PS 3543 
 |.E33 C6 
 
 Copy ^ 
 
 Clusiters; 
 
 BY 
 
 DANIEL VELDRING 
 
 I 
 
 
 ■^<=> <!t <=» g 
 
Clusters of Poetry 
 
 BY 
 DANIEL VELDRING 
 
 Contents: 
 
 Title P^S^ 
 
 Fantastic Dream No. 1 . . . • • 3 
 Fantastic Dream No. 2 ..... 7 
 Fantastic Dream No. 3 . . . . .10 
 Clusters of Thought 14 
 
 Data 
 
 Written 1915-16-17 
 
 and 
 
 Copyrighted 1918 by Henry A. Zeuch 
 
 Published under the name of Daniel Veldring 
 
 
^ 
 
 
 N9 
 
 FEB I3I9I8©CI.A481778 
 
 ''^ I 
 
FANTASTIC DREAM No. 1 
 
 One (lay a volume's bulky scope I probed 
 For tempting knowledge of those distant orbs 
 That roll secluded in the unknown heavens, 
 Yet gleaned but little, and on that night 
 I met in dream the things I had aspired. 
 Before me stretched a mystic field of sand. 
 O'er which a sun of soothing radiance shone. 
 'Twas not in any way a desert's bleak 
 And parched breast, but dotted here and there 
 By springs of water, clear as crystallite, 
 And 'round whose mossy banks and pebbled ways 
 Grew trees on which sweet fruits and berries hung. 
 And all at once there came a band of men. 
 Such men as I had never seen before. 
 Their size and strength was that of Hercules, 
 With limb and body of a perfect cast. 
 Their hair was of a flaxen blondish hue. 
 Their eyes were cast in pure cerulean. 
 And like a ripening peach their bodies' tint, 
 Velvet-smoothe, and showing health's perfection. 
 They wore no clothes at all, but, purely nude. 
 Ambled along with art majestical. 
 Some carried plows, and others shouldered hoes, 
 And coming near, within a few short steps 
 Of where I stood, they stopped and laid their tools 
 With care upon the sand, and then communed 
 In clearest tones, anent the wisest course. 
 In manner brief and sure they laid their plans. 
 And those wdio carried plows arranged their blades. 
 And pushed them thru the sand, and with such ease, 
 That I could scarce believe my eyes, and stared 
 As one who's told he'll live on earth forever. 
 • x\nd those who wielded hoes filed after them. 
 And straightway closed the furrows that were made. 
 This seemed to me so foolish that I laughed, 
 But moved them not a bit therewith, and soon 
 
They passed adown that sandy field and worked 
 
 In large and wimpling circles, and ere long 
 
 I lost all hope to understand their work, 
 
 And with a mild disgust prepared to go; 
 
 When all at once I heard a rustling sound, 
 
 A gentle swish, like zephyr's murmuring. 
 
 And lo! before me stood a splendid throng 
 
 Of women, who beyond a doubt were maids* 
 
 Of that same race that plowed the sandy field, 
 
 But so much sweeter, that comparison. 
 
 That is, to liken e'en the best of them — 
 
 The men — unto the least (if such) of these — 
 
 The maids — would be like striking surphured match 
 
 Across the blazing mien of mighty Sol ! 
 
 They sported in a nudity so pure. 
 
 That I not even blushed or bashful was ; 
 
 But, with my face aglow with noble thoughts. 
 
 Drank in the beauty of their angel forms. 
 
 To pen that beauty is a weighty task. 
 
 Each little item so astounded me. 
 
 And each beholding, each so acmeous, 
 
 That to decide a starting point seemed futile. 
 
 So let me pen their beauty in that method 
 
 Whereby the eagle scans the earth below, 
 
 Sees all, and each in its allotted place ; 
 
 Yet swoops to earth and grasps his object 
 
 In way that comes the best, and carries it 
 
 Along the smoothest course, and having gained 
 
 His final goal, and there enjoyed his feast, 
 
 Takes retrospective flight, and is so vexed 
 
 By what he missed in striving for his object. 
 
