal joys. +It drowned God's stillness in a sea of noise; +It lost God's presence in a blur of forms; +Till, bruised and bleeding with life's brutal storms, +Unto immutable and speechless space + The World lifts up its face, + Its haggard, tear-drenched face, +And cries aloud for faith's supreme reward, +The promised Second Coming of its Lord. + +So many widows, widows everywhere, +The whole earth teems with widows. Guns that blare - + Winged monsters of the air - +And deep-sea monsters leaping through the water, + Hell bent on slaughter, +All these plough paths for widows. Maids at dawn, +And brides at noon, ere eventide pass on +Into the ranks of widows: but to weep +Just for a little space; then will grief sleep +In their young bosoms, where sweet hope belongs, +New love will sing once more its age-old songs, +And life bloom as a rose-tree blooms again + After a night of rain. +There are complacent widows clothed in crepe +Who simulate a grief that is not real. +Through paths of seeming sorrow they escape +From disappointed hopes to some ideal, +Or, from the penury of unloved wives + Walk forth to opulent lives. +And there are widows who shed all their tears + Just at the first + In one wild burst, +And then go lilting lightly down the years: +Black butterflies, they flit from flower to flower +And live in the thin pleasures of the hour; +Merging their tender memories of the dead +In tenderer dreams of being once more wed. + +But there are others: women who have proved +That loving greatly means so being loved. +Women who through full beauteous years have grown +Into the very body, souls, and heart +Of their dear comrades. When death tears apart +Such close-knit bonds as these, and one alone +Out to the larger freer life is called, + And one is left - +Then God in heaven must sometimes be appalled +At the wild anguish of the soul bereft, +And unto His Son must say, 'I did not know + Mortals could suffer so.' + +But Christ, remembering Gethsemane, +Will answer softly, 'It was known to Me.' +God's alchemist, old Time, will merge to calm +That bitter anguish; but there is no balm +Save the sweet certitude that each long day + Is one step in a stair +That circles up to where freed spirits stay. + +Widows, so many widows everywhere. + +The world was widowed by the death of Christ, +And nothing, nothing, nothing has sufficed +To bring back comfort to the stricken house +From whence has gone the Master and the Spouse. +Hasten, dear Lord, with Thy Millennium, Hasten and come. + + + +CONVERSATION + + + +We were a baker's dozen in the house--six women and six men + Besides myself; and all of us had known +Those benefits supposed to come from school and church and brush and +pen, + And opportunities of being thrown +In contact with the cultured and the gifted people of the day. + Being the thirteenth one among six pairs +I deemed it wise to keep apart and let the others have their say: + And from my vantage-place upon the stairs, +Or in a corner, where I seemed to read, I listened for some word + That would make life seem sweeter, or cast light +Upon the goal toward which all footsteps wend: and this was what I +heard + Throughout each day and half of every night. +The men talked business, politics, and trade; + They told of safe investments, and great chances +For speculation. (One man who had made + Pleasure his art, described the newest dances +And dwelt upon each chasse, glide, and whirl +As lovers dwell upon the charms of some fair girl.) + +They talked of war, and tried to find its cause, + And quite deplored the fact that wars must come. +But since this desperate condition was, + They carefully computed what the sum +Of profit might be to a land of peace, +And wondered if times would be harder should war cease. + +They spoke of games and sports; told many a story + That made the listeners laugh; then back from these +Always they harked to money, or the gory + And savage drama playing overseas. +Then there were tales from club and smoking-room - +The submarines of gossip, bringing some name doom. + +The women talked of fashions and of plays, + But more of players and their private lives; +Related tittle-tattle of their words and ways, + Their lightning change of husbands and of wives. +And there was chat of garments and their price, +Of operas and balls and all that gives life spice. + +Some talk there was of music, pictures, books, + But of musicians, painters, authors, more. +The way they lived--their methods and their looks - + The colour of their eyes--the clothes they wore; +And whether it was true, as had been stated, +That gifted people were quite sure to be mis-mated. + +They talked of servants, menus, and disease, + And operations. Each one came in line +With some astounding tale to tell of these, + And of her surgeon's