LOVE-TRIUMEHI liMm \U: V mLAwwmtE ■ KNOWLE Class 3Ssis:„^,_ CcpightN"_42_04i COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. Hotje EviuMV^unt 3lo\)e Criumpljant A Book of Poems By Frederic Lawrence Knowles Author of **On Life's Stairway," etc. Boston Dana Estes & Company Publishers OCT 6 1904 'iopyrffht Entry OLASS «^ XXo. Na COPY B Copyright, ig04 By Frederic Lawrence Knowles All rights reserved LOVE TRIUMPHANT (UToIontal i^rtss Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Slmonds & Co. Boston, Mass.. U. S. A. V TO Lotttfie Cl^anUIcr iHouIton BY HER AFFECTIONATE FRIEND THE AUTHOR Note Acknowledgments are hereby made to the Century, Atlantic Monthly, Harper's Mag- azine, Poet-Lore, National Magazine, Brown Book, Christian Endeavor World, and other periodicals, for their courteous permission to reprint copyright poems. zratile of ©ontentfii I. PAGB Love Triumphant . . . . . . . 1 Love and History 3 Love's World . . . . . . . . 5 A Woman's Heart 7 To An Old Playmate 8 If Love Were Jester at the Court of Death . 9 The Singer 10 The Celestial Moment 12 A Memory 14 The Hour of Fire 16 At Dawn 19 Her Lips . .20 Creation 21 A Song of Content 22 The Ballad of Eden 23 To A Discoverer 26 Love's Awakening . . . . . . .27 Love's Fulfilment 29 The Last Word 30 ix ©aiilt of eontentf^ PAGE Love's Price 32 Joy and Sacrifice 34 The Survivor 36 n. The Larger View 39 Veritas ... 41 Directions to a Traveller 42 The Twofold Prayer 43 Golgotha . . 45 The Nurse 46 Laus Mortis 48 A Prayer 50 Birth 51 The Golden Door 52 Credo 63 Love Immortal .64 Bethlehem Morn 66 The Widow's Son 67 Shekinah 58 The Sea of Faith 59 The Answer 61 A Simple Story 63 Her Transplanted Rose 64 The Steps 66 On the Path 67 To AN Oak 68 A Challenge 69 What Is Heaven ? 71 X ffiaftlr of Contents PAGE Oct of the Depths 74 O Troubled over Many Things .... 76 III. The Glass 79 Sin's Foliage 80 One Woman 81 Betrayed 82 To the Moon 84 Lost 86 The Three 88 Discord 90 The Discipline of Failure 92 In a Far Country 94 L'Envoi 97 IV. Hail, America ! 101 The Coming Singer 102 The New Patriot 104 The Masters 106 A Modern Poet 107 The New Age Ill Son op the Puritans 112 Dives and Lazarus, 1904 113 The Christmas for America ..... 116 The World's New Waterway . . . .118 To A Modern Office Building .... 120 The Poet for To-day 122 New England 124 xi SCafile of Contents PAGE V. A Song of Desire 133 A Song of Memory 134 The Glimpse 136 To Mother Nature 137 The Sea 139 The Waverley Oaks 140 The April Boy 142 A Song of Sailing 144 To A Broken Sea -Shell 146 The Thief . 148 The Kingdom of the Sunrise .... 160 The Man -Child 162 To A Locomotive at Night 166 The Child Who Went Away .... 157 Our Friend 100 The Closed Gentian 162 To Poetry 163 Desire 164 The Call of the Country 166 xii I. *'The truth of truths is love." — Bailey's '■'■Festus. ilo\je Crtumpf)ant LOVE TRIUMPHANT HELEN'S lips are drifting dust; Ilion is consumed with rust; All the galleons of Greece Drink the ocean's dreamless peace; Lost was Solomon's purple show Restless centuries ago; Stately empires wax and wane — Babylon, Barbary, and Spain; — Only one thing, undefaced. Lasts, though all the worlds lie waste And the heavens are overturned. — Dear, how long ago we learned ! There's a sight that blinds the sun, Sound that lives when sounds are done, Music that rebukes the birds, Language lovelier than words, 1 aotoe Zxiumptimit Hue and scent that shame the rose, Wine no earthly vineyard knows, Silence stiller than the shore Swept by Charon's stealthy oar, Ocean more divinely free Than Pacific's boundless sea, — Ye who love have learn'd it true. — Dear, how long ago we knew ! ^ aoUt Zvinmpftiint LOVE AND HISTORY ROSES shed their petals Countless Junes ago, And those dead Decembers Brought their snow. Weary eyes were covered With their patient lids, By the yet unbuilded Pyramids. Life and Death, like sweethearts. Wandering hand in hand, Then, as now, stole over Sea and land. Lovers kissed and parted. Eyes were moist and blue, In the Midian meadows Moses knew. Cheeks were wet with weeping. Brows were hot with fire. Ere the hand of Homer Swept the lyre. S aobe Jitvinmpftant And this masque of midnight, And the moon's white face, Looked on Nile and Jordan, Thebes and Thrace. Must the mint be new, dear, If the coin is gold? Though youth dies. Love never Waxes old. History means this morning, Greece is here and now; Let us drain Time's beaker — I and thou! Press thy lips to mine, dear, Thus — and thus — and thus ; Space and time shall perish. Slain by us. All the lands of wonder — Years of pain and bliss. We will taste together In that kiss ! aotie ^vinmpfiunt LOVE'S WOKLD THE earth upon its axis span Or e'er our Father fashioned man. He viewed His worlds and called them good In their new-quickened lustihood; The flowers made riot with perfume, And every grot was rank with bloom, Yea, death-doomed beauty made so free, It mimicked immortality — Wings cleft the air, fins clave the deep, All day was song, all night was sleep. But still, O still, unborn were three — Pain, Sin, and History ! God knows how much those Junes have missed. Where lips of woman ne'er are kissed — Ah, lonely lanes be they, God knows, Where never lover plucks a rose ! The Sun, to his new course addressed. Feels his slow way across the West — Before one guest His door unbars God lights a million welcoming stars ; The moon looks down on grass and wave, And sees an Earth without a grave! 