 That his expressions, lacking medium. 
 
 He lets behind, and leaves the wealth reflected 
 
 By only heaven. And such my course will be. 
 
 Let me begin with that that's nearest heaven, 
 
 In merits first, and then but in position. 
 
 * Meaning females, not servants, of that race. 
 
Their forms and features were of angel cast. 
 
 Their wings of mighty span and strong as steel, 
 
 Yet downy soft and white as snowy dove. 
 
 Like snowy cloud with rosy color tinged, 
 
 So was their skin, and fanned to velvetness 
 
 By their majestic wings, no perspiration 
 
 Marred its beauty, and to me it seemed. 
 
 By some Lorelian secret they conjured 
 
 A zephyr, to fan themselves and keep them cool, 
 
 And hold them up so they were free from effort. 
 
 Like lilies perched on stems invisible. 
 
 Their hair was blonde, and waved in lengthy curves, 
 
 As tho by zephyrs supernatural. 
 
 Their eyes were blue, reflecting each a heaven. 
 
 And when they smiled I saw their pearly teeth, 
 
 Ultra pure, o'er which their lips were curved 
 
 Red and sweet as ripened raspberry, 
 
 And of that odor w^as their soothing breath; 
 
 For, in its art, that zephyr wafted it, 
 
 In faintest wisp, to my enraptured sense. 
 
 Their voices toned with harmony sublime. 
 
 And when they laughed, it peeled so heavenly. 
 
 That every paradisial thing its echo rang, 
 
 Invisibly tuning to its vibrant sway. 
 
 And here my painting flounders, for I can no more. 
 
 For all in all, they were beyond my pen. 
 
 So take to heart this praise that I have sung, 
 
 And let it be as but a grain of sand ; 
 
 And this sweet praise that I of them have sung. 
 
 Compare unto their beauty as it is. 
 
 As would this grain of sand to all the earth, 
 
 Which, truly speaking, is unfathomal. 
 
 And now one skimmed toward me and alit 
 
 So close before me I inhaled her breath. 
 
 Whose sweetness made me swoon into her arms. 
 
 Then naught I knew but that she soared with me, 
 
 Until we reached a mountain's lofty crest. 
 
 And here she laid me down beside a spring. 
 
Whose bubbling music, wafted to my ears 
 
 By circling zephyr's gentle harmony, 
 
 Adorned with sparkling spray and song-bird's note, 
 
 Whisperings of flowers in their bloom 
 
 Of mating, thru the bees, with their sweet loves, 
 
 So did this soothing zephyr ope' my eyes. 
 
 And leave me nude as Undine in her bath, 
 
 While by my side reclined that angel maid. 
 
 And when she saw that I was well awake, 
 
 She lifted me, and took me to her breast, 
 
 There held me close, and kissed my trembling lips, 
 
 And pressed me to her breasts so rapturely, 
 
 That my young heart seemed bursting with the bliss ' 
 
 Of those sweet thrills that echoed in my soul. 
 
 And then she fanned me, gently, w^ith her wings. 
 
 Whose cooling breeze and touches angelic 
 
 Wafted me to calmness sweet and pure. 
 
 And when she raised me from her roseate breasts, 
 
 There surged thru me a strength most wonderful. 
 
 Lions I could have torn like feeble lambs ! 
 
 And standing thus, I scanned the sandy field, 
 
 Which spread like golden laces far below. 
 
 There worked the men as they had worked before, 
 
 And sight of them returned my puzzled thought, 
 
 \Vhose groping trend my consort angelic 
 
 At once beheld, and with a smile, she said : 
 
 "So you would know the secrets of their work? 
 
 'Tis well, you soon shall know, if you will pluck. 
 