skill, which seemed divine. +But of that vast Domain where live our dead +And where we all are hurrying, no word was said. + +When we know that goal awaits each one of us a little farther on, +When we know how an ever-increasing company of friends is gathered +there, +Why do we not speak of it in our daily conversation? +Why do we not familiarise our minds with thoughts of worlds unseen? +There are many beautiful things to be learned of that country. +There are sacred books of great travellers, whose souls have cried, +'Hail across the border'; + +There are truths which have been learned in visions and by +revelations: +All the revelations were not given to St. John alone, +All the wise men of the world did not die two thousand years ago! +Why do we not talk of these eternal truths, +Instead of wasting all our words on the evanesent, the ever- +changing, the trivial, and the unimportant? +There is but one important theme, and that is Life Immortal. + + + +I, TOO + + + +I saw fond lovers in that glow + That oft-times fades away too soon: +I saw and said, 'Their joy I know - + I, too, have had my honeymoon.' + +A young expectant mother's gaze + Held earth and heaven within its scope: +My thoughts went back to holy days - + I said, 'I, too, have known that hope.' + +I saw a stricken mother swayed + By sorrow's storm, like wind-blown grass: +I said, 'I, too, dismayed + Have seen the little white hearse pass.' + +I saw a matron rich with years + Walk radiantly beside her mate: +I blessed them, and said through my tears, + 'I, too, have known that high estate.' + +I saw a woman swathed in black + So blind with grief she could not see: +I said, 'Not far need I look back - + I, too, have known Gethsemane.' + +I saw a face so full of light, + It seemed with all God's truths to shine: +I said, 'I, too, have found my sight, + I, too, have touched the Fact Divine.' + + + +HE THAT HATH EARS + + + +'He that hath an ear, let him hear what the Spirit saith unto the +churches.'--St. John the Divine. + +The Spirit says unto the churches, + 'Ere ever the churches began +I lived in the centre of Being - + The life of the Purpose and Plan; +I flowed from the mind of the Maker + Through nature to man. + +'I sleep in the glow of the jewel, + I wake in the sap of the tree, +I stir in the beast of the forest, + I reason in man, and am free +To turn on the path of Ascension + To the god yet to be. + +'I was, and I am, and I will be; + I live in each church and each faith +But yield to no bond and no fetter, + I animate all with my breath; +I speak through the voice of the living + And I speak after death.' + +The Spirit says unto the churches, + 'The dead are not gone, they are near +And my voice, when I will it, speaks through them, + Speaks through them in messages clear. +And he that hath ears, in the silence + May listen and hear.' + +The Spirit says unto the churches, + 'So many the feet that have trod +The road leading up into knowledge, + The steep narrow path has grown broad; +And the curtain held down by old dogmas + Is lifted by God.' + + + +ANSWERS + + + +What is the end of each man's toil, + Brother, O Brother? +A handful of dust in a bit of soil - +His name forgotten as centuries roll, +Though blazoned to-day on Glory's scroll; +For the lordliest work of brain or hand +Is only an imprint made on sand; +When the tidal wave sweeps over the shore + It is there no more, + Brother, my Brother. + +Then what is the use of striving at all, + Brother, O Brother? +Because each effort or great or small +Is a step on the long, long road that leads +To the Kingdom of Growth on the River of Deeds: +And that is the kingdom no man can gain + Till he uses his hand and his mind and brain, +And when he has used them and learned control + He finds his soul, + Brother, my Brother. + +And after he finds it, what is the end, + Brother, O Brother? +Upward ever its course and trend; +For this is the purpose and aim and plan +To seek in the soul for the Super-man - +The man who is conscious that Heaven is near - +A bulletin bearer from There to Here, +Finding God dwells in the spirit within + Where He ever has been, + Brother, my Brother. + +And what will the God-man do when He comes, + Brother, O Brother? +He will better the world or in courts or slums, +He will do in gladness his nearest duty: +He will teach the religion of love and beauty +In field or factory, mine or mart, +While He tells the world of the larger part +And the wider life that is yet to be + When spirit is free, + Brother, my Brother. + +When spirit is free, then where will it go, + Brother, O Brother? +Its uttermost summit no man may know, +For it goes up to God in His holy Tower +To gather more knowledge and force and power; +Like a ray of the sun it shall shine again +To brighten new planets