PS 1749 
 .G62 
 Copy 1 
 
 
 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
 
 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
Tff^ 
 
 J^^ 
 
 
 ^EXTUS p. fjODDAF^D. 
 
 ii J"^ C.Jo J 
 
 Worcester, ^$lal^.: 
 
 Lucius P. Goddard, 
 
 No. 425 Main Street. 
 1880. 
 
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 Enterea accoidii g to Act of Congress, in the year 1880, by 
 
 SEXTL'S P. GODDAED, 
 Inlthe Office of the Librarian of Congiess, at Waehirgton. 
 
Deae "Lelia," 
 
 To whom in inmost shrine of soul 
 Love 's purest thrills of joy ecstatic roll, 
 I dedicate this book to thee, and l^now 
 A smile of love from thee for me shall glow; 
 For any crystallized poetic thought, 
 That lies beneath these husks of language wrought, 
 Found life within the sunshine from thy soul; 
 That has with reflex light illumed life's whole. 
 
THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 
 
 Back along the lapse of ages, 
 Among the prehistoric pages, 
 The ancient garnering of the years, 
 The gathered cycles of the spheres, 
 Where circumstance continuous wrote, 
 Fantastic fancies freely float; 
 
 And mid the hieroglyphic signs 
 Past time has traced upon those lines. 
 May gain, retain, some gem of thought, 
 
 Which shall reveal how, when or where. 
 By chaos, chance or cosmos wrought, 
 
 Man 's pulsing life was quickened there. 
 
 That thousand titled tale to tell. 
 How Passions, Powers and Graces stole 
 
 Into, or did some force compel, 
 Their wondrous union in the soul. 
 
THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 
 
 Give answer to such thoughts as this, 
 How Passions wild with Graces fair 
 
 United, gender thrills of bliss, 
 Unknown but where such unions are. 
 
 'Tis midday, and upon the hills 
 
 Are resting myriad glory shades 
 Of color, which the sun distils 
 
 Where " Indian summer days " are laid. 
 
 Upon the grassy bank reclining, 
 
 That bounds a crystal streamlet 's flow, 
 To oblivion resigning 
 
 Those curious thoughts which come and go 
 As do cloud-like shadows flitting 
 
 In swift succession o'er the lea, 
 Which, upon the hillside sitting, 
 
 We see shift momentarily ; 
 Enraptured by the glories seen. 
 The beauty of the near-by scene. 
 The mystic glamour that o'erspread 
 The mountain, plain and valley's bed; 
 
THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 
 
 Enwound with tiny films of dreams, 
 
 Half sleep had woven round the soul ; 
 Transported by these varied gleams 
 
 That through such subtle channels stole, 
 Pouring the volume of their streams 
 
 In floods of fancy o'er my soul; 
 Until this perfect autumn day, 
 
 Its lights, its shades, its balmy air, 
 The pleasant bank whereon I lay, 
 
 The sparkling crystal streamlet there. 
 The distant hillside 's azure sheen. 
 The clearness of the nearer scene. 
 That perfect all — earth, air and sky' — 
 Became oblivious to the eye. 
 
 While back along the ages' lapse, 
 Through fancy 's medium, was seen 
 
 The primal origin, perhaps, 
 Of man: fair Eden's storied scene. 
 
 The valley 's counterpart was there, 
 The mountain side, the shady glen. 
 
 The balmy softness of the air 
 Enshrouding my reposure, when 
 
THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 
 
 These streams of fancies gliding in 
 Filled all my soul where fact had been. 
 
 There radiant in my fairy dream, 
 At ease reclining by the stream, 
 And beating with life 's pulses warm, 
 Behold, a perfect human form : 
 
 Perfect the shape of every part, 
 Perfect the pulsing of the heart; 
 Perfect in all that earth can give 
 A soul — a perfect place to live. ■ 
 
 But whether by command divine 
 
 This type of loveliness was formed, 
 And — crowning climax of design — 
 
 With His own life its pulses warmed ; 
 Or whether, as some savants say, 
 
 Affinities just right were there 
 To mold component parts of clay 
 
 Into a form so perfect, fair. 
 That with electric force combined 
 Could take or make a human mind : 
 Or whether, through the ages' lapse, 
 
 It slowly by selection grew, 
 From out of protoplasm perhaps, 
 
 According to its life 's demands; 
 
'THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 
 
 Losing to-day its claws, its tail, 
 Perchance to-morrow gaining hands, 
 
 But never with each change would fail 
 To rise to some more perfect plane 
 Of life — some slight advantage gain. 
 
 To these my vision did not reach, 
 
 Nor philosophic theory teach, 
 
 But plainly showed this model man, 
 
 In all that makes his form, or can. 
 
 Because of life, adorn its whole, 
 
 Without addition of a soul, 
 
 Whose passions, powers and graces, that, 
 
 No matter how obtained at first, 
 By chaos, chance or God 's fiat. 
 
 Come to us all — the best, the worst ; 
 Of this life 's accretions the whole, 
 The make, or maker, of the soul. 
 
 And there upon my vision 's field 
 
 Were Graces, Passions, Powers revealed. 
 
 Which in successive ages since. 
 
 Pursuant sleuth-hounds of man 's soul, 
 From where his infant ways commenced 
 
 Have ever followed to life 's goal. 
 
10 THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 
 
 To this fair form they all liad come 
 To take or make themselves a home. 
 There each expected on the throne 
 To sit, and rule this form alone. 
 
 But knowing only one could be 
 Acknowledged supreme majesty, 
 They all agreed this man might place 
 His choice of Passion, Power or Grace 
 Thereon ; but each reserved the right 
 Through skill, or grace of sound or sight, 
 To force all other claimants down * 
 And through man 's will secure the crown. 
 
 If I should fail to show the skill, 
 
 Rare sights and sounds they there displayed 
 To win this first of all our race. 
 
 To render each the claims they made, 
 Should fail to tell all you expect, 
 I trust that you will recollect 
 That only visions, day-dreams — 
 Like unto oft recurring gleams 
 
THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. H 
 
 From the watch-tower 's revolving light, 
 
 Upon some danger-rock at night — 
 
 Assisted likewise by the sum 
 
 Of life 's experience that has come 
 
 To me in years that intervene 
 
 Childhood and manhood 's time between — 
 
 That these this poem's source have been. 
 
 O'erlook all faults, fair readers, then, 
 
 If in your judgment I have done 
 A foolish thing, nor credit won 
 
 By sketching in rhythmatic rhyme 
 A panorama of the war 
 
 On battle-field of souls through time, 
 And countersign Excelsior. 
 
 But mark, as ages onward roll 
 The w^arfare rages in each soul 
 Which Chaos, Chance or Cosmos brings 
 
 Through Life 's gateway, by all forgot, 
 From shadow of oblivion 's wings 
 
 To substance of the coming — What? 
 
12 THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 
 
 But listen ! Do you hear those strains 
 
 Of witching melody afloat 
 On high ? And hark, they sound again - 
 
 An added sweetness in each note ; 
 While chiming, like a crystal bell, 
 With perfect cadence — "All is well." 
 
 Anon, afar among the trees 
 You hear the rustle of the breeze 
 Whispering sweet nothings to the leaves. 
 And nearer by, you do not know 
 From whence they come, above, below, 
 Those rapturous chords are sounding, 
 From the insect choirs abounding 
 In myriad millions in the air, 
 Too small for our discerning there. 
 
 And then the floods of melody. 
 In accents wild and free, that come 
 
 From throats of song-birds, that may be 
 Thus only calling birdlings home. 
 
 There songs of busy bees are heard, 
 Telling of treasure-laden things, 
 
 And richly plumaged humming birds 
 Make errie music with their wings. 
 
THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 13 
 
 But words of mine can never tell 
 Half the entrancing sounds that fell 
 With perfect harmony and rhythm ; 
 Paraphrase cannot portray them. 
 
 I only know that Music gave 
 Such perfect chords and harmonies, 
 
 That every grace became the slave 
 Of her entrancing melodies. 
 