 With care, that purple bud beside the spring, 
 
 And press it 'twixt your lips until it bleeds. 
 
 I'll hold you, then, against my breast, and kiss 
 
 Your lips, until the flower's blood shall change 
 
 Your mortal form to such a form as mine. 
 
 Then you'll know the secrets of their work. 
 
 And all within the scope of this our land." 
 
 I straightway did as she had ordered me, 
 
 But when she held me in her sweet embrace. 
 
 And pressed my lips to hers, I straight' awoke. 
 
FANTASTIC DREAM No. 2 
 
 One day I worried o'er the scorge of war, 
 
 Of greed, and mockeries of fake religions, 
 
 And on that night in awesome dream beheld 
 
 A motely horde, in one ungodly mass. 
 
 Swarming up a heaven-piercing hill; 
 
 In hope of self befoul the air with curses. 
 
 And sneeringly deride the good below, 
 
 Who, knowing heaven's not merely upward. 
 
 Remain content to do their noble best, 
 
 And leave reward 'till heaven sends for them. 
 
 But the climbing horde is devil-goaded, 
 
 And, as wave rolls down, continue upward, 
 
 Until the barren summit is attained. 
 
 ''What! no heaven here, no paradise? 
 
 Look there !" The cry like roll of thunder echoes, 
 
 Until the very earth is made to shudder. 
 
 A planet grand seems floating just beyond, 
 
 The paradise that motely horde desires. 
 
 But not deserves, nor long could keep in state. 
 
 For one and all would labor to construct 
 
 Finite and infinite to suit himself. 
 
 Then leaps a flame from hell to every eye. 
 
 And by each orb is nourished and sustained, 
 
 'Till fierce and high it burns, in one great tongue. 
 
 Split as the snake's, a black and aweful lightning 
 
 'Tis but the thought that dwells in every brain, 
 
 A devil-lit ambition to construct. 
 
 Swift as scope admits, a mighty tower. 
 
 Whose vaulted height that paradise shall span. 
 
 The thought conceived, the snarling horde revolves, 
 
 A seething mass of venomed, foaming lust, 
 
 Down from that hill in dizzy plunging rushes. 
 
 Each to his own material and tools. 
 
 Then to and fro a linking line is formed. 
 
 And work begins. The tower soon looms up, 
 
 Built of massive stones and iron mortar. 
 
Reinforced by mighty beams of steel. 
 
 And rooted firm within the earth's stone heart. 
 
 Up, up, it looms, like hand of fate stupendous, 
 
 And now is seen the planet looming near. 
 
 " 'Twill swing in perfect circle, that is sure. 
 
 We'll calculate the normal path it rolls. 
 
 And build thereto a span that cannot fail !" 
 
 So speaks the horde, and smacks its greedy lips, 
 
 So on it toils, while Virtue, awed to silence. 
 
 Stands with drooping head, and Wisdom smiles. 
 
 Now every stone and pillar has been placed. 
 
 Which done, the horde reclines to rest and wait. 
 
 The time grows wings, and nearer looms the planet, > 
 
 Sure to its course, it rolls to meet the tower. 
 
 Then thru that space that grimly intervenes, 
 
 An awful sight is mirrored on each gaze. 
 
 Loud in each heart a wail appalling sounds. 
 
 While millions shriek, or curse or kneel to pray. 
 
 O'er and o'er each eye its power strains, 
 
 Each eye, each heart, the living sight beholds : 
 
 Far from out that planet's bosom hangs. 
 
 Like the scepter of collossal Death, 
 
 Another tower ! Panic reigns supreme ; 
 
 Two human seas of bleeding heart and soul ; 
 
 Two ebbing wails of curse and prayer blent; 
 
 All looking up, yet, in that selfsame act. 
 
 Gazing down, as in the pits of hell. 
 
 Then comes hush, and moments seem as ages. 
 
 Ah, that a miracle could but exist ! 
 
 Oh, one exception to the laws divine ! 
 