and races of men. +Life had no beginning, life has no end, + Brother and friend - + Brother, my Brother. + + + +HOW IS IT? + + + +You who are loudly crying out for peace, +You who are wanting love to vanquish hate, +How is it in the four walls of your home +The while you wait? + +Do those who form your household welcome your approach in the +morning +As the earth welcomes the presence of dawn, +Or do they dread your coming lest you censure and complain? +Do you begin the day with praise to God for each blessing you +possess, and do you speak frequent words of commendation to those +about you? +Do those you claim to love often hear you talking in love's +language, +Or is your softest tone and your sweetest speech saved for the +sometime guest, +While the harsh voice and the sharp retort are used with those you +love the best? + +You who are praying for the Christ's return +And for the coming of the Promised Day, +How is it in the four walls of your home + The while you pray? + +Are you trying to make your home a reflection of what you believe +heaven will be? +Unless you are you will never find heaven anywhere; +The foundations of our heavenly mansions must first be built on +earth. +Unless you are striving to put in use some of the angelic virtues +here and now, +No angelhood will be accorded you hereafter. + +Unless you are illustrating your desire for peace by a peaceful, +love-ruled home, +You have no right to clamour for a cessation of hostilities among +nations; +Nations are only chains of individuals. +When each individual expresses nothing but love and peace in his +daily life, there will be no more war. + +You who are loudly crying out for peace, +You who are wanting love to vanquish hate, +How is it in the four walls of your home + The while you wait? + + + +'LET US GIVE THANKS' + + + +For the courage which comes when we call, +While troubles like hailstones fall; +For the help that is somehow nigh, +In the deepest night when we cry; +For the path that is certainly shown +When we pray in the dark alone, + Let us give thanks. + +For the knowledge we gain if we wait +And bear all the buffets of fate; +For the vision that beautifies sight +If we look under wrong for the right; +For the gleam of the ultimate goal +That shines on each reverent soul: + Let us give thanks. + +For the consciousness stirring in creeds +That love is the thing the world needs; +For the cry of the travailing earth +That is giving a new faith birth; +For the God we are learning to find +In the heart and the soul and the mind: + Let us give thanks. + +For the growth of the spirit through pain, +Like a plant in the soil and the rain; +For the dropping of needless things +Which the sword of a sorrow brings; +For the meaning and purpose of life +Which dawns on us out of the strife: + Let us give thanks. + +For the solace that comes to our grief +In knowing earth's season is brief; +For the certitude given by faith +Of the continents out beyond death; +For the glorious thought that each day +Is speeding us the reward away: + Let us give thanks. + + + +THE BLACK SHEEP + + + + +'Black sheep, black sheep, have you any wool?' +Yes, sir--yes, sir: three bags full.' + +'I don't want any New Thought,' said he, +'Or any Theosophy, for, you see, +The faith I learned at my mother's knee +Is good enough for me. +Of course, I'm a wee bit broader than she, +Hearing one sermon where she heard three, +And I read my paper on Sunday, instead +Of the Bible only. My mother said +I was a black sheep, when she saw +I strayed a trifle away from the law, +And didn't think every one left in the lurch +Who happened to go to a different church; +But, still, in the main, her creed is mine, +And I don't want anything more divine.' +Yet his mother's mother was more austere; +She taught her children a creed of fear, +And she called them 'black sheep' when, with a shock, +She saw them straying away from the flock, +Just far enough +To get around places they thought too rough, +Like infant damnation and endless hell. + +But his mother's mother's mother would tell +How her mother thought it was God's sweet will +To punish and torture a heretic till +They drove out the devil that made him dare +Think for himself in the matter of prayer +And faith and salvation. So we see how it is +If we look back over the centuries - +The creeds men learned at their mother's knee +When Salem witches were hanged to a tree, +And the pious dames flocked thither to see, +Are not deemed Christian or holy to-day; +And the bold black sheep who went straying away +From rut-worn paths in their search for God, +And leaped over the fence into pastures broad, +Are the great trail-makers for mortal souls, +Leading the race up to higher goals +And a larger religion; where man must find +God dwelling ever within