 That ere each rapturous song was done, 
 Commenced a wilder, sweeter one, 
 Till all the earth and air resound 
 And thrill with sweet concentrate sound. 
 
 That just as waves which inward roll 
 
 Are lost in surf upon the shore, 
 These cloud-like. waves sweep o'er the soul, 
 
 Become but surf, then are no more ; 
 Except that each leaves only this. 
 
 An increased ecstasy of bliss ; 
 Until it seems the crown must be 
 
 Sweet Music 's lawful property. 
 
14 THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 
 
 Now tones of sweetest cadence rise — 
 Now fade away upon the breeze — 
 
 As sweet as soft seolian sighs, 
 Or zephyrs whispering through the leaves; 
 
 And wafted with each tone, some word 
 
 Of this exultant song was heard : 
 
 Most beauteous one ! Exquisite form \ 
 
 Oh, let there be 
 A perfect bond of friendship warm 
 
 'Twixt thee and me. 
 
 With open gates admit thy queen 
 
 Unto the throne ; 
 By Passions, Powers and Graces seen 
 
 To rule alone. 
 
 This world is bleak, but, with its gales, 
 
 Thou Shalt be blest 
 With glorious songs of nightingales 
 
 Bringing thee rest. 
 
THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 15 
 
 The wild, discordant thunder's roar, 
 
 The earthquake 's shock, 
 The rush of waves upon the shore 
 
 Of barren rock, 
 
 And all life's minor sounds, whose sum 
 
 Strange discord make. 
 Shall sweetest symphonies become 
 
 For thy dear sake. 
 
 But Music 's song was scarcely done 
 When Mirth — who had advantage won 
 Because incongruous tones, alone 
 When starting, had together flown — 
 Commenced, with most consummate art. 
 To gaily sing this burlesque part : 
 
16 THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 
 
 When we shall meet, in union sweet, 
 Upon some seat 
 
 By sylvan spring, then shall I sing : 
 You are my king 
 
 And I your queen ; no other seen 
 Has royal mien. 
 
 Though earth is bleak, electric freak. 
 Each startling squeak 
 
 Of opening door, the tempest 's roar 
 Upon the shore 
 
 Of hardest rock, the earthquake 's shock. 
 The crow of cock. 
 
 Shall melody become for thee 
 Eternally. 
 
 And with each gale shall never fail 
 Some nightingale, 
 
 Within thy heart, with wondrous art. 
 Sweet songs to start. 
 
THE PROIILEM OF LIFE. 17 
 
 Would I had power of language fine 
 To laugh like Mirth between the lines. 
 But skill of mirth evades all art; 
 She merely touches in the heart 
 Some hiddeu spring, and every door, 
 Time locked, flies open with a roar. 
 
 When on some breezy day in June 
 We ramble through the fields at noon, 
 Where birch and alder branches blow. 
 Across where rippling waters flow, 
 The songs of all the birds that dwell 
 In wood or field, on hill, in dell, 
 
 Break on the ear; successive notes 
 Of black-bird, thrush and plaintive wren, 
 
 Strange medleys from the bobolink 's.throat, 
 And e'en the craiking of the hen; 
 The distant cawing of the crows, 
 And those sweet songs that each one knows 
 Which blue-birds sing when winter breaks ; 
 The joyous strain the robin makes. 
 
18 THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 
 
 And endless chains of notes we hear 
 Which sound all foreign to the ear. 
 
 Startled we peer amid the leaves, 
 
 Now here, now there, as shifts the breeze. 
 
 Wondering, amid such wealth of tone 
 
 We cannot tell from whence they come ; 
 
 Cannot discern as hither blown 
 
 The feathered ones they started from. 
 
 But look, amid the leaves low down, 
 There sits and sings a thrasher brown. 
 All these exquisite songs have from 
 This unpretentious thrasher come; 
 Who imitates the every tone 
 That other songsters think their own, 
 So perfectly we do not know 
 But from originals they flow. 
 Yet mixed by him in such a muss 
 They sometimes seem just ludicrous. 
 
 So Mirth amid fine language hid, 
 That wondrous grace given to our race, 
 In turn shall mimic every one. 
 Their very look, and act, and tone. 
 
THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 19 
 
 Until what we had thought to be 
 Origiual sublimity, 
 Because we see the maker 's fuss, 
 Becomes as much ridiculous. 
 
 Then Alimentiveness assailed, 
 
 Amativeness its meshes spread. 
 To win where Mirth and Music failed ; 
 
 And not content with giving bread 
 To furnish strength whereby to live 
 
 Maintained that life to man is given 
 To take, enjoy all life can give, 
 
 To find all earth can grant of heaven 
 In food and drink and woman's smiles 
 And wanton acts and wicked wiles. 
 
 It were not needed here to show 
 What all with certainty must know — 
 That letting passions given to man 
 To gain, sustain and reproduce 
 
20 THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 
 
 This life of ours, do what we can 
 To life 's true source of bliss impart 
 To each aspiring human heart — 
 That letting these become the end 
 
 Instead of glorious source of life, 
 Eventually must always tend 
 
 To pain instead of bliss in life ; 
 And that the fruit which Adam ate 
 
 From off life 's knowledge tree so fair, 
 Trusting to reach the God-like state 
 
 Because of promise to him there. 
 Was only passion used amiss 
 To gain this earth 's forbidden bliss, 
 And thus sin 's foul miasma stole 
 Into this perfect living soul. 
 
 Thus Adam fell, and so within 
 Fierce agonies of guilt there are ; 
 
 And Eve, his counterpart in sin, 
 Shall dark remorse forever share. 
 
THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 21 
 
 Now as we trace the ebb and flow 
 
 Of feeling, fancy, passion, grace, 
 And all the vaiious gifts we know 
 
 Each individual of the race 
 In some degree must actuate. 
 
 We may perchance discover what, 
 If aught, our souls may permeate, 
 
 That perfect bliss shall be our lot. 
 
 Did ye ever see an eagle 
 
 From its eyrie rock descending 
 
 Upon its prey? Note the struggle 
 
 , Of its victim when ascending? 
 
 Or standing ou some mountain 's height 
 Above dark clouds that roll below, 
 
 Didst see the wind 's and lightning's flight 
 Destroy all beauty where they go ? 
 
 Thus imagine Hate descending 
 Unto this glorious form for prey — 
 
 Note the blight that he is sending 
 Where all was fair but yesterday. 
 
22 THE PnOBLEM OF LIFE. 
 
 If ye have ever felt hate 's grasp 
 
 Closing around your struggling soul, 
 All vain your efforts to unclasp 
 
 Its fastening, or its folds unroll. 
 Ye need not speculate, ye know 
 
 That wrecks lie thick where hate has been; 
 And perhaps have learned this lesson 
 
 In life 's hard experience school, 
 That hate wounds deepest the person 
 
 Who would wield it — the greater fool. 
 
 But listen to the words that from 
 This passion to this form have come : 
 
 And ye amid this world ^s beauties 
 Have thought eternally to roam ; 
 
 With love 's, mirth's and music's duties 
 And appetites surcharged, have home. 
 
 But know these powers and graces fair 
 Shall never yield you pleasure here ; 
 I have a fund of hate in store 
 Enough to palsy them, aye more ; 
 
THE l^ROBLEM OF LIFE. 23 
 
 Ye all shall yet with grief bewail 
 
 Ye ever met me in this vale, 
 
 For I have sworn an oath to try 
 
 To wound, destroy or cause to die, 
 
 All those bright hopes which any may 
 
 Ever indulge of endless day, 
 
 Where they can sip of pleasures sweet — 
 
 Quaff from life's goblet bliss complete. 
 
 And then with glance that gleamed like fire, 
 A mixture fierce of gloom and ire, 
 And sullen wrath so fierce, so — well, 
 It spake yet more than words can tell — 
 He cursed them all with oaths so sere 
 
 I will not stain this poem 's page, 
 Or strain with pain the reader 's ear 
 
 Their full import to gain or gauge ; 
 But hope our lives may never lead 
 Where hate will rule our thought and deed. 
 