 But such are not, and justice must be done. 
 
 Then, like two scythes, of two stone-real specters. 
 
 The towers clash, with roar that shakes the World. 
 
 Each tears the other from its planet heart. 
 
 Each gashes wide a pit, from out whose depth 
 
 An overwhelming sea of lava pours. 
 
 While whirling stones the ocean's shoreline claw 
 
 In great ravines, thru which the waters rush, 
 
And meet in hissing conflict molten rock. 
 
 Monster clouds of changing form leap upward, 
 
 And screen that horror from the fearful gaze 
 
 Of those good folk who, at a distance 'waited 
 
 The grand event. But such it is no more. 
 
 The towers with their squirming sinners sink 
 
 To their respective planetary bosoms, 
 
 Deep cased in molten lava, and the seas 
 
 With dreadful moans the scenes attempt to fold 
 
 In their great bosoms, and with mighty waves 
 
 O'erflood their shores, and rush a stream which quells 
 
 The lava by the towers' clash forced up. 
 
 While half submerged, around each world impaled, 
 
 The towers loom like two oppressive claws, 
 
 Embittering each world's divinest hopes. 
 
 Two monuments of grim catastrophe. 
 
 That only Virtue's power can remove. 
 
 Yet, spiting all, against the gates of heaven. 
 
 The souls of those corruptive builders squirm, 
 
 Loud threaten vengeance, for the devil's with them. 
 
 And his alliance serves to goad them on. 
 
 But angels soon corral them into hell. 
 
 Where grow they glum, and suffer torture 
 
 Only by dragons of their own vile thoughts. 
 
 So passed that ultra-modern Babylon. 
 
 And Virtue soon creates another tower, 
 
 Founded on good will, and formed in blissful steps 
 
 Of noble thoughts and deeds within man's plane. 
 
 And tho its real glory is unseen 
 
 By sinning hordes, the godly do behold 
 
 The realms of heaven re-enforce its crown. 
 
FANTASTIC DREAM No. 3. 
 
 The Titan Struggle now had reached its height. 
 
 Each side midst accusations dire proclaimed 
 
 Its cause the noblest and refused to yield. 
 
 And so one night it came. I dreamed I stood 
 
 High and safe upon a neutral cloud. 
 
 Which floated not, but seemed as if it hung 
 
 By two opposing cords. The upper one 
 
 Appeared as tho of gold, and seemed enmeshed 
 
 With myriad patterns of the heaven's blue. 
 
 The one beneath I could not clearly see, 
 
 But seemed as anchored in the heart of hell. 
 
 And kept me from attaining greater heights. 
 
 A voice of evil omen echoed soon, 
 
 Foretelling of such horror, that my soul 
 
 Pounded 'gainst the barriers of flesh, 
 
 And wildly helpless, shriveled, cold and torn 
 
 My heart became, irrupting pain so keen, 
 
 That every nerve its feeling power lost, 
 
 And left me like a stone, by instinct moved 
 
 To learn whence came that doom-presaging voice, 
 
 And watch the progress of its astral fangs. 
 
 Ere long I saw the peaceful world below. 
 
 Its mortal fates and destinies transpired 
 
 In an uplifting course, with here and there 
 
 Discordant tones, too weak for audience, 
 
 But swelling more and more the pangs of hate, 
 
 Until they severed two great elements, 
 
 Whose outward guild and professed nobleness 
 
 Widely differed in the eyes of each. 
 
 And branded each the other damnably. 
 
 The problems were evolved by two great seas. 
 
 Upon one side, the challenging Atlantic 
 
 Swelled its deep and ever restless bosom, 
 
 Breathed of peace, but grumbled 'neath its beard 
 
 A hinting trend of province unredeemed. 
 
 And new-born fighting valor. Far beyond, 
 
 10 
 
The great Pacific loomed with gleaming eye, 
 
 Telling all the world 'twould not move far, 
 
 From out its normal place, to lose a fight. 
 