his mind, +Christ in his conduct, and heaven in his thought, +And hell but the places where love is not. +A mighty religion that makes this earth +But the cradle that fits us for death's new birth +And the life beyond it, that is so near +Its echoes may reach to the listening ear. + +'Black sheep, black sheep, have you any wool?' +'Yes, sir--yes, sir: a whole world full.' + + + +ONE BY ONE + + + +Little by little and one by one, + Out of the ether, were worlds created; +Star and planet and sea and sun, + All in the nebulous Nothing waited +Till the Nameless One Who has many a name +Called them to being and forth they came. + +All things mighty and all things small, + Stone and flower and sentient being, +Each is an answer to that one call, + A part of Himself that His will is freeing - +Freeing to go on the long, long way +That winds back home at the end of the day. + +Little by little does mortal man + Build his castles for joy and glory, +And one by one time shatters each plan + And lowers his palaces, story by story- +Story by story, till earth is just +A row of graves in the lowly dust. + +One by one, whatever was called, + Must be called back to the primal Centre. +Let no soul tremble or be appalled, + For the heart of the Maker is where we enter - +Is where we enter to gain new force +Before we are sent on another course. + +And one by one, as He calls us back, + We shall find the souls that we loved with passion, +In the great way-stations along the track, + And clasp them again in the old, sweet fashion - +In the old, sweet fashion when earth we trod - +And journey along with them up to God. + + + +PRAYER + + + +Lord, let us pray. + +Give us the open mind, O God, + The mind that dares believe +In paths of thought as yet untrod; + The mind that can conceive +Large visions of a wider way +Than circumscribes our world to-day. + +May tolerance temper our own faith, + However great our zeal; +When others speak of life and death, + Let us not plunge a steel +Into the heart of one who talks +In terms we deem unorthodox. + +Help us to send our thoughts through space, + Where worlds in trillions roll, +Each fashioned for its time and place, + Each portion of the whole; +Till our weak minds may feel a sense +Of Thy Supreme Omnipotence. + +Let us not shame Thee with a creed + That builds a costly church, +But blinds us to a brother's need + Because he dares to search +For truth in his own soul and heart +And finds his church in home and mart. + +Give us the faith that makes us kind, +Give us the open sight and mind - + O God, the often mind +That lifts itself to meet the Ray +Of the New Dawning Day: + Lord, let us pray. + + + +BE NOT DISMAYED + + + +Be not dismayed, be not dismayed when death +Sets its white seal upon some worshipped face. +Poor human nature for a little space +Must suffer anguish, when that last drawn breath +Leaves such long silence; but let not thy faith + Fail for a moment in God's boundless grace. + But know, oh know, He has prepared a place +Fairer for our dear dead than worlds beneath, +Yet not beneath; for those entrancing spheres + Surround our earth as seas a barren isle. +Ours is the region of eternal fears; + Theirs is the region where God's radiant smile +Shines outward from the centre, and gives hope +Even to those who in the shadows grope. +They are not far from us. At first though long + And lone may seem the paths that intervene, + If ever on the staff of prayer we lean +The silence will grow eloquent with song +And our weak faith with certitude wax strong. + Intense, yet tranquil; fervent, yet serene, + He must be who would contact World Unseen +And comrade with their Amaranthine throng; +Not through the tossing waves of surging grief + Come spirit-ships to port. When storms subside, +Then with their precious cargoes of relief + Into the harbour of the heart they glide. +For him who will believe and trust and wait +Death's austere silence grows articulate. + + + +ASCENSION + + + +I have been down in the darkest water - + Deep, deep down where no light could pierce; +Alone with the things that are bent on slaughter, + The mindless things that are cruel and fierce. +I have fought with fear in my wave-walled prison, + And begged for the beautiful boon of death; +But out of the billows my soul has risen + To glorify God with my latest breath. + +There is no potion I have not tasted + Of all the bitters in life's large store; +And never a drop of the gall was wasted + That the lords of Karma saw fit to pour, +Though I cried as my Elder Brother before me, + 'Father in heaven, let pass this cup!' +And the only response from the still skies o'er me + Was the brew held close for my lips to sup. + +Yet I have grown strong on the gall Elysian, + And a courage has come that all things dares; +And I have been