5 Hoiie Evinmpf^nni For still, O still, unborn are three — Grief, Death, and Memory ! love, lean close ! My spirit's drouth Is quenched of thirst against thy mouth ; 1 crave thy human warmth, my soul Thou fillest as an emptied bowl ! Pour in this cup all mad desire. Pour longing with its ruthless fire ! I drain the liquor to the lees — Did Eden know fierce joys like these? O dearest, what could life have meant To one in that fair prison pent — That hapless world without these three — Love, Sympathy — and Thee ! 6 ilotie 2Ct(f A WOM' A BUTTE^ r\ Slie '' Her beautv Her ni Her bl A H vittmpfiunt YMATE roses, vheat, aoiie ^riumjitjant IF LOVE WERE JESTER AT THE COURT OF DEATH IF Love were jester at the court of Death, And Death the king of all, still would I " For me the motley and the bauble, yea, Though all be vanity as the Preacher saith. The mirth of love be mine for one brief breath ! " Then would I kneel the monarch to obey. And kiss that pale hand, should it spare or slay; Since I have tasted love, what mattereth ! But if, dear God ! this heart be dry as sand. And cold as Charon's palm holding Hell's toll, How worse, how worse! Scorch it with sorrow's brand ! Haply, though dead to joy, 'twould feel that coal; Better a cross, and nails through either hand. Than Pilate's palace and a frozen soul ! 3Loi}t tltvlnmpftnnt THE SINGER BEFORE that crowd she stood, a flowerlike thing — That curious crowd that came to see her sing (See more than hear, her beauty's fame was such). Unconscious as a child, save for a touch Of happy fear like some wild bird was she, Instinct with light, and fire, and purity ; But when she sang, there fell so deep a hush. The listening ear might almost hear a blush ! Methinks the very footlights must have felt The wonder and the fragrance where they knelt. Across the years once more I see her stand. The sheet of music trembling in her hand. Suitors she had in plenty ; men who flung Their hearts with their bouquets when she had sung; She laugh'd in girlish ignorance, nor guess'd The flattery in the voices that caress'd. But, lest his blossom suff*er blight withal. Came jealously the Lover of us all, And wooed her spirit with his subtlest breath — What lad hath kiss'd so many lips as Death ! 10 aotie Evlnmpftunt Through blinding tears once more I see her lie Like a pale lily, garnered for the sky ! Mayhap one voice was missing in the choir That sings forever round God's feet of fire; Mayhap the Seraphim, leaning low, had caught Her little human echo of God's thought. And wished her thither, till she, answering, rose. Loth to leave these her friends, yet fain for those, More distant but more dear, whose lips were placed Warm on the Bridegroom's, passionately chaste. I know not; this I know: mine ear shall keep Those great soprano sounds until I sleep ; And this I know : her brow, her hair, her eye, Shall be to me a glory till I die ! 11 aotit ^vinmpfiant THE CELESTIAL MOMENT I AM only a sigh of the Infinite Powers, Only God's breath on a glass, Only one pulse of the endless hours, Only a breeze on the grass. I am only the spray on a poising wave, A cataract's foam and froth, A mushroom springing by night on a grave, The dust on the wings of a moth. I am only the flight of a sweet, swift dream. The shadow cast by a cloud, A seed that is dropp'd by a Hand Supreme In the heart of a field unploughed. And yet do you pity the butterfly That his hour so quickly goes. If over him swoons the passionate sky And under him faints the rose? O turn to me, lean to me, lips that I love! One moment of merciful bliss, — Ere my shade shall be borne to those stars above Where only the ghosts may kiss ; — 12 ILotir STtiumjii^ant Back to the stars from whence I came — ■ Over a bHndfold way, Far, O far, hke a spark to its flame, I who have lived my day, — Who have Hved my day when I flash and poise The rose of the world above. Then home like a joy to the source of joys — A love that is lost in Love. 13 lLoi}t SCtrtttuijpJja^nt A MEMORY THE Night walked down the sky With the moon in her hand ; By the hght of that yellow lantern I saw you