 Ere long the fangs of hate struck to the quick 
 
 Each mighty sea, and peace was crucified 
 
 Among the cobwebs where the Bible lay, 
 
 And war's accursed momentum ruled supreme. 
 
 Swiftly roused the great Atlantic's waves, 
 
 Moimtain high they rolled, and brandished crests 
 
 Whose foam-wreathed frenzy dared the very heavens. 
 
 Then the calm Pacific stirred itself, 
 
 In tiny ripples first, but soon uprose 
 
 With an despotic frenzy as no pen 
 
 Of heaven tutored guidance could approve. 
 
 And so one cause was painted in two hues. 
 
 Each ocean pledged for battle unto death; 
 
 Each flashed a million foaming fangs and roared 
 
 A challenge mutual, afar proclaiming 
 
 Its cause the noblest, and rewards most high; 
 
 Each formed a monstrous water sphere and leaped 
 
 Thundrously from out its place, and swung 
 
 Far to the azure space and settled there ; 
 
 Inciting every other stream and sea 
 
 Within the solar system to disrupt 
 
 The bonds of peace, and battle on its side. 
 
 The rivers of each planet coil and leap 
 
 Like liquid serpents, headlong to that sea 
 
 That most adaptly sates a private aim. 
 
 Nor singing streams nor crystal springlets pause 
 
 To ask which course the laws of wisdom bless, 
 
 But swarm like myriad hissing monsters forth. 
 
 And join that side which circumstance decrees. 
 
 Thus swelled, each lake and ocean of each planet 
 
 Hurtles forth to meet the warring seas, 
 
 And joins that side whose guilding most allures. 
 
 The populace of each belligerent 
 
 Cheers lustily its cause, and foolish pride, 
 
 And lust to kill and glorify in war, 
 
 11 
 
O'erwhelms with damning slur the nobler instincts, 
 
 And binds them 'neath convention's iron hand. 
 
 Resoundingly thruout the Universe 
 
 The raging seas proclaim their purposes : 
 
 Each seeks to prove which serves the world the best; 
 
 Each claims the right to dominate the other; 
 
 Resolving in the sun to represent 
 
 The goal and glory of humanity, 
 
 And rush for its possession headlong forth. 
 
 Swiftly thru the trackless space they fly, 
 
 In mutual loss and gain, until at last 
 
 They crash against the sun, and merge its light 
 
 In gruesome shades that torture every soul. 
 
 Their boiling spheres of water, hissing, leap 
 
 In frenzied masses, mingling in the air, 
 
 And with redoubled bulk crash down again. 
 
 Tearing loose the sun's converging mass. 
 
 And hurl it thru the slow-resolving gloom 
 
 In myriad showers, as if titan devils 
 
 Portioned each grim claw in countless parts, 
 
 And scratched the heavens bloody. But each spark 
 
 Blazed its own Urphasin and expired; 
 
 Presaging so, the doom of every soul 
 
 Upon the planets of the once great sun. 
 
 All cheering now is silenced, all boasting hushed, 
 
 And real, breathing, grand humanity 
 
 Bemoans the sorrow and the thirst that come 
 
 To worlds bereft of water, warmth and light. 
 
 The great sun fades, as would a bleeding heart 
 
 In dying throbs of an unconquered grief. 
 
 Parched tongues, in pitiful remorse, 
 
 Implore the battling oceans to return; 
 
 But the mighty gravitation of the sun 
 
 Doth hold each precious drop of water fast. 
 
 And volumed mists in vi-cious plunging rise. 
 
 But falter when on high, and sink again, 
 
 Nestling gently o'er the quenching tumult. 
 
 The distant suns usurp the ebbing heat. 
 