given an inner vision + Of the wonderful world where my dear one fares; +And I have had word from the great Hereafter - + A marvellous message that throbs with truth, +And mournful weeping has changed to laughter, + And grief has changed into the joy of youth. + +Oh! there was a time when I supped sweet potions, + And lightly uttered profound belief, +Before I went down in the swirling oceans + And fought with madness and doubt and grief. +Now I am climbing the Hills of Knowledge, + And I speak unfearing, and say 'I know,' +Though it be not to church, or to book, or college, + But to God Himself that my debt I owe. + +For the ceaseless prayer of a soul is heeded, + When the prayer asks only for light and faith; +And the faith and the light and the knowledge needed + Shall gild with glory the path to death. +Oh! heart of the world by sorrow shaken, + Hear ye the message I have to give: +The seal from the lips of the dead is taken, + And they can say to you, 'Lo! we live.' + + + +THE DEADLIEST SIN + + + + +There are not many sins when once we sift them. +In actions of evolving human souls +Striving to reach high goals +And falling backward into dust and mire, +Some element we find that seems to lift them +Above our condemnation--even higher +Into the realm of pity and compassion. +So beauteous a thing as love itself can fashion +A chain of sins; descending to desire, +It wanders into dangerous paths, and leads +To most unholy deeds, +And light-struck, walks in madness toward the night. + +Wrong oft-times is an over-ripened right, +A rank weed grown from some neglected flower, +The lightning uncontrolled: flames meant for joy +And beauty, used to ravage and destroy. +For sins like these repentance can atone. +There is one sin alone +Which seems all unforgivable, because +It springs from no temptation and no need +And no desire, save to make sweet faith bleed, +And to defame God's laws. +Oh! viler than the murderer or the thief +Who slays the body and who robs the purse, +Is he who strives to kill the mind's belief +And rob it of its hope +Of life beyond this little pain-filled span. +God has no curse +Quite dark enough to punish such a man, +Who, seeing how souls grope +And suffer in this world of mighty losses, +And how hearts stagger on beneath life's crosses, +Yet strives to rob them of their staff of faith +And make them think dark death +Ends all existence; think the worshipped child +Cold in its mother's arms is but a clod +And has not gone to God; +That souls united by love undefiled +And holy can by death be torn asunder +To meet no more. +It must be true that under +This earth of ours there lies a Purgatory +For those who seek to rob grief of the glory +That shines through hope of life immortal. In +Sin's lexicon this is the vilest sin - +Needless and cruel, ugly, gaunt and mean, +Without one poor excuse on which to lean, +A vandal sin, that with no hope of gain +Finds pleasure only in another's pain. + +God! though all other sins on earth persist, +Strike dumb the blatant, loud-mouthed atheist. + + + +THE RAINBOW OF PROMISE + + + +In the face of the sun are great thunderbolts hurled, + And the storm-clouds have shut out its light; +But a Rainbow of Promise now shines on the world, + And the universe thrills at the sight. + +'Tis the flag of our Union, the red, white, and blue, + Our Star-spangled Banner--our pride; +Fair symbol of all that is noble and true, + Flung out over continents wide. + +Flung out in its glory o'er land and o'er sea, + With a message from God in each star; +And a glorious promise of peace yet to be + In the fluttering folds of each bar. + +A Rainbow of Promise, bright emblem of hope, + Fair flag of each cause that is just; +No longer in doubt or in darkness we grope - + In the Star-spangled Banner we trust. + + + +THEY SHALL NOT WIN + + + +Whatever the strength of our foes is now, + Whatever it may have been, +This is our slogan, and this our vow - + They shall not win, they shall not win. + +Though out of the darkness they call the aid + Of the evil forces of Sin, +We utter our slogan unafraid - + They shall not win, they shall not win. + +We know we are right, and know they are wrong, + So to God above and within - +We make our vow and we sing our song + They shall not win, they shall not win. + +It rises over the shriek of shell, + And over the cannons' din: +Our slogan shall scatter the hosts of Hell - + They shall not win, they shall not win. + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, HELLO, BOYS! *** + +This file should be named helb10.txt or helb10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, helb11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, helb10a.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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