stand. The hair that swept your shoulders Was yellow, too, Your feet as they touched the grasses Shamed the dew. The Night wore all her jewels. And you wore none, But your gown had the odor of lilies Drench'd with sun. And never was Eve of the Garden Or Mary the Maid More pure than you as you stood there Bold, yet afraid. And the sleeping birds woke, trembling, And the folded flowers were aware, And my senses were faint with the fragrant Gold of your hair. 14 And our lips found ways of speaking What words cannot say, Till a hundred nests gave music, And the East was gray. 15 2L0^e ^vinmp'^unt THE HOUR OF FIRE OWAS it you that waited in the dawn, Or Fate, or Flame, or Splendor of De- spair? Faint with the memory of your wind-blown hair, I rose — was borne to meet you, Passion's pawn Moved by The Hand! And up the terraced lawn, (To my impatience such an endless stair), Climbed past the oaks and furtive shrubbery, where You lay, pale, startled, panting hke a fawn! How wealthy, whoso holds for treasure one Such ravishing moment at a kingdom's cost! Though peace were forfeit, tho' my heart, un- done. Should pay the price with infinite years of frost, Again I'd fly, a meteor tow'rd the Sun, And on your burning breast and lips be lost! God ! once again I live that hour of hours, — Past the park gates and past the sleeping hounds, 16 ISLoiJt ^vinmpfiunt The gardener's lodge that overlooks the grounds, With the dark windows buried deep in flow'rs, The hedgerow and the woods, where shade de- vours Discovery, till at last the only sounds That stab the quiet with delicious wounds Are two loud hearts which passion overpowers ! And on your mouth — red as the new-ris'n sun That flushed the hills which peered between the trees — I tasted death and life together — one Supremest marriage at joy's height of these Old, timeless lovers ; till the Dawn was done, And Day, o'erhead, broke into golden seas ! And now! nay, but I have no song for Now, Then life was mine — now am I grown Death's slave, Whom he lets live for pastime; breeze and wave Run as of old, and younger hands must plough. Sow, reap, and spend ; yea, on new lips and brow Youth rains new kisses, but the Hand that dravc The arrow thro' my heart, when in her grave 17 Hobe ^vinvxpfinnt I buried Love, is heavy. Spare me, Thou ! Nay! spare me not! give me whate'er Thou hast In Thy black storehouse of new griefs; the gold Of one rich memory, hoarded to the last. Thou couldst not take, tho' I should thrice grow old! Mine the eternity which is the Past, Through all eternities that are foretold! 18 aoUe Zvimnpijant AT DAWN BEAUTIFUL as the feet of Atalanta, Delicate as the hand of Aphrodite, Comes the dawn across the eastern hilltops. Golden as the fleece that launch'd the Argo, Prouder than great Nineveh on the Tigris, Enters 'neath these boughs the wealth of morn- ing. Night recedes, the lingering waves of darkness Lift — forsake these heights ; the tide that drown'd us Ebbs into the dawn's flush'd indolent languor. Let us rise, O love, and tow'rd the city Take our way, — within our eyes the silence Of a memory holier than the daybreak. Thro' the long, gray streets, just wash'd with sunrise. Downward thro' the waking roar of traffic, — Onward, onward thro' the world forever! 19 Hotie SriumiJiiant HER LIPS ALL of the joy in a wild bird's nest, All that God hid in a violet's breast, All the soft wonder of twilight and star, All that white caravans bring from afar. All the wealth captured by Spain's fierce ships — All became mine at the touch of her lips ! 20 aotoe Kvixtmpfiunt CREATION A FLASH of Will and a word of Power — Your body rose like a softy white flower; Winds went North and winds went South — There grew the mystery of your mouth; Night leaned over her golden bars — Your hair blew free like a cloud of stars; Dreams and a song and a sunrise sea — Your eyes looked out from the Dawn at me! 21 aotje JSCriuiufli^ant A SONG OF CONTENT HOW many million stars must shine Which only God can see ! — Yet in the sky His hand has hung Ten thousand stars for me! How many blossoms bloom and fade Which only God can know ! — Yet here's my field of buttercups, And here my daisies blow. How many wing-paths through the blue Lure swallows up and down ■ — Yet here's my little garden walk, And yon's the road to town! How many a treacherous voice has wooed Unhappy feet to roam — Yet God has taught my willing ear The sounds of love and home! How many lips have kiss'd and clung Since Eve was Adam's bride ! — But God has given me you, dear girl, And I am satisfied! 