 12 
 
And cold eternal gloom enfolds the worlds. 
 Dimly in the unstained heavens glow 
 The distant stars, atune with that same song, 
 That has for ages sought a listening heart; 
 And, as it echoed, unrequitely, then, 
 So echo now the prayers of the worlds, 
 'Till coldness in its icy-taloned extreme 
 O'erwhelms in lethal numbness every life. 
 But distant stars shine brightly as before. 
 And tune more sweet their godly harmonies : 
 The worlds in this projecting deeds in blood, 
 Will crucify all victory, and lo ! — 
 Its resurrection will be lasting peace. 
 
 13 
 
CLUSTERS OF THOUGHT 
 We are not striving for a haphazard physical perfection; 
 we are striving for a mental supremacy, the directive link be- 
 tween mind and flesh, that we may evolve and keep our bodies 
 as we desire them. 
 
 The warmth of ambition makes the heart grow cold, 
 And gaining what to us seems all, we lose 
 The glory of a true entirety. 
 
 There are some men, who, like a blinded hound, 
 Snap at the hand that makes to do them good; 
 They do but smell the age-old scent of blood, 
 Judge by the flesh, and in the flesh are judged. 
 
 The truly great 
 Are thankful for a place upon the earth ; 
 But pseudo genius and fiends in greed 
 Would wear it on their horns. 
 
 To drink of liquor is liking kissing hell. 
 
 To drink pure water is like kissing an angel. 
 
 To win success and happiness in life, 
 Speak and act while hearts are warm. 
 
 Sunset is that time when each live thing 
 A prophet seems, each cherishing a secret 
 That nothing else can know. 
 
 An educated man is one so trained. 
 Self-taught, or otherwise, to do his best. 
 
 U 
 
O foolish man, to think that this great world 
 
 Was molded for your special benefit ! 
 
 You seek to know the start and end of things; 
 
 Have planets roll to meet and kiss each other ; 
 
 Have children born and reared from hardy flowers, 
 
 With woman molded only for your lust. 
 
 Ha! ha! my friend, wouldst know to what such come?- 
 
 Mere jumping- jacks for all they hoped to yolk. 
 
 You well-dressed pigs have always golden troughs 
 Wherein you hide your heads and sip your fill 
 Of just such slop the poor girl must expose 
 To all the world, and, often innocent, 
 Is turned away a bawed and cruelly stoned 
 By such as you, although you caused her fall. 
 
 To drive a nail 
 With both ends of the hammer at one blow, 
 The hammer must be broken and new-formed; 
 So often must be broken noble hearts, 
 To drive the nail of destiny whereon 
 The world's existence hangs. 
 
 And when at last our goals we shall accomplish, 
 
 Or chance to find ourselves in failure steeped, 
 
 We need but turn, with happy hearts, our glances ; 
 
 And though in failure humbled, glorify. 
 
 Or, mighty deeds achieved, be hallowed, 
 
 In the good success of those whose hearts we nourished, 
 
 With our simple kindness, to attain their goals. 
 
 Upon this earth were molded 
 Five different races in experiment. 
 And that one race which proves the godliest 
 Must dwell uncoped, and so must rise above, 
 And in a time eliminate the rest. 
 For the lesser do but imitate the great. 
 
 15 
 
Love is a power to soothe ambition, 
 It paints the grim futihty and forms 
 The best excuse for Hving on the earth. 
 
 There is a world of power in those words 
 "My husband;" and "My wife." 
 
 'Tis the best place to preach — 
 Before the mirror. 
 
 Don't walk around as though with monstrous stork 
 Perched on either shoulder! 
 
 The lily, though in seeming pale and calm, 
 Harbors yet a blush within its heart; 
 So let us face the monuments of life. 
 
 There are some men who have no will to do, 
 But must be taken from maternal nest 
 And placed upon the titty of the world. 
 
 God and man seem to estranged 
 Since the last apostle. 
 
 Suspect a woman, and you lose her love. 
 
 Don't prick the walls of heaven with your pen. 
 Nor stir the pits of hell to fantasies. 
 