 Next green-eyed Jealousy arose 
 
 And swept o'er Adam 's storm-tossed soul, 
 Fleet as an arrow onward goes 
 
 Until it strike and pierce its goal. 
 
24 THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 
 
 She said that none spake any word 
 That thrilled in her an answering chord; 
 Jealousy is the only one 
 Who can be found beneath the sun 
 Who has no faithful bosom friend 
 To whom they can with safety lend 
 Their secrets and not have them told, 
 So they may yield an hundred fold 
 Of malice, scorn and gilded lies, 
 Replete as dragon flies with eyes. 
 
 They all wei-e seeking for their own, 
 
 Nor cared how, when or where were blown 
 
 The roses she had hoped might grow 
 
 Along her pathway here below: 
 
 To win a crown she would not strive, 
 
 For all her powers were bound witli gyves. 
 
 Some may profess to wish success 
 To rest with me and my address, 
 Yet probably I shall not be 
 Beyond their sight before they see, 
 Or think they find in what they hear. 
 Some wrong or idle word somewhere. 
 In such a way that any one 
 Can see they wish some action done 
 
THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 25 
 
 To rank me with infernal sprites, 
 
 Who, fallen from imperial heights. 
 
 Diverted on their downward course 
 
 By some resistless magnet 's force, 
 
 And by the swiftness of the fall 
 
 Bereft of every charm and all 
 
 The grace and beauty that were theirs 
 
 While dwelHng in celestial spheres, 
 
 Now only live to poison bliss, 
 
 Yet found in some by-paths of this. 
 
 I never nursed a friendship dear 
 But witli its consummation near, 
 Conflicting loves were sure to rise 
 And bear away my wished-for prize. 
 
 I never strove with patient toil 
 To win the right to trust and fame, 
 
 But all my efforts would recoil 
 And yield some other one the same. 
 
 I never wooed a maiden 's heart 
 But when she knew that mine was won 
 
 And safely pinioned with the dart 
 That Cupid 's bended bow had thrown. 
 
26 THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 
 
 She then would stoop to coquette where 
 Eeauty, wealth or fame might be 
 
 Combined with reputation fair, 
 Or e'en the slightest chance might see 
 
 To win that woman 's valued prize — 
 
 A love glance from admiring eyes. 
 
 But lo I a fairer grace appears ; 
 Sweet Hope, thy magic tones we hear. 
 In accents clear, so rich, so rare. 
 Breaking on the mellow air. 
 Like crystal tones old Time has given 
 To tell the old, new way to heaven. 
 
 And, as o'er man 's impassioned soul 
 
 Her crystal tones in wave-chords roll. 
 
 The green-eyed monster quick departs: 
 
 Bright Hope steps in and sways man 's heart. 
 
 And sweetly says — Must this be so. 
 
 That we care uot for others? No, 
 
 Oh no; to me the world is bright, 
 
 Nor dimmed by shade, nor marred by blight; 
 
THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 27 
 
 Its tones are keyed in accents sweet 
 To scenes of bliss we oft shall meet 
 While dwelling in a world like this. 
 Kind words, dear friends, caress and kiss, 
 All prove a source of joy complete, 
 Forever present, ever sweet. 
 
 Think not that bitter all shall be 
 The fruit that time shall yield to thee. 
 But know that sweet, as well as sour, 
 Awaits our tasting, hour by hour; 
 For time life 's pathway oft has strewn 
 With blossoms that from hope have blown, 
 And there are many buds to bloom 
 For us; light shall illume life 's gloom, 
 Shall shine athwart our lives and make 
 Dark doubt retreat, sweet hope awake, 
 And yield a harvest rich in bliss- 
 ful hours along the years of this. 
 
 And then the hope, sweet hope, that life 
 Extends beyond this lower life; 
 That in some realm celestial, fair. 
 Where all pure spirits gathered are. 
 
THE PrxOBLEM OF LIFE. 
 
 Life's full elixir we may gain, 
 And free from doubt and care and pain. 
 Beneath life 's trees exulting roam, 
 Where evil thoughts can never come ; 
 There with earth 's pains and tasks all done, 
 Rejoice because life 's rest is won. 
 
 Sometimes when life seems bright and clear, 
 
 As I stand near its castle gate, 
 I lose all thought of what is here 
 
 And only note the joys that wait 
 Our taking in those gardens fair 
 
 That by the holy city lie; 
 To hear the sounds and breathe the air 
 
 That wait us in the by-and-by. 
 
 Though rugged mounts and darksome vales 
 We toiling traverse to life 's shore, 
 
 Though burning sands and wrecking gales 
 We all shall meet yet more and more, 
 
 And mid shadows of the valley 
 
 Of death, our life 's forces rally. 
 
 We sometime may reach the fair heights 
 Where the Castle Beautiful stands : 
 
THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 29 
 
 Perceive in the distance the lights, 
 
 Catch tones from that beautiful land, 
 Which is, through faith 's intuition, 
 Known as life 's perfect fruition. 
 
 But see, who now is drawing near 
 
 As Hope concludes ? Ah, it is Fear, 
 
 Who dared while Hope with burning speech 
 
 Spake of the life she hoped to reach, 
 
 To venture out from where was made 
 
 His dismal lair, in deepest shade ; 
 
 And like as mists at set of sun 
 
 Arise and veil what day has done, 
 
 Gathering thickest everywhere 
 
 The earth 's most verdant valleys are. 
 
 So Fear arose, unseen, and stole 
 
 Like night 's miasma o'er the soul, 
 
 Completely veiling all the light 
 
 By Hope transmitted to his sight; 
 
 Fearful stood with quivering form, 
 
 Like aspen leaves before the storm ; 
 
30 THE PliOBLEM OF LIFE. 
 
 Dared not to look at aught around, 
 But stands with gaze fixed on the ground, 
 Until there breaks upon his ear 
 Murmur of other passions near: 
 Then all his being takes alarm 
 At some imagined thing of harm, 
 And hurries back, on fleet feet borne, 
 Into the darkness all alone, 
 To muse upon the dismal fate 
 Reserved for him through others' hate. 
 
 These are his thoughts when by himself: 
 I would forego all power, all wealth, 
 All this world 's honor and renown, 
 If all alone I might sit down 
 To rest my weary self in peace. 
 But no ! ray fears shall never cease 
 To drive me on through life's dark maze 
 Until its retribution days; 
 Then, oh, the dread, the mortal dread — 
 It presses like a weight of lead — 
 That Scorn and Hate and Jealousy 
 Will follow to eternity, 
 
THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 31 
 
 And whelm me in a gulf of pain 
 From which I ne'er shall rise again. 
 
 O Mercy ! Save me from them now, 
 
 For Hell itself can yield no woe 
 Equal to those that seize me now. 
 
 O Mercv ! Save me, save me, do. 
 
 Just then, beneath the wail of woe 
 From this fair soul, began the flow 
 Of that invidious wanton 's wrongs 
 Who claims the more the less belongs; 
 Envy her name, and hour by hour 
 
 She comes to those who self alone 
 Desire to raise to place or power; 
 
 And cannot bear that odors blown, 
 Freely for the use of any, 
 
 Or Music 's measures sweetly moved 
 And tuned to joy the hearts of many, 
 
 Should be by other beings loved : 
 Nor gift, nor gem that any one 
 
 May have or gain and dearly prize, 
 But she, who not an act has done 
 
 To win, shall see with envious eyes. 
 
32 THE rnOBLEM OF LIFE. 
 
 Her voice, to man before unknown, 
 
 Now speaks the first alluring word ; 
 Desires to rule upon the throne, 
 
 Be smart, be famous, be absurd ; 
 Gain all the treasures on the brink 
 Of life 's horizon, though they sink 
 Beyond reclaim the human bark 
 With which she sails the unknown dark. 
 
 Nor star may shine, nor flower may bloom 
 
 To glow and scent some sweet retreat 
 Wi^h silver light and rich perfume, 
 
 But Envy glides on footsteps fleet 
 To heart of each admiring one. 
 