22 aoije 2rrlumpt)ant THE BALLAD OF EDEN OTHE birds were loud in Eden, Li Eden, in Eden, They were mad with mirth in Eden So fair; O their wings were swift as flames. Sweet and curious were their names. And their songs were wild as passion, pure as prayer! n. There were rainy days in Eden, In Eden, in Eden, Days of sun and shower in Eden So fair! Carpets must be soft as floss. Woven of grass and woven of moss. Where the foot of man and foot of maid are bare! in. They were bravely clad in Eden, In Eden, in Eden, ^3 Hotie Evinmpffnnt O the fashions throve in Eden So fair! Cloth-o'-leaves from God's own vines, Thread and needles from the pines, And the wind's own way of doing up the hair! IV. O but Man was strong in Eden, In Eden, in Eden, Like a happy god in Eden, So fair, And the Woman's blood was red. All her tears were still unshed. And her lips, with soft defiance, laughed at care. V. O the world still seems an Eden, An Eden, an Eden, O the w^orld is always Eden So fair; Though the serpent's glittering eyes Have a cleverer disguise. While you're walking through the orchard, have no care! 24. aoije Evinmp^nnt VI. Still for us the earth is Eden, Is Eden, is Eden, Still our Earth, dear love, is Eden So fair, — And we taste all fruits that be, Even from the Knowledge Tree, Though its branches have been grafted with Despair! VII. O though life wax old in Eden, In Eden, in Eden, Love is still the lord of Eden So fair; All the blossoming is for us. And our happy creed runs thus: Failure visits only those who fail to dare! vm. So we fear no sword in Eden, In Eden, in Eden : — Who shall drive us from our Eden So fair! Is there built a gate — a wall ? At a lover's kiss they fall. If we love, new Edens wait us everywhere. 25 ILo^it ^viumpf^nnt TO A DISCOVERER LONG was my spirit like some lonely reef In gray, unvisited oceans, where the Sea, Relentless, drove its salt waves over me, A cold, monotonous surf of unbelief; But ere I hardened into hopeless grief. Thou camest, bringing love, faith, sympathy ; I found myself and God in finding thee. And my long dream of doubt looked void and brief. Then was my soul, with her new glory dazed. Like that green island among tropic seas When the strange sail approached the won- dering shore, And startled eyes beheld the Cross upraised, While the great Spaniard sank upon his knees, And the Te Deum shook San Salvador! 26 aotje STtfumiJtjant LOVE'S AWAKENING WHEN Memory was a desert And Life a dungeon wall, When Hope became a harlot That lured me to my fall, When June had lost its old perfume And Poetry its glow — There flashed a sense of wings and bloom ! Of joys that stir and grow! The thorns became a chaplet Upon my bleeding brow, — Night fled ; the world was sunrise ! — dearest, it was thou! My heart was lost to feeling, 1 could not weep nor smile, I had no joy of music, — O 'twas a weary while ! I lived within a sodden trance That knew nor faith nor fears. My soul was bhnd as sightless Chance, A ghost that mocked the years ; When lo! a gentle whisper, A kiss upon my brow! HoiJt SCtitttniitjatit The arms of love were round mel — O dearest I it was thou. And though 'tis still a marvel — The rapture and the wings, My heart has learned the wonder Of love that serves and sings, Now I can welcome June again And watch her roses blow. Once more I find the world of men A conflict, not a show. From worse than death awakened. Whence came the spell and how? God's angel must have touched me — Nay, darling, it was thoul 28 aobt Srittiniiljant LOVE'S FULFILMENT ALL the passion of the skies Where the moons of August hang, I have read within thine eyes. All that sage or poet guess'd, Sinai spake or Stratford sang, I have learn'd upon thy breast. All the wander-thirst of ships, Wave's wild kiss and tempest's fang, I have tasted on thy lips. Now the sting and storm are past, (Youth's mad voices — how they rang !), - Comes the calmer bliss at last! Yea, the carnal grows divine Since our souls together sprang. And my lost heart flow'd in thine ! Like the Gulf Stream in the sea. Leagues below the pulse and pang. Broods my spirit, drown'd in thee! 29 aoiie SCtitttnjjJiant THE LAST WORD WHEN I have folded up this tent And laid the soiled thing by, I shall go forth 'neath different stars, Under an unknown sky. And yet whatever house I find Beneath the grass or snow Will ne'er be tenantless of love Or lack the face I know. O lips — w ild roses wet with rain ! Blown hair of drifted brown ! passionate eyes ! O panting heart — When in that colder town 1 lie, the one inhabitant, My hands across my breast, How warm through all eternity The summer of my rest ! To each frail root beneath the ground That thrusts its flower above, I shall impart a fiercer sap — I who have known your love! 30 HoUe STr turn)!)) ant And growing things will lean to me To learn what love hath won, Till I shall whisper to the dust That secret of the Sun. Yea, though my spirit never wake To hear the voice I knew, Even an endless sleep would be Stirred by the dreams of You! 31 ilotjt ^viumpftunt LOVE'S PRICE WHEN I look for roses, Bittersweet and rue! Can it be that this is love ? — This my dream come true? Love I thought would bring me Only perfect joy, — That was twelve long months ago When I was a boy. a twelvemonth's longing! O a twelvemonth's pain ! — Sunshine only when the clouds Lift above the rain ! Doubt that dreads the morrow, Care, before unguess'd, — Then a shaft of golden joy Quivering in my breast! Yet I still press forward. Scornful of my wound, 1 will love while years shall last And the earth goes 'round! Should a man turn craven, Challenged by Desire? 