 The lion of corruption and despair 
 
 Is held beneath the cords of industry, 
 
 But the little mouse of error gnaws him loose. 
 
 16 
 
Beware of men and women who converse 
 With a subtle "if." 
 
 Allow your wife 
 To note your faults, and tender sweet advice, 
 Which take to heart and test with reverence. 
 Reward success, but censure no mistakes. 
 Then mutual love will bloom for you. 
 
 'Tis not their nature ; sparrows will not sing, 
 Nor learn a new behavior, though all heaven 
 Shall lend its art to paint and guild 'em so. 
 
 Be not so much afraid of work, my friend; 
 The gleam in its eyes has a silver lining. 
 
 All geniuses? All boredom and starvation, 
 
 Each seeking to mold the world in his own hands. 
 
 All commoners? It would not long be so, 
 
 For nature seeks to bless her every form, 
 
 And so with life or death the evolving gift, 
 
 From humbleness to noble paragon 
 
 She weaves her sweet equations and their crowns : 
 
 Rare in blooms for each set group of leaves, 
 
 But dewy-hallows all. 
 
 Let us prime our faith and power for transition 
 wherever truth and glory are new-born. 
 
 Many of our modern gentlemen 
 
 Need but a girdle and a club of stone 
 
 To make 'em prehistoric. 
 
 17 
 
The fool's a most peculiar animal — 
 All wishbone. 
 
 A man may glory in willful continence, 
 
 It crowns his soul an abacot sublime ; 
 
 Thrice makes him king, thrice heightens love's sweet joys, 
 
 And finds in her spontaneous desire 
 
 The pure indulgence, blest in nature's laws. 
 
 What have you done, impressed us with your speed. 
 Or spun the wheel of fortune "La Reverse"? 
 
 In seeking experience we find despair, 
 
 And only in evolving those affairs 
 
 Which form our destined lot, do we grow noble. 
 
 Sing your song of love until you hear 
 A perfect resolution in the key of hearts. 
 
 The first shall be indebted to the last, 
 Even as the last unto the first. 
 
 O wild peregrination, how I hate ye ! 
 
 To ever seek, to ever yearn a home. 
 
 Is hell permutable for only hell. 
 
 Ah! must I ever roam, thus, in a circle. 
 
 One hand on heaven's perrons, but sweet love. 
 
 With golden glory, blooming out of reach? 
 
 Dress and act correctly, 
 That social fools may keep their quips. 
 
 And while in war's grim chariot we ride, 
 Let God be with us, though the devil steers. 
 
 18 
 
Rhymes are the shears that chp the wings of thought. 
 
 No man should feel too proud in fatherhood, 
 
 But humbled in the glory of that power, 
 
 Which, thru the woman, gave this privilege. 
 
 And if his child's a duplicate of him, 
 
 Still leave the wife her share of good endowments; 
 
 For semblance is as valued to the child. 
 
 As the pictures of the parents to themselves. 
 
 Just tinkle gold in Cupid's ears, 
 
 And he'll be deaf to every other thing. 
 
 Woe to him who wnll not learn ! 
 He cheats himself of all life's higher joys; 
 He has no soul for woman or for art, — 
 A self-professed barbarian. 
 
 He, in health, who sleeps beyond his hours. 
 Must toil when ill, and slumber oft' forego. 
 
 Man has no right to say his own creations 
 Are sanctioned by God, nor has he right 
 To say that God is speaking in his words. 
 
 Paradise is resolved in practically meeting every natural 
 necessity as inspired by the progress of the best people. 
 
 "But" and "if are the talons of speech, 
 That torture with an indiscriminate zeal 
 Eeach living heart. 
 
 19 
 
The gambler 
 Is ever the wish that wants the golden egg, 
 Risk is the ax, and time soon grows a block. 
 
 To those poor youths who sing this sad excuse: 
 
 "Why should I strive and save and noble be? 
 