 Suggesting that 't were perfect bliss, 
 And only justice to them done. 
 
 To write them title deeds of this. 
 
 Nor Grace, nor Power, nor Passion warm, 
 Which dwells within the human form. 
 But Envy claims came down from heaven 
 To serve as her life-giving leaven. 
 
THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 33 
 
 But wild Eevenge is coming now 
 With hatred stamped upon his brow, 
 The dark imprint, I care not how ; 
 And when he spalve, the savage cry 
 Of " Hence ye cravens, every one," 
 Scorched like a meteoric stone ; 
 " For I have sworn by all below 
 Not any from this vale shall go 
 Until the victor's wreath shall crown 
 My triumph over foes struck down, 
 And ye have learned my joy in life 
 Is gained in waging constant strife; 
 That my life 's hope shall ever rise 
 To this : That none may realize 
 Aught of the hopes within their breast 
 But lose all joy, all peace, all rest." 
 
 Then throwing down his battle gage 
 He swore an oath of fiery rage 
 That all within this sylvan bower 
 Should feel his fierce, consuming power. 
 
 And such a wave, all glowing liot, 
 A passion spasm, that I would not 
 Endure for all the pearls and gems 
 And gold in all the diadems 
 
34 THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 
 
 Of sultan, emperor and king, 
 
 Or any material thing, 
 
 Broke like a whirlwind o'er his soul : 
 
 And like shifting sands, lifted, driven 
 Onward by the sirocco's roll, 
 
 Or tough oaks by the lightnings riven, 
 They all were scattered far and wide 
 Beyond the vale; and none beside 
 Himself were there Revenge could wage 
 His warfare on, and so the rage 
 He raised to break those other wills 
 Recoiled tempestuous on his. 
 
 For, as huge waves whose storm-born speed 
 
 Has borne them here from other shores, 
 Must cause a current that shall lead 
 
 Their waters back to those same shores, 
 So all the evil thoughts we think. 
 
 And all our evil actions done. 
 Within our hearts shall sometime sink 
 
 Unto the source from whence they sprung. 
 
 But did I say that none had dared 
 To brave his vengeful wrath, or cared 
 To see such imps of passion born ? 
 Yes, there was one — cold, stinging Scorn, 
 
THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 35 
 
 Who dared to brave the fiercest glow 
 
 Of passion at the whitest heat 
 That hot Reveuge can ever show, 
 
 Accept the gage cast at her feet, 
 And with sarcasm's cold contempt 
 Succeed in foiling each attempt 
 Revenge could make in any way 
 To stem the tide and win the day; 
 For each contemptuous look induced, 
 
 And every scornful gleam of thought, 
 Froze deeper than the cold produced 
 
 By freely mixing ice with salt. 
 
 But these were naught compared with those 
 
 Wild waves of scorn that broke e'er long 
 Across her soul, and then arose 
 
 In such a burst of scornful song 
 As made the very place grow cold 
 
 And freeze and crackle like the ice 
 Upon some lake where skaters bold 
 
 Defy at night old Boreas. 
 
 But as a meteor shining bright 
 Sweeps onward with resistless force, 
 
 Leaving but traces of its light. 
 So only dimly is the course 
 
THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 
 
 Of Scorn 's sarcastic song outlined 
 By recollections of the mind : 
 
 And ye dare think the victor's wreath 
 Can flourish green on thy fierce brow, 
 
 When raging passion, underneath, 
 Your very soul is blasting now; 
 
 To think that victory can be 
 Worth anything to such as thee ; 
 And dare to ask us to believe 
 That vile Revenge could even live; 
 Or, if he lived, could still receive 
 A crown, when there was none to give. 
 
 Yes, I have heard, methinks, somewhere, 
 Of some legend in times of old, 
 
 In which a nymph of beauty rare 
 Entranced the eye of a Cyclops bold. 
 
 Failing to win the sought-for prize 
 
 Or gain one love-glance from her eyes, 
 
 He slew and took her to his home 
 
 To adorn his favorite room, 
 
 And wild with passion, hot with wine. 
 
 Labelled with blood, " This one is mine." 
 
THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 37 
 
 And just so much of loveliness, 
 
 Of grace, of beauty and of bliss 
 
 As this poor fool so dearly won , 
 
 May there, when your vile task is done, 
 
 Remain to you of victory's bliss. 
 
 Labelled with blood " I have won this." 
 
 Oh fool ! to think your crown can shine 
 With beauty, when all beauty 's dead ; 
 
 Can see fair grace in every line. 
 When every trace of grace has fled. 
 
 You dare to think that loveliness 
 For you may glow resplendent, fair, 
 
 When all there ever was in this 
 Has gone to worlds some other-where ; 
 
 And, more than fool, art hoping now 
 The victor's wreath shall deck your brow, 
 And also thinking, hoping even. 
 That all of hope from earth is driven ; 
 
 Art trusting with implicit faith 
 
 That Passions, Graces every one 
 Shall at your crowning be, when Faith 
 
 And every sister Grace is gone. 
 
38 THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 
 
 I scorn thee and defy thee too, 
 For all passions are immortal ; 
 
 Each grace unto its nature true, 
 Changed only by the Eternal 
 
 One who made them, and will keep them 
 
 As gems for His own diadem. 
 
 Friends and fair readers, can you tell 
 With what you may employ your powers 
 
 And spend your time with profit, well 
 Enjoy and fill with bliss your hours ? 
 
 Bunyan 's progress of the pilgrim 
 Gives this saying in some hymn — 
 And certainly it is not bad — 
 " The more he gave, the more he had; " 
 
 And whether this be true of gold 
 
 And other like material things, 
 We know a wealth of joy untold 
 
 Is wafted oft on Pity 's wings; 
 And that each silken thread we spin 
 
 Through pity for some wronged one 's woe, 
 
THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 
 
 May serve as warp or woof within 
 
 Our robe of life, where it shall glow 
 Like priceless gems of perfect grace 
 Which in our human hearts find place; 
 
 That though from earth may never rise 
 So much of vapor to the skies 
 As from old ocean 's watery bed 
 Is by the wind and sun 's power led, 
 Sometime the willing earth shall gain 
 Its portion of the blessed rain, 
 Which with sunlight and heat shall bring 
 The beauty of the glorious spring. 
 
 ,So if sweet pity in our lives 
 For any woe is free to rise, 
 It may from its eternal source 
 Increase its volume and its force. 
 And to our thirsting souls yet bring 
 The graces of the moral spring. 
 
 Yes, Pity, like the dews which from 
 Amid the darkness often come. 
 Shall all the gloom of moral night 
 Illume with rays of dawning light. 
 
40 THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 
 
 I come all passions to restrain 
 From words and actions giving pain; 
 For, if this world yields anything 
 That sorrow to our hearts may bring, 
 It is the wrong which rankles there, 
 Until what once was bright and fair, 
 By fiercely raging passions torn, 
 Is of its native beauty shorn. 
 
 Then let not any voice be heard 
 To speak against the weak one word, 
 Nor any one to strike a blow 
 To injure people high or low. 
 
 Though strange may seem a life like this, 
 I know it is the source of bliss; 
 For these, the actions that we do, 
 The actions that we do not do. 
 Alone can prove us equal to 
 Do all which duty calls to do. 
 
 Think of the mercy God has shown 
 For all the wrong that man has done, 
 Leading them upward as His own. 
 To sing the song of victory won. 
 
THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 41 
 
 Then how can we, with mercy given. 
 Eeject this gift and lose our heaven ; 
 For mercy that we will not show 
 Can never crown our lives, you know. 
 
 But sliarp-eyed Curiosity 
 Is coming now, searching to see 
 What wonders of the earth and sea 
 In this fair Eden-world may be. 
 