32 aotie 8Ct(ttmiJijant Nay, love blesses while it bums Let me face the fire! Lads who lust for pleasure, Long for ease and mirth, I no longer walk with you Down a flow'r-clad earth; Love's white feet allure me Up a steeper way. Though I bleed I follow Her Where the peaks are gray ! 33 ILcibt ©titttttflljatit JOY AND SACRIFICE 1GAVE you all that I had, And the giving made me glad ; So great was my love the while, I asked neither thanks nor smile. If you only would let me pour My service before your door, My worship around your feet. The days and the nights were sweet. But what an end is this ! Your lips that I may not kiss At last, with a frown, command I lay no gifts in your hand. Yet, dearest, before we part Let me speak this word from my heart I have striven and lost, and yet I hold no thought of regret. I have owned life's costliest thing; Though I have drunk from a spring Where my thirst could never slake, I have given up all for your sake 34 tLo\}t Zvinntp'^unt And loved you purely and well With a peace I can never tell, And I breathe toward Heav'n this word Bless Thou my Love, O Lord 1 My Love who never gave The joy that starved hearts crave, Yet pays me a richer price For service and sacrifice. She has taught me that life can bring No better and nobler thing Than a spirit that gives and gives ; O bless my Love while she lives ! 35 aoijt Zvinmp'^unt THE SURVIVOR WHEN the last day is ended, And the nights are through ; W^hen the last sun is buried In its grave of blue; When the stars are snufFed like candles, And the seas no longer fret; When the winds unlearn their cunning. And the storms forget; When the last lip is palsied. And the last prayer said ; Love shall reign immortal While the worlds lie dead! 36 II. "Love which is the essence of God." — Emerson. 97 fio\)t ts:vixmxpftmxt THE LARGER VIEW IN buds upon some Aaron's rod The childlike ancient saw his God; Less credulous, more believing, we Read in the grass — Divinity. From Horeb's bush the Presence spoke To earlier faiths and simpler folk ; But now each bush that sweeps our fence Flames with the awful Immanence ! To old Zacchajus in his tree What mattered leaves and botany ? His sycamore was but a seat Whence he could watch that hallowed street. But now to us each elm and pine Is vibrant with the Voice divine. Not only from but in the bough Our larger creed beholds Him now. To the true faith, bark, sap and stem Are wonderful as Bethlehem ; No hill nor brook nor field nor herd But mangers the Incarnate Word ! 39 ILoije Zvinmpifant Far be it from our lips to cast Contempt upon the holy past — Whate'er the Finger writes we scan In Sinai, prophecies, or man. Again we touch the heahng hem In Nazareth or Jerusalem; We trace again those faultless years ; The cross commands our wondering tears. Yet if to us the Spirit writes On Morning's manuscript and Night's, In gospels of the growing grain, Epistles of the pond and plain. In stars, in atoms, as they roll, Each tireless round its occult pole. In wing and worm and fin and fleece, In the wise soil's surpassing peace, — Thrice ingrate he whose only look Is backward focussed on the Book, Neglectful what the Presence saith, Though He be near as blood and breath ! The only atheist is one Who hears no Voice in wind or sun. Believer in some primal curse, Deaf in God's loving universe ! 40 JSLoi^t srriumjJijant VERITAS AH, no more the lyre of deep-brow'd Homer Drops like golden rain in joy of battle Those slow spondees and those headlong dac- tyls — Sounding lines, and every line a lyric! Ah, no more the harp of dreaming David — On whose eye of faith there flash'd the Vision, From his own pure heart pro j ected skyward — Spills its splendid ecstasy of worship. Shall we then hark back to sage and shepherd. Put our lips to Ihads and Psalters, Quaffing mighty wines of war and worship. Wild and wistful with forgotten questions. Satisfied with draughts that leave us thirsting? Nay, the rather face the future boldly. Let who will look back, be ours to-morrow ! Psalms for those who like, for us truth only, That new Science which is Faith and Worship, That old Worship which still lives transfigured : God in all things — force and mind and matter. Immanent, immutable, immortal! 