 For I have neither home, nor wife, nor children." 
 
 Let this equation be a guiding star: 
 
 It so resolves, that, if a man exists. 
 
 Though he have neither home, nor wife, nor children, 
 
 These do exist, a promised entity. 
 
 As long as he shall live. 
 
 Ambition's living deeds define it true, 
 
 Not vague aspirings to a future greatness 
 
 In words alone, or idle dreaminess ; 
 
 'Tis quite an easy matter to pretend 
 
 A great ambition, and. this mere longing. 
 
 Though be intents the noblest in the world, 
 
 But molds a kind of ghost whose crumbling bones 
 
 Are poor foundations for the living form. 
 
 The ruby, in its mother-breast enthroned. 
 Grows brighter when by Plubius' showers stoned. 
 So noble arts to highest plane will rise. 
 Leaving the hordes, agrope in mortal dust. 
 To perish by their vulgar critic-thrust. 
 
 Here on earth the worm his earthly hole 
 
 Is seeking, while on high the soaring eagle 
 
 Seeks a hole in the heavens. Both are striving 
 
 For the eternal outlet from this life. 
 
 And the great beyond. Each thinks his aim is upward. 
 
 But neither lives to fathom his desires. 
 
 A blessing is denied when we implore. 
 Not, blessing or reward, but only help. 
 
 20 
 
We all should strive t'ward noble parenthood, 
 If not in flesh, then more so, in the spirit. 
 This is art sublime, in reach of all, 
 Not perched upon a lunar-sculping hill, 
 In way of inborn genius and talent. 
 
 The gems of poetry 
 Are not mere brilliants of the earthly type ; 
 But tears of joy and grief the soul has shed, 
 And crystallized in self-upholding powers. 
 Which guide the way to real paradise, 
 And form foundations for new worlds. 
 
 Why, the dear man, he'll soon be angel. 
 
 For he has wings upon his thoughts and wealth ; 
 
 And the other wings will come, or, failing this. 
 
 The women so will see him, in his glory 
 
 Of winged thoughts and money, perfect angel! 
 
 When men have been deceived, they come to think 
 That Adam had not half enough of ribs 
 To keep experiment 'till God should mold 
 The perfect woman. But when she's deceived 
 She's told to blame her luck or circumstance, 
 And think of man as fairly as before. 
 
 Wedded life's the paradise of man 
 
 That has no fall to those who keep their love 
 
 In just accordance with nature's laws. 
 
 And heaven's inspiration. There exists 
 
 A star for each of us, and earnest seeking. 
 
 With a pure view, and kind considerance 
 
 For ones approached, and found not meant for us. 
 
 Will always leave a memory that's dear, 
 
 And help us more to find our destined one. 
 
 21 
 
Let us rise to such height that we can glory in the salva- 
 tion that comes to others thru our own realization and avowal 
 of our errors, if such we have harbored, and sought to further, 
 and each tear of truthful confession shall be an unfading jewel 
 in the memory of those who love us. 
 
 All beings seek the things that fit them best, 
 And thru those things behold and judge the world. 
 So, while the weeds in supermass abound, 
 And while most men prefer to pluck the weed, 
 The few who climb to reach the Edelweiss, 
 In looking down, will see the ones below. 
 And from their height adjudge them lowly toads; 
 While they below, in blinking at those heights. 
 Adjudge the climbing man a humble flea. 
 
 Man! don't crucify your wife 
 
 With thorny looks and words upon that cross 
 
 That she has borne for you. 
 
 Those times exist. 
 When roses cast their thorns and cleanse their hearts, 
 But we are blind the while. 
 
 Each thing its aptitude 
 Will follow, though the path to heaven or hell 
 Be strewn with winged conveyances. 
 
 I fear the fates have destined me to be 
 A grand compromise 'twixt heaven and hell, 
 A blending of honey and iron 
 In sublime proportions. 
 
 22 
 
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