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Ten 
 Minutes 
 
 Fanny de Groot Hastings 
 
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 Copyright, 1917 
 
 BY 
 
 Fanny de Groot Hastings 
 
 APR 26 1917 
 ©CLA4()0481 
 
-^ Ten Minutes 
 
 I took ten minutes from the hand of time, 
 And wove them into printed leaves of rhyme. 
 
 You who can spare ten minutes for my book, 
 With kindly eyes I bid you come and look. 
 
 I speak for it no place in poets' art ; 
 If it but cause a shining in some heart, 
 
 Ten minutes' clearing of some window pane, 
 In happiness Fll reap ten minutes' gain. 
 
Contents 
 
 Ten Minutes — Foreword .... 3 
 
 Here and Now ..... 7 
 
 The Word ..... 8 
 
 Love is Awake . . . . -9 
 
 The Church Triumphant .... 10 
 
 The Wilderness . . . . .12 
 
 Color . . . . . . 13 
 
 To a Wonderful Etching . . . -14 
 
 Love is in the Prompter's Box . . . 15 
 
 Wrappings . . . . . . 16 
 
 Discarded Things . . . . .18 
 
 Quiet Rains . . *. . . • 19 
 
 For These We Fight . . . .20 
 
 Love's Point of View . . . . .21 
 
 The Awakening . . , . , . 22 
 
HERE AHD HOW. 
 4- 
 
 I always felt the blackest cloud would lift, 
 Break, reveal the blue and snow'white drift 
 Above, and all the glories of God's skies. 
 And gropingly I felt my sense would rise, 
 Sometime. 
 
 I hoped that good would grow from everything, 
 That every bud that blossomed in the spring 
 Was but a symbol of some larger, purer love 
 That lived and bloomed, eternal, far above, 
 Somewhere. 
 
 And dreaming of a distance dim and far. 
 At length I woke to find a present star 
 Had hovered o'er me all the while unknown ; 
 I woke to find my future, glorious grown, 
 Is here and now. 
 
THE WORD. 
 
 Open my ears that I may hear Thee speak 
 The tongue known only to the clean and meek, 
 Then, Love, make pure my lips, when I have heard, 
 To use more perfectly Thy living word. 
 
LOVE IS AWAKE. 
 
 Cover me, Love, with Thy feathers. 
 
 And under Thy wings make me rest 
 
 I can of myself do nothing, 
 
 For such is Thy wise behest. 
 
 When I lean on the Great Sustaining, 
 
 How can I fear or doubt ? 
 Love is awake and watching. 
 
 And His stars are out. 
 
THE CHURCH TRIUMPHANT. 
 
 Louvain lies dust to dust today ; 
 
 Its buildings kiss the smoldering ground ; 
 Here where the dawn of yesterday 
 
 Revealed a palace, a parched mound 
 Of burning wood and broken clay — 
 Louvain lies dust to dust today. 
 
 And Rheims Cathedral is no more ; 
 
 It stands a shelMike, hollow thing ; 
 Gone the charm of Gothic door — 
 
 The Eagle clipped the magic wing ; 
 Its pinnacles no longer soar. 
 For Rheims Cathedral is no more. 
 
 Gone, years of labor in a night ! 
 
 Things men thought must ever stand, 
 That none would harm and naught could blight. 
 
 Are swept by mighty strokes of the hand 
 That deems must is just, and might is right, 
 Gone, years of labor in a night ! 
 
I ask not these rebuilded be, 
 
 Oh God, Who knows they never were 
 Portals to set the real soul free. 
 
 These dreams of stone and marble were 
 But things that ne'er could live or see ; 
 I ask not these rebuilded be ! 
 
 I ask that scales fall from men's eyes, 
 That they be cleansed of lust and greed. 
 
 That they be strong and just and wise. 
 Without a nation, class or creed, 
 
 That they may help the weak to rise — 
 
 Stones in the temple that never dies. 
 
 Give hands the gift to build to Thee 
 
 Vast towers of thought, pure, fair and fine 
 
 Structures triumphant, whose living wine 
 Shall bind all men in unity ; 
 
 That from the altars of spirit may rise 
 
 Love's one and deathless sacrifice. 
 
 Courtesy of "The New York Sun.' 
 
THE WILDERHESS. 
 •#• 
 
 The wilderness where Jesus went to pray 
 
 Was not a barren place of doubt and fear, 
 He sought a space of stillness there to hear 
 
 The voice of God : " Prepare, make straight the way." 
 
 A sanctuary spot this wilderness, 
 
 A mount of vision 'neath a star'swept sky. 
 Where values met and touched the undimmed eye, 
 
 And dawn arose with healing in its wings. 
 
 The weary one athirst for rest and light 
 
 Shall find a consciousness of rich repose. 
 This wilderness where Jesus prayed and rose 
 
 With radiant face and robes of glistering white. 
 
COLOR. 
 