 How quiet o'er the soul she creeps 
 And takes possession while it sleeps — 
 Softly gliding, as fades the light 
 Into deep darkness of the night, 
 Or, as at early morning dawn 
 Before we know the night has gone — 
 Transfusing fancies through its dreams, 
 Perhaps but transitory gleams 
 Of times before this globe had made 
 
 The first grand circuit of the spheres, 
 Or any planet's course was laid 
 
 Far back among the circling years; 
 
42 THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 
 
 And as the while he wakes from sleep 
 The wonder grows, and he would know 
 
 How these same spheres their circuits keep 
 Through all the spaces where they go ; 
 
 And longings wild come surging in 
 Like ocean surf upon the shore, 
 
 To learn where all of life begins; 
 Or, if it ever was before, 
 
 How transmigration has been made, 
 And where, if we forever live, 
 
 Our future course of life is laid, 
 Or what advantage it can give. 
 
 Yes, Curiosity has power 
 
 To charm our souls in weary hours ; 
 
 Because of it, man often strives 
 
 To win the power that knowledge gives ; 
 
 Gives nights to study, days to toil, 
 
 And burns for years the midnight oil ; 
 
 Because of it he dares the heat 
 Of scorching suns and burning sands 
 
 At summer's solstice, when they meet 
 At noon in equatorial lands ; 
 
THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. ^3 
 
 Will sometimes brave the fiercest cold 
 
 Upon some frozen polar shore, 
 Merely for hope to there behold 
 
 Things others had not seen before ; 
 
 Will sail far up above the clouds 
 
 Sustained by only bags of gas; 
 And in exulting throngs will crowd 
 
 To any dark and dangerous pass, 
 If only just a glimpse is seen 
 Of lands where man has never been. 
 
 He dares to plunge beneath the waves. 
 
 To tread upon the ocean 's floor, 
 To live the very life of slaves, 
 
 Walk boldly through the open door 
 Straight to the city of the dead, 
 If Curiosity be fed. 
 
 What wonder then that this one, who 
 
 Had only just begun to feel 
 The wish to know, desire to do. 
 
 Should let this curious fairy steal, 
 Without resistance on his part. 
 
 Into possession of his heart. 
 
44 THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 
 
 But see, alas, no crown descends 
 Of myrtle leaves to deck her brow, 
 
 For such fierce longings only tend 
 To make her chances smaller now. 
 
 Ah! ye the crown shall never win, 
 For to the heart where ye have been. 
 Rare Beauty's form, resplendent, fine, 
 Transcendent grace in every line. 
 Is coming now to win the prize. 
 
 Ye Passions, Graces, all, arise. 
 Salute this glorious, wondrous witch. 
 Adorned with gems abounding, rich 
 In all imagination 's given 
 To any form this side of heaven. 
 
 Not as Curiosity came. 
 
 Gliding silently to her work, 
 Nor softly as when one would tame 
 
 Some heart where warring passions lurk, 
 But like the lightning 's swift descent 
 On some destroying mission sent, 
 
THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 45 
 
 Transfixing by a single glance 
 And making instant entrance; 
 Or as a meteor's sudden light 
 Bursting on darkness of the night, 
 With its inimitable sheen 
 Of light illuminates the scene : 
 So Beauty seems to mankind 's sight 
 Quintessence of concentrate light. 
 
 Dazed by the splendor of her ways, 
 The brilliant outlines of her form. 
 
 Her ease, her grace and subtle plays 
 Of light that came and went, as warm, 
 
 Soft tints of color come and go 
 Upon the clouds, or like the flow 
 Of those electric waves of light 
 Sometimes illuminating night. 
 
 He casts aside all other thought, 
 
 Content if he can worship this 
 Fair form, that to his eyes is fraught 
 
 With all earth has of loveliness. 
 And, basking in her smiles, forget 
 Awhile that life has labor yet. 
 
46 THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 
 
 But as the rays that give us light, 
 And yield the prism 's glories bright, 
 Do also sometimes yield a heat 
 That scorches everything it meets, 
 
 So Beauty 's rays, bright, glorious, fair, 
 Scorched all his heart, until despair 
 Arose therein and seethed and burned 
 
 And raged hotter, fiercer than fires 
 To which victorious Michael turned 
 
 ApoUyon, and to which all liars 
 And the beast and the false prophet, 
 According to St. John, shall get. 
 
 And like as those who dwell far up 
 Upon some lofty mountain's top 
 Ejiow first when heat or cold or wind 
 Or calm or any change portend, 
 Feeling with keener pain the shock 
 Because of the adjacent rock. 
 And ether in surrounding space 
 Is all the bulwark for the place, 
 
 So those who charmed by winning grace 
 Of form, or features of the face, 
 
THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 47 
 
 Dwell higher up in realms of bliss, 
 
 Where only fancies go between 
 This idol of their loveliness 
 
 And all the great unknown, unseen, 
 That, far beyond our visions ken, 
 In the far past of time has been, 
 At present is, shall ever be 
 Known only to Infinity; 
 
 So too shall soonest feel the surge 
 
 Of all the tides that ever roll 
 From off life 's most eccentric verge, 
 
 Converging on the human soul ; 
 And wilder, fiercer, keener be 
 The conflict, because that beauty. 
 Like ether round the mountain 's height, 
 Affords no bulwark for the right. 
 
 But ye all know when summer's sun 
 
 Has burned the earth and scorched the air, 
 Till all that heat can do is done 
 
 Before the smoke and flames appear, 
 And life itself seems giving way 
 
 Before the withering tides of heat. 
 That swell with each recurring day. 
 
 Until some ebbing tide they meet 
 
THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 
 
 Upou the far horizon 's verge, 
 
 Which by its drier, cooler air 
 The latent mists of these submerge 
 
 In clouds, that on their bosom bear 
 Electric glowing veins of fire. 
 
 Burning the impure parts away, 
 When rain descends, the mists rise higher, 
 
 The bow appears, a brighter day 
 Breaks with rich promise to our view; 
 Through fire all things shall become new. 
 
 And ye have seen the tiny stream 
 That babbles on between its banks, 
 
 Keflecting only scattering beams 
 Of life atween its grasses' ranks, 
 
 Which, like night sentries, march their beat, 
 
 And halt and turn whene'er they meet; 
 
 Or mayhap stopped, when half their course 
 Is marched, by some opposing force, 
 Awhile, resume again their way, 
 Going, coming through all the day. 
 Upward, downward, to left or right. 
 Almost veiling the stream from sight. 
 
THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 49 
 
 And ye have seen when men have stayed 
 
 The stream until its waters spread 
 And all the ranks of grass o'erlaid, 
 
 Covering all the valley 's bed, 
 Till some great rain, by adding force 
 
 And volume to its gathering tide, 
 Made it resistless in its course, 
 
 That, with one sweep, it cast aside 
 All barriers which man had made. 
 
 And lookers on with bated breath 
 Beholding wrecks and ruins laid 
 
 On every side, apparent death 
 To all of life which flourished there, 
 Have said, " How sad a vale so fair. 
 Should, by such accident from heaven, 
 To perpetual waste be given." 
 
 Have seen again above this waste, 
 
 Fed by the debris that it left, 
 A richer harvest in quick haste 
 
 Arise than that of which bereft. 
 
 And so when dark despair has burned 
 
 And scorched the human mind, 
 Until its brightest hopes are turned. 
 
 Like summer 's hot and withering wind, 
 4 
 
50 THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 
 
 To surging clouds, where bolts of fier- 
 y vengeance come and go in swift 
 
 Succession, rising fiercer, higher, 
 Till filled the measure of its guilt: 
 
 And pressing, like the surging tide 
 Of waters that man's skill has dammed 
 
 But failed to hold, will cast aside 
 All thought but this: My powers are dammed; 
 
 And feel, aye, almost know the pain 
 
 Wrecked souls, on reaching Hades, gain. 
 
 May then the bow of promise span 
 The way of each despairing man, 
 That they may know, as lightnings burn 
 
 The impure parts of air away, 
 So fierce despair has power to turn 
 
 The key that opes the gate of day; 
 
 That floods which sweep our treasures down 
 Beyond where we may ever go. 
 
 May at their ebbing leave behind 
 Debris gathered in their flow. 
 
 That in our own or other's field. 
 
 Shall an abundant harvest yield. 
 
THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 51 
 
 Then after Passion, Power and Grace 
 Had failed to gain the soiight-for place. 
 While light and shade of Beauty 's form 
 
 And all those witching strains which fill 
 The soul with ecstacy as warm 
 
 As chords from angel Israfil, 
 
 That gain w^hile fading added charm, 
 Like distant murmuring of the bees, 
 
 As in the Jayadeva psalm 
 They swarm amid the Amra trees ; 
 
 Before as yet were quite forgot 
 
 The various feelings that had stirred 
 
 His soul to such fierce tumult, but 
 "Were now like far off music heard; 
 
 Or softer Graces, that had lent 
 Such glories as they came and went, 
 This world would yield all perfect bliss 
 Should they but always glow like this ; 
 
 While many powers that seemed to be 
 Just given for some utility, 
 To measure distance, time or weight, 
 Discern the color, know the heat, 
 
52 THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 
 
 Or realize the differing states 
 Of change in forces which they meet, 
 While these, and all that sought to reign, 
 Defeated, menials remain. 
 
 ' T was then this perfect human form, 
 With such magnificence endowed 
 
 Of every grace and passion warm, 
 Became vainglorious and proud ; 
 
 While Grace and Beauty, Strength^and Skill, 
 Failing alike to mount the throne. 
 
 Became the servants of his will ; 
 Will ruled upon the throne alone. 
 
 But oft the ministers he chose 
 To execute his will, were those 
 Who rather ruin should be piled 
 In dark disorder, than the mild 
 And gentle ones, who seek to do 
 All things equitable and true. 
 
THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 53 
 
 So Pride at present was the one 
 By whom Will chose his service done ; 
 And Pride said : " Are not all these ours, 
 These wondrous Graces, Passions, Powers ? 
 Behold, are we not mighty, strong. 
 Endowed with all to gods belong?" 
 
 And with an attitude like this 
 
 And boastings full of many I 's, 
 He seemed to claim exclusiveness 
 
 Of swelling to enormous size : 
 
 And as the moon by borrowed light 
 Illumes the earth 's expanse at night, 
 And, because of nearness, seems to 
 Be most glorious to the view — 
 
 Whilst suns, in size and volumed light 
 As much beyond this orb of night 
 As. are the spans of untold space, 
 Between us and their dwelling-place, 
 Beyond the measured miles that lie 
 This side this mirror in the sky — 
 So rays reflected by Pride's brass 
 Attend the brayings of this ass. 
 
54 THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 
 
 Through the long night of ignorance 
 About such shrines all fools will dance ; 
 
 Perceiving in some Ingersoll — 
 Keflecting straggling rays of light, 
 
 Resounding too, from crown to sole, 
 Among the votaries of night. 
 
 With all the clanging crash of brass 
 And roaring of escaping gas — 
 A greater than divinity — 
 Finite above Infinity. 
 
 But Malice follows close on Pride — 
 Indeed, they flourish side by side; 
 Pride turns the crank that moves the wheel 
 From which the threads of malice reel. 
 
 Sometimes, beneath the ocean 's wave. 
 
 Extended on its slimy bed. 
 Like seaweed that the billows lave, 
 
 And looking like their detached, dead 
 Parts, drifting onward with the tide, 
 The cruel devil-fish abide ; 
 
THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 55 
 
 Watching, waiting, with wondrous will. 
 
 Without e'en the slightest motion 
 To reveal their presence, until 
 
 Some one in old ocean 
 Would bathe his aching, weary frame, 
 
 Or searching for some wrecks of old. 
 That, midst the tempest foundering, came 
 
 Down hither, bearing life and gold ; 
 
 Bathing or searching, buoyed by hope, 
 Amid the mysteries they grope. 
 Until they unsuspecting stand 
 Within reach of its myriad hands; 
 
 So slowly, smoothly, silently, 
 
 Their slimy feelers slide around 
 Whoever may their victim be, 
 
 That not until securely bound 
 And held beyond reclaim within 
 Their clasp, does e'en alarm begin. 
 
 Just so proud mortals often go 
 In search of joys they claim as theirs, 
 
 Or midst wild wrecks, of which they know, 
 Gone down amid life's toils and cares. 
 
56 THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 
 
 Are pleasure seeking and claiming, 
 As justly theirs, the treasure-trove 
 
 That among the wrecks is lying — 
 Fame, Friendship, Fortune and Fair Love 
 
 And blinded by the pleasures, or 
 By glitter of the treasures, for 
 Which they earnestly are seeking, 
 They notice not Malice creeping 
 
 Its slow and stealthy way within, 
 Until enwound by malice-thought 
 
 Those immortal struggles begin 
 That each victorious soul has fous;ht. 
 
 Ah ! who that broods upon his wrong, 
 Nurses dark Malice in his heart. 
 
 But feels Remorse within ere long 
 Like clouds of scalding vapor start. 
 
 Methought that there that wondrous form, 
 So proud, so beautiful, and warm 
 
THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 57 
 
 With all passions beating within, 
 
 Was struggling in the slow, sure pressure 
 That fain would free the soul from sin : 
 
 Not because it loves right better, 
 But because sin 's heat is burning 
 
 So intensely life 's a burden 
 Too heavy for constant turning 
 
 Without hope and without guerdon. 
 
 Did ye ever note the writhing 
 Of a serpent's form when dying, 
 And have ye seen that last, last gasp 
 That shows us when life's cords unclasp? 
 
 Have ye seen a vessel drifting 
 
 Amid the storm-tossed foaming waves, 
 With its masts and rudder missing 
 
 And rolling broadside to the waves ; 
 A toy upon the waste of waters 
 
 Wild, at the mercy of the storm. 
 Time 's alarm-beat sounding quarters 
 
 With echo tones, the lightning's form? 
 Did ye hear the wild entreaty 
 
 And the fierce, almost frantic prayer 
 That Omnipotence would pity 
 
 Their condition, protect them there; 
 
08 THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 
 
 But changing, like the lightning's flash, 
 To imprecations frantic, wild ; 
 
 Cursings that ofttimes would abash 
 The very devil 's blatant child ? 
 
 Didst note the horror depicted 
 Upon the passion-mirrored face, 
 
 See the agony reflected 
 Amid supplications for grace? 
 
 If so, ye have some conception 
 Of the horror-pulsing tone and look 
 
 Of which Remorse's reception 
 By this glorious form partook. 
 
 But close upon Remorse crowds Doubt, 
 
 Corroding by its acrid air 
 The very springs of life, without 
 
 Whose force death reigns triumphant there; 
 Dispelling lights that make the sum 
 
 Of life 's experience replete 
 With flashes that have backward came 
 
 From where life 's radii shall meet. 
 
THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 59' 
 
 There is an elemental force 
 
 Whose universal presence yields 
 And keeps life 's currents on their course, 
 
 And yet disintegration wields : 
 
 ' T is oxygen, whose force supplies 
 Our life, our light, and gives us heat, 
 
 Yet is the agency that lies 
 Athwart where life with death shall meet. 
 
 So doubts a double power possess. 
 The power to raise to life and light, 
 
 If we are willing to confess 
 Our doubt — in earnest seek the right; 
 
 The power to doom us to defeat, 
 
 Corrode and canker all our soul, 
 If doubt and ignorance shall meet 
 
 And block the highway to life 's goal. 
 
60 THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 
 
 But ye have heard that pulsing moan 
 TrembUng on the electric wire, 
 
 Interpretation of whose tone 
 Is thought to be the fit umpire 
 
 Of any storms or heats or colds 
 
 The coming of the morrow holds. 
 
 What crystal stillness of the air; 
 
 No stir of leaf nor sway of grass 
 To break the silence reigning there, 
 
 Or veil those pulse-beats as they pass : 
 
 So in my dream that lovely form ■ 
 Was veiled in silence and repose ; 
 
 Revealed but pulse-beats of the storm 
 Of melancholy thoughts that rose, 
 
 And, trembling on its sensuous nerves. 
 Prophetic told of dark Dismay — 
 
 That last fierce passion fate reserves 
 As scourge for sin, before the day 
 
 Of faith 's resplendent light shall dawn, 
 And start the buds of hope again 
 
 Where'er despair or doubt have gone 
 To reap sin 's harvest field of pain. 
 
THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 61 
 
 Malicious Malice ! Do thy utmost will 
 Before life 's pulsing currents all are still; 
 
 But know, tlio' doubt, remorse and fierce contempt 
 Shall yield a harvest for thy each attempt, 
 
 While seeds of hope upon thy barren soil 
 Shall wither and decay, despite life 's toil 
 
 Amid thy rank weeds' pestilential growth, 
 Though melancholy and dismay may both 
 
 A wild luxuriance of harvest yield, 
 Ungarnered left to seed again the field, 
 
 There yet are graces coming to distill, 
 Amid thy wrecks, influences that will 
 
 Scatter anew the seeds of hope, and bring 
 After thy reign the sunlight back again ; 
 
 For never yet were ruins piled so high 
 
 Of those wrecked lives that on life 's highway lie, 
 
 Nor ever moral cyclone swept the world 
 
 Of truth, and some false prophet's flag unfurled, 
 
 But love's celestial ozone was distilled 
 
 To save such souls as otherwise were killed. 
 
62 THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 
 
 What is descending from above ? 
 Ah, it is all radiant Love; 
 Floating down through the untold space 
 This side of heaven ; so full of grace 
 She seems to be of fairer mould 
 Than any nymph of whom we're told 
 By ancient bards. Fair, radiant Love, 
 All hail ! God 's angel from above 
 Descending to this passion scene, 
 Subduing by thy perfect mien. 
 
 But listen ! for all perfect, fair, 
 Her crystal tones break on the air. 
 
 Dark Hate comes forth, and craven Fear, 
 And listen with attentive ear; 
 Revenge, made mute by tones so sweet, 
 Humbly kneels at fair Love 's feet, 
 His courage gone, his bravo fled. 
 And all the vaunting words he said 
 Are changed ; his ways as mild, as meek, 
 As those of souls who mercy seek. 
 
 Conquered by Love 's subduing light, 
 Illuminating what is right, 
 
THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 63 
 
 Pale Fear came forth from out the gloom 
 To learn what now might be her doom : 
 If any hopes from love would grow 
 For her on earth. We can not know 
 What changes daily may take place, 
 What passions rule the human race : 
 For they are strange and changeful things, 
 Whose fancies fleet on restless wings, 
 Stay not their course for tide or sun, 
 Nor anchor where old time begun, 
 
 But fain would sail on cycled light 
 Far back through ages into night, 
 And rounding on the other side 
 Take, like the sun, a homeward ride; 
 So Fear, from out the gloom of night, 
 Was borne to Love 's resplendent light. 
 
 But listen now, raethinks I hear 
 Her very words as she draws near; 
 She says she came from God above, 
 The glorious source of truth and love : 
 
 I do not hither come to sound 
 My praises to the world around, 
 But that I may unto each heart 
 :Somewhat of heaven 's pure bliss impart; 
 
64 THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 
 
 I come as pilot of the soul, 
 Through life 's wild mazes, to the goal 
 Whose climes of light and seas of bliss 
 Succeed the voids and glooms of this. 
 
 Oh, did mankind but only know 
 What blessings from love's sources flow; 
 Oh, could they realize the joy 
 That those who see its light enjoy ; 
 The pure, unclouded state of rest 
 That reigns in each recipient breast; 
 They would not be serene, content. 
 
 With little joys self-love can give, 
 When bliss beyond compare is meant 
 
 As portion for such ones as live 
 In close communion with the One 
 Who styles Himself the loving One. 
 
 Ah, yes ! Love 's joys and bliss outshine 
 The purest gems from earthly mine ; 
 The glory of the sun at noon, 
 The twinkling stars, the shimmering moon. 
 
 And all that glorious whole of light 
 That sparkles on creation 's lines. 
 
 Are dull, beside the glories bright 
 And clear which light Love 's perfect shrine. 
 
THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 65 
 
 Love shall all stormy passions calm, 
 Yield to our hearts a healing balm 
 For all misfortunes that befall, 
 Life 's perfect lustre give us all. 
 
 No vile revenge shall ever go, 
 Or hate be, where love 's currents flow; 
 All fears, all wrongs are banished from 
 The hearts to which true love has come. 
 
 No dark despair or doubt can be 
 With her, nor any jealousy; 
 There all true graces shall abide, 
 Ture lustre for love true and tried. 
 
 Ah, who that ever felt the thrill 
 
 Of e'en this life 's ecstatic love, 
 But knows perfected love will thrill 
 
 All constant ones with joy above. 
 
 The glory tints of bliss supreme 
 That through love 's windows on us stream, 
 Are but faint glimmerings from love 's source 
 Reflected to us in their course. 
 
66 THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 
 
 If dim reflections of love 's light 
 
 From mirrored soul to mirrored soul, 
 Reveal to us such glories bright, 
 
 What shall we feel when pure love 's whole 
 Of light and glory breaks across 
 Our field of vision, and the loss 
 Of hopes and friends that we have had, 
 
 Like deepest darkness of the night. 
 Precedes the morn that makes us glad 
 
 With all its perfectness and light ; 
 Aye, more, the certainty that soon 
 Time 's flight shall bring eternal noon. 
 
 Then Faith, Love's sister, sweet and fair, 
 Came forth to meet and greet them there ; 
 To tell them of the wondrous things 
 
 Her glorious light reveals to view, 
 Of brilliant gems her tireless wings 
 
 Are wafting those to duty true. 
 
 She told them of the great white throne 
 Where God majestic sits alone ; 
 
THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 67 
 
 Jerusalem, a jasper, bright 
 
 With iridescent crystal light, 
 
 Whose gates of pearl and streets of gold, 
 
 Foundations precious to behold, 
 
 Whose chrysolites with emeralds green, 
 Chrysoprasus and topaz seen, 
 Amethyst, jacinth, jasper too, 
 Chalcedony, beryl, sapphires bright. 
 Sardonyx and sardius' pure light, 
 Are but shadows of gems within 
 
 Her walls, whose sun and temple are 
 Immanuel, who dwells therein. 
 
 No shadow of night can come there; 
 There kings shall bring their riches rare, 
 There their glory and honor bear; 
 
 And on her golden, glorious streets 
 No one with any evil meets ; 
 For God shall take away all tears. 
 All pains, all sorrows and all fears. 
 
 She spake of the river of life, 
 Whose crystal waters constant flow 
 
 From out beneath the throne of life ; 
 Arched over all God 's emerald bow. 
 
68 THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 
 
 And she told of the tree of life, 
 Whose verdant leaves shall monthly grow 
 
 As healing for the nations' strife : 
 God 's magic balm for every woe. 
 
 She said that on that blessed shore 
 
 Life 's blighted hopes may bloom once more; 
 
 That o'er that sea of lucid glass 
 
 Which lies before the throne of God, 
 Repentant souls may freely pass 
 
 To worship at the feet of God. 
 
 She told of the thousand years of bliss 
 Reserved for those who faithful prove 
 
 Through all the fleeting years of this 
 Life — their first fruits of bliss above. 
 
 She said that eye had never seen, 
 That listening ear had never heard. 
 
 The perfect glories that have been 
 Reserved for those who keep God 's word. 
 
 She said that fancy's wildest flight. 
 Imagination 's utmost stretch, 
 
 Have never seen the glorious light 
 That shines for those God 's statutes keep. 
 
THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 69 
 
 You know, of course, these brilliant gems, 
 The gold and precious diadems, 
 Are graces which adorn the soul 
 And pave the way unto that goal, 
 Whose cHmes of light and seas of bliss 
 Transmit some rays and drops to this; 
 And know that sea of lucid glass 
 
 Which lies before God 's holy throne 
 Is Faith, reflecting as they pass 
 
 To God, devotion souls have shown. 
 