41 ILobt 8[;tUunp]^ant DIRECTIONS TO A TRAVELLER H OW far must I follow this dusty way ? " Till the hills grow faint in the twilight gray. " Must I keep the road till it drops from sight?" At the line of the sky is a path to the right. " And what is the name of the cross-road there?" The name on the finger-post is Care. " And must I travel that new path far? " Till the West is bright with the Evening Star. " And how many miles must I journey then? " Till you reach the Tavern of All Good Men. " And how many roofs shall I have to pass ? " But one: that Hostelry, thatched with grass. " And whither thence at the dawn of day ? " The Host, when He wakes you, will point the way. 42 aoUt SCtnumpijant THE TWOFOLD PRAYER WHEN grass is green and tall, lad, When hills are white with sheep, When whetstones ring against the scythe, And the sauntering brook's asleep ; When trees are loud with flutter and song And not a bough is sad. When skies are smiling in God's face. And even man is glad ; When June flees down her laughing lanes As fast as foot can fall. The castles that our fancies build Are fair as Ilion's wall ; Yet this must be the boon, lad, To ask the jealous years: " Oh, if ye may, bring laughter, And, if ye must, bring tears." For soon the grass shall wither, lad. And winter come with snow. Soon other hands shall hold the shear, And other arms shall mow, 43 aoijt STrfmnjii^ant Soon Helen's face must yield its grace, And youth must lose its Troy, For love unlearns its pleasure, lad. And June forgets her joy. Oh, life must give this ignorant heart The penance that it needs ! — How long a rosary seem our days When sorrow counts the beads! Yes, this shall be the prayer, lad, We ask the coming years : ^' Oh, if ye may, bring laughter, And, if ye must, bring tears." 44 aotoe ^vixtmpftani GOLGOTHA OUR crosses are hewn from different trees, But we all must have our Calvaries ; We may climb the height from a different side, But we each go up to be crucified ; As we scale the steep, another may share The dreadful load that our shoulders bear, But the costhest sorrow is all our own — For on the summit we bleed alone. 45 iiot^t ^vinmpftnnt THE NURSE (" Deathy the nurse of all'^) EVENING now has come with shadows, Colder grows the air, Look ! the Sun takes down his pictures Till his walls are bare. She we fear, the icy-bosomed. With her cold, kind face. Bending over, like a mother. Draws to her embrace. Crooning, " Night has come, and darkness, Dear ones, ye are tired, I have brought you only slumber — I, the Undesired. " Ye shall sleep in dreamless quiet Where no griefs can pass, Tears will never wet your eyelids Underneath the grass. " If ye miss the hands of loved ones Ye have press'd so oft, 46 Ho tie Zximn»i)unt Lo, the roots of flowers have fingers That are cool and soft ! " Good night! we must rise and follow Her who fares before, — How the playthings strew the pathway To that chamber-door! Nurse of all, thou unforgetful! Gentle watch-care take, Till, resigned to arms more loving, All the children wake! 47 Hotic a^vlmnp^ant N LAUS MORTIS AY, why should I fear Death, Who gives us Hfe, and in exchange takes breath ? He is hke cordial Spring That lifts above the soil each buried thing; — Like Autumn, kind and brief — The frost that chills the branches, frees the leaf ; — Like Winter's stormy hours That spread their fleece of snow to save the flowers ; — The lordliest of all things — Life lends us only feet. Death gives us wings ! Fearing no covert thrust. Let me walk onward, armed with valiant trust, Dreading no unseen knife. Across Death's threshold step from life to life! 48 aoiie ^viumpttant O all ye frightened folk, Whether ye wear a crown or bear a yoke, Laid in one equal bed, When once your coverlet of grass is spread, What daybreak need you fear? The love will rule you there which guides you here! Where Life, the Sower, stands. Scattering the ages from his swinging hands, Thou waitest. Reaper lone, Until the multitudinous grain hath grown. Scythe-bearer, when thy blade Harvests my flesh, let me be unafraid ! God's husbandman thou art ! — In His unwithering sheaves, O bind my heart! 49 aoiie SvUimjiijant A PRAYER \T mETHER my place be Thine abode V V above, Or earth, this school of love, Not mine the errand to the court of kings. But quiet, homely things — Not mine the mission to the farthest sun, But some more childlike one; I do not ask a seat at Thy right hand, — Nay, Father, bid me stand. 50 %o\}t iJCrfumjiiiant BIRTH C"^ OD thought : — J A million blazing worlds were wrought ! God will'd: — . Earth rose, while all Creation thrill'd! God spoke : — And in The Garden love awoke! God smiled : — Lo, in the mother's arms, a child! 