 When I work with warm'colored wools. 
 And weave of them manifold mantles 
 And bright'hued scarfs, 
 I understand what impelled Love's fingers 
 To wrap earth in robes of richness and light. 
 In green garments and autumn ambers and 
 
 white ermine. 
 And to fling rainbows 'round the throat 
 
 of the sky ; 
 For I touch the hem of a marvelous joy 
 When I work with warm^colored wools. 
 
TO A WONDERFUL ETCHING. 
 
 I cannot see you through the mist of Httle things, 
 
 Wedged in most hurried hours ; 
 We need uncrowded spaces e'er our vision wings 
 
 Soar to immortal towers. 
 
LOVE IS I?i THE PROMPTER'S BOX. 
 •*• 
 
 I walk the stage with firmer tread. 
 And bring to it a singing heart, 
 
 I know no anxious thought nor dread. 
 For Love will teach me all my art, 
 
 Now Love is in the prompter's box. 
 
 What matter if the scenery shifts, 
 
 Or what the hour I hear my cue ? 
 
 The hand of Love my curtain lifts. 
 
 And Love will surely see me through, 
 
 For Love is in the prompter's box. 
 
 Although strange faces greet my eyes, 
 
 I shall not hesitate nor fear, 
 I hold the thought that satisfies : 
 
 I know that Love is very near, 
 For Love is in the prompter's box. 
 
 I strive no more for empty praise, 
 
 I act with humbler, cleaner heart. 
 
 Not dreading unfamiliar plays. 
 
 Since Love will teach me all my art. 
 
 Now Love is in the prompter's box. 
 
WRAPPINGS. 
 •*• 
 
 On Christmas morn, in childhood days, 
 How eager were our hands to lift 
 The wrappings from each longed'for gift. 
 To break the seal, and cut the string 
 That hid and bound each treasured thing 
 That Love had given. 
 
 Another Christmas day is here, 
 
 Still children, with the old desire 
 Enriched and purified by fire. 
 
 There are new wrappings to unwind. 
 His gift to find. 
 
 Love, help us this Christmas dawn to break 
 The cords our foolish hands have tied, 
 The stubborn knots of hate and pride 
 
 And fear. 
 
 That dwarf our growth throughout the year, 
 And bid us wake ! 
 
Burn all these paper'wrapping clothes. 
 
 And set the real self free. 
 Life of the smallest living thing, 
 Help each the perfect gift to bring 
 
 To Truth's nativity. 
 
 We long to break each hardened seal 
 
 That binds our Christmas gift for thee 
 
 Life, Truth and Love, help us reveal 
 
 The Christ Idea, within, 
 
 The Perfect Man that Thou hast made, 
 
 The one Great Gift that cannot fade, 
 That stands through all Eternity. 
 
 Christmas, 191 5 
 
DISCARDED THIHGS. 
 
 The beauty of discarded things 
 
 Is free as air, 
 It brushes with impartial wings 
 
 Quick hearts that care. 
 
 Behind the wistful, half-closed door 
 
 It waits for you. 
 How fascinating to explore 
 
 The old for new ! 
 
^l/IET RAINS. 
 
 I revel in all quiet rains 
 
 That wash our dusty window panes. 
 
 Clean rains that give a shining face 
 To every human dwelling place ; 
 
 Wise rains from out the boundless dome 
 That bid us spend a day at home, 
 
 And find within each restful hour 
 A larger sense of strength and power. 
 
 Oh quiet rains that cleanse earth's floors. 
 And gently close its hurried doors. 
 
 Still messengers of higher laws, 
 Thank you for teaching me to pause. 
 
FOR THESE WE FIGHT. 
 
 And now, bring forth, oh thought, your great siege gun, 
 And kill the enemy of Truth and Light, 
 Keep thou our eyes upon the goal of right. 
 
 And give us courage to destroy the Hun 
 
 Of hate, within. Oh great siege gun 
 
 Of Life and Love, be with us in the fight. 
 Rend wide this false abysmal night. 
 
 And blazon forth the resurrection sun. 
 
 Be Thou our great, wide battlefield, oh Mind, 
 Be Thou our Captain, Love divine, and rise 
 To lead us forth in spiritual might. 
 For Christly sense and eyes to see behind 
 This matter dream a present Paradise, 
 
 Oh God of all, for these we strive and fight. 
 
LOVE'S POINT OF VIEW. 
 
 Love has such renewing eyes, 
 They see through earth to Paradise ; 
 
 Through fog and dream, a perfect plan, 
 Through fleshly veil, the Christly man. 
 
 Oh men, we need Love's point of view 
 To see ourselves and earth anew. 
 
THE AWAKENING. 
 
 There came no clarion call upon the air 
 
 To cast out fear, 
 I only know the still, small voice was there. 
 
 And I could hear. 
 
 I saw no flame nor burst of sudden light, 
 
 No dream'world close, 
 I only know wings brushed me in the night, 
 
 And dawn arose. 
 
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