 Go, search for -'oy through every clime, 
 In every land, at every time; 
 Scan all the joys this world affords, 
 Possessed by servants or by lords, 
 Exhausting every source of wealth, 
 The springs of fashion and of health ; 
 Then try and see what fame can do 
 To roll a tide of joy to you ; 
 Ride long and far on Science' car 
 To utmost verge of further star : 
 
70 THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 
 
 Explore the depths of every sea 
 Where any gems of beauty glow ; 
 
 Go anywhere where joy may be 
 Or any whiffs of pleasure blow'; 
 
 And when the whole extended field 
 
 Shall fail a perfect joy to yield, 
 
 Then roam no more on restless wing, 
 
 Nor listen where such sirens sing, 
 
 But seek through Faith and Hope the love 
 
 Our God drops down from heaven above. 
 
 But look ! The long-waged warfare done, 
 The gift descends, the crown is won : 
 
 No ivy wreath or myrtle green 
 
 To deck the brow where victory 's seen, 
 
 But joy, pure joy from God above 
 
 Comes down to Faith and Hope and Love, 
 
 Uniting thus these sisters three 
 
 With crowns of immortality. 
 
THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 71 
 
 Joy forever! Life 's task is done; 
 The secret 's out ! This is the stone 
 Philosophers so long have sought ; 
 So clear, so plain, weak ones the thought 
 Can comprehend and make it theirs. 
 Joy ! Joy ! Once more fair life appears. 
 
 The fruit of life, that Adam might 
 
 Have freely taken in Eden, 
 And thus regained the life and light 
 
 Lost through knowing good and evil. 
 Can now be had by any one 
 Who, with right thoughts and actions done. 
 Takes to his heart these sisters three : 
 They are the fruits of life's fair tree, 
 Whose possession our lives will leaven, 
 And crown with perfect joy in heaven. 
 
 Filled with this hope, through faith complete, 
 
 This love that blooms where'er they meet 
 
 To such a crown of perfect joy, 
 
 Let us courageously employ 
 
 Each Power, each Passion and each Grace, 
 
 In such a measure, such a place. 
 
 That they in unison may play, 
 
 Enabling us through life to say — 
 
72 THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 
 
 That though the cords are broken all 
 
 That bound our hearts of old ; 
 That though the hopes we cherished once 
 
 Have dust and ashes proved, 
 And all the future we discern 
 
 Is dark with clouds and gloom, 
 While not one ray of light shines out 
 
 From off their silver side : 
 
 That though far worse than this be true, 
 
 Nor thought nor tongue can tell. 
 And all the far horizon's verge 
 
 Where sight and faith should blend, 
 But rolls with darkness deeper far 
 
 Than we have known before — 
 Life 's long campaign is not yet closed 
 
 Nor all its battles fought. 
 
 Then why in bivouac longer lie? 
 
 The bugle call is, ''On!" 
 Like Arabs, let us fold our tents 
 
 And take the forward march : 
 Eesolving that, while General Time 
 
 Is marching us along, 
 Our march shall be an upward one, 
 
 Straight on through storm and shine, 
 
THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 73 
 
 Writing Excelsior so clear, 
 
 In characters of light, 
 Upon our flag, that daily floats 
 
 Higher on the mountain side, 
 Until, with standard planted firm 
 
 Far up above all clouds. 
 Its folds may float in sunlit airs. 
 
 Where breezes soft may fan 
 Our aching brow and soothe our soul, 
 
 As others have before — 
 So clear that all the world can read 
 
 Excelsior our aim. 
 
 And so, while there are wrongs to right 
 
 Or any crowns to win. 
 We will not lay our warfare by, 
 
 Or shrink because some thorns 
 Are hid beneath the roses' bloom — 
 
 It is their nature to — 
 But trust the upward path we tread 
 
 May yield rich blooms for us ; 
 That joys destroyed by desert heats, 
 
 And hopes by wild winds strewn. 
 May on life 's highlands fruit once more 
 
 And yield a harvest rare: 
 
74 THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 
 
 That though our ships, which long ago 
 
 Set sail across the seas, 
 Return no more — while wailing winds 
 
 And waves that moan and roar, 
 Oft speak in telephonic tones 
 
 From wrecks beneath the surge. 
 Of fortune, friends, fair fame and faith, 
 
 Wound in one common shroud — 
 Life 's final voyage is not yet sailed. 
 
 Nor all its seas explored. 
 
 Then why at anchor longer ride. 
 With sails and colors furled ? 
 
 The tide is setting out to sea, 
 
 The wind blows off the shore, 
 
 Eternity lies all beyond ; 
 
 Perchance the best of life. 
 
 Then hoist the anchor up again, 
 Let slip the lines from shore. 
 
 Spread all our canvas to the breeze. 
 Speed out upon the main ; 
 
 Search every sea, sound all their depths. 
 Gain knowledge where we may. 
 
THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 75 
 
 If dark revenge and venomed bate 
 
 Are armor for the right ; 
 If mirth can cheer or music soothe 
 
 The soul in trial 's hour; 
 If beauty, shining in the face 
 
 Or radiant in the form, 
 Can raise our souls to higher planes — 
 
 Make beautiful our lives ; 
 If pity leads to acts of love. 
 
 And scorn but scorch the wrong; 
 If envy only lead the soul 
 
 To seek such gems as glow 
 And sparkle with like lights of love 
 
 Which other souls have gained ; 
 If appetites are used alone 
 
 To purchase life and strength, 
 Or place aright the germ where God 
 
 Shall breathe the breath of life, 
 That will, as other ones have done, 
 
 Become a living soul ; 
 
 If powers that deal with weight and size, 
 
 With color or with sound, 
 With any force or property 
 
 With which we have to do. 
 
76 THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 
 
 But give us knowledge more complete 
 
 Of things we ought to know ; 
 If pride assist the soul to rise 
 
 To higher planes of thought, 
 And we are only proud because 
 
 The glorious God is ours ; 
 If malice aims alone at sin, 
 
 And not its source — some soul ; 
 If wild remorse but lead the way 
 
 Unto that crystal gate, 
 Where faith with diamond finger points 
 
 Up glory-tinted paths, 
 That brighten, broaden, as they rise 
 
 Unto Excelsior — 
 Into those harvest fields of bliss. 
 
 That yield eternal life ; 
 
 If doubt, dismay and fierce contempt. 
 
 Like snows where thawing suns may shine, 
 
 Shall perish with their vain attempt 
 To ruin that fair soul of thine ; 
 
 If fear shall never show its head, 
 
 Except to flee from sin ; 
 If jealousy but sting the soul 
 
 When evil thoughts assail ; 
 
THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 77 
 
 If curiosity but prompt 
 
 The searching sharp for truth ; 
 If labyrinths of dark despair, 
 
 Where we may sometime walk, 
 Shall prove but avenues that end 
 
 Where shines still clearer light; 
 If duty walks with willing feet 
 
 In paths of righteousness ; 
 If hopes we cherish are the bloom 
 
 From buds of duty-loving faith, 
 And love the power upon the throne, 
 
 Ordaining duty 's way: 
 
 Then, perfect day for us shall dawn 
 While voyaging on our way, 
 
 And the welcome sound of land ahoy 
 Shall break upon the ear; 
 
 And we may land where long-loved friends 
 
 Amid life 's harvest stand, 
 And find that hopes we long ago 
 
 Had buried with the past, 
 
78 THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 
 
 Like all good seeds have grown again, 
 
 And, in life 's harvest field, 
 Find fortune, friends and fruited faith, 
 
 With all perfected powers, 
 
 Passions refined, each grace complete. 
 
 All perfectly conjoined. 
 And crowned with all we dream of joy. 
 
 Increased ten thousand fold, 
 Extending on through cycled bliss 
 
 Till aeon ages end. 
 
 Written in twenty-seven States and Territories and on the Pacific ocean. 
 
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 TfiF 
 
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 uhlm of Bfc, 
 
 — BY 
 
 ^EXTUS ^. pODDAi\D. 
 
 Worcester, giTass. 
 Lucius P, Ggddard, 
 
 No. 425 Main Street. 
 
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