51 3Loi}t 2Ctftttnjii)ant THE GOLDEN DOOR WHEN I have won to the Golden Door, Who will open to me? " They who have had on this little earth Alms or a smile from thee." When I have won to the Golden Door, What will be writ thereon? " This is the gate of the Evermore, The goal of the Ever gone." When I have won to the Golden Door, What shall I see beyond? " Work for the lusty, beds for the tired, Love for lips that are fond." When I have won to the Golden Door, What will the password be? " Love is the password, love is the toll, Love is the golden key." 52 JLo\}t ^vinmpl^nnt CREDO I KNOW no sin except the lack of love, I recognize the victory in defeat ; No gulf divides life here from life above, I spell perfection in the incomplete. A foe to dogma, still I hold a creed, For I believe that all life brings is good, That sharing bread and wine with men who need Is the new sacrament of brotherhood. I know the way we tread is rough and long. And yet to toil and bleed am nothing loth, And thus I journey homeward with a song. Since in the very struggle lies my growth. And when I reach that last green hostelry Whence none have ever yet been turned away. The slumber will be sound which falls on me, Till dawns that longer, new, divine To-day. Joy! only joy! for Love is there and here — Peace, only peace ! though desperate my dis- tress ; I find no f oeman in the road but Fear — To doubt is failure, and to dare, success ! 53 lloiJir ^vlnmpt^mii LOVE IMMORTAL CHURCHES, nay, I count you vain, Lifting high a gloomy spire, Like some frozen form of pain Aching up to meet desire ; Standing from God's poor apart — Granite walls and granite heart! Sects, ye have your day, and die, Eddies in the stream of truth, — The great current, sweeping by, Leaves you swirled in shapes uncouth, Bom to writhe, and ghnt, and woo — Broken mirrors of the Blue. Creeds ! — O captured heavenly bird, Fluttering heart and folded wing! Shall ye see those pinions stirred? Can your caged Creation sing? Will ye herald as your prize What was bred to soar the skLes? Rites and pomp, what part have ye In the service of the heart? 54 aoiie StiiimflJjcint Rituals are but mummery, Faith's white flame is snuffed by art; Candles be but wick and wax, Alms have grown the temple-tax. Yet the East is red with dawn, Like a cross where One hath bled! And upon that splendor drawn — Gentle eyes and arms outspread — See that figure stretched above ! As God lives ! its name is Love ! Love that lights the fireless brands, Love that cares for world and wren. Bleeding from the broken hands — Crowned with thorns that conquer men ; Only Love's great eyes inspire Church, sect, creed to glow with fire. Yet our lips shall have no sneer For the spire, the mosque, the ark. Broken symbols shall be dear If they point us through the dark, — Laws and scripture served our youth Who have grown the sons of truth ! 55 S.obe ^vinm»fiunt BETHLEHEM MORN INTO the city of David rode A man and a girl to a mean abode, He the carpenter, staunch of limb, She the virgin espoused to him. And lo ! in the pastures white with sheep The flocks were stirring, aroused from sleep, While far from the hillsides, fresh with morn, The bleating of hungry lambs was borne ; And as through the warm air, moist with dew. Drifted the cry of each answering ewe, The woman flushed, with a sudden start. And pressed both hands beneath her heart. " Mary, why dost thou ride so ill ? " Mine eyes were turned to yonder hill, '' Mary, why dost thou start with fear ? " The promised day of the Lord is near! 56 aoUt Evimnpf^nnt THE WIDOW'S SON OHOW they welcomed him once more The wondering lads of Nain ! He stood before the widow's door Whom Death had robbed in vain ! And as he joined them in their sports, What must his heart have said — He who had lain within the courts Where sleep the fleshless dead! And she whose arms won back their all From the eternal years, Ah, God ! behind her cottage wall, What gratitude and tears! Now son and mother both are dust, With all the lads they knew. No prophet stayed Death's second thrust Beneath the Syrian blue. But still the gentle hand is strong Which touched the unquicken'd clay ; Wherever Sorrow's children throng The Nazarene walks to-day! 57 aoiJt JJTiiumiJljant SHEKINAH ARK that rode the Deluge wave Found on Ararat her grave, All her stalwart gopher-wood Rotted in that solitude: Ark that held the holy things, Shadow'd by the golden wings, Fallen into dust, is blown Round the hills where once it shone. Yet the Covenant is true, God hath kept His oath with you; In the humblest heart, behold Something costlier than gold ! — Hush ! within that quivering shrine Broods the Immanent Divine ! 58 aLoiie ^vixtmp^ant THE SEA OF FAITH HAVE you lifted anchor and hoisted sail? Does your ship stand out to sea? Have you scofF'd at peril and dared the gale Where the waves and the winds are free? Is safety a thought that you count disgrace ' When duty and danger call? Would you stand on the deck with a smile on your face And perish the first of all? Is your old sail salt with the frozen foam And gray as a sea-gull's wing? Do you never long for land and home When the great waves clutch and cling? O the Sea of Faith hath storms, God knows, And the haven is very far, But he is my brother-in-blood who goes With his eye on the polar star, With his hand on the canvas, his foot on the ropes, His heart beating loud in his breast, 59 aotie Zvlnmp^unt With dauntless courage and quenchless hopes And the old divine unrest! The swift keels chafe in the Harbor of Doubt, They were built for the glorious blue, Where the stout masts bend and the sailors shout, And the wave-drench'd compass is true ! Then here's my hand, O lad of my heart, O dauntless spirit and free! The tide is high ! They strain, they start ! — The ships of the infinite sea! 60 Eoiie ffitttttniifjant THE ANSWER "TV TAKE of my heart," I cried, "a lyre i,Vi whereon The wind of man's desire shall sweep some string Into immortal music; utterly gone My dearest hopes unless I gain this thing ; " Then the calm Voice : " Nay, son, thy prayer is wild, But thou mayest feed, for Me, an hungry child." " Give me to die in some supreme emprise, And, falling, shout, ' They flee, the field is ours ; ' When Stephen raised to Heav'n those angel eyes. The stones that crush'd his body seem'd like flowers ; A martyr's or a warrior's death be mine ! " " Nay, dreamer, thou must learn to serve, not shine." 61 aobr Evinmpftunt " Yea, let me serve ; be mine the holj wrath Which deals the heart of Vice its deadliest thrust, Better a thousand perils in my path Than such sad safety where the roads are dust;" " Nay, child, thy peril is thy restless will, — Thy task is patience ; suffer and be still ! " " O Infinite Love, I lean my heart on Thine ! The humblest task Thou hast my j oy shall be ! Behold, the sandiest pathways grow divine If so these leagues of desert lead toward Thee; Come joy or pain. Thy will not mine be done." " At last thy prayer is answered, O my son ! " 62 aoije Zvimnpiiiini A SIMPLE STORY SHE sewed the little caps and frocks, And bought the cradle-bed, Though I may die, he shall not want For anything," she said. One morn within her arms they laid The long-awaited guest — The mother lived, but, ah, the child Was cold upon her breast! And sadly in that careful drawer. With tiny clothes replete. They left the fair white things untouched. All save the winding-sheet — All save a little doll-like robe. Fetched forth with tears to be The silent stranger's only dress Until eternity. 63 aoUt JJTtttttniJi&ant HER TRANSPLANTED ROSE TO M. C. G. HE came to her in the early dawn, And Hved in her arms one day, But the httle baby soul was tired, It had fared such a long, long way. She thought it only an earthly flower, Though the sweetest ever blown. Nor guess'd how in that blossoming life Was an angel made her own. But a whisper grew at the lips of the world, The sun rode, hush'd and high. She look'd, and caught the eye of God As the sorrowing winds went by ; And her heart lay close to the Heart of All, While the morning held its breath. Ah me ! the messenger stole so near. And the name on his wings was Death! And in the silence the truth grew plain — How a finer soil than ours 64 Eotie Zvinmp^ant Is needed to ripen the fairest souls For the garden of heavenly tlowers. And the child, when the Summons came at dusk, Look'd up with its eyes of blue Straight into the vision, as though to say, " How long I have watched for you ! " Then fell back cold on its mother's breast — And she knew, though her eyes were dim, While this meant torturing grief for her. It was endless peace for him. And the flowers they sent to the lonely room Wither'd beside her bed. But her little immortal flower was safe ; — She smiled when they calPd it dead! 65 ii^^t Kxiumpl^nnt THE STEPS SEIZE your staff! beyond this height We shall find the Infinite Light! Gird your thigh! this sword shall hew Paths that reach the untroubled blue ! Though dark moiintains form the stair, It is ours to climb and dare ! Law, truth, love — the peaks are three : Sinai, Olives, Calvary! 66 aobr i!rriuin»i)emt ON THE PATH " /^H, the sea is so gray, V^y And the sky is so black; Thorns and briers choke the way, Must I die, or turn back ? " Underfoot is the trail. And the Goal is rwt far; On the sea is a sail. In the shy is a star! 67 Hoiie ©tttttniJiiant TO AN OAK OTIME - DEFIER ! standing near the way Where thousands pass who are but leaves to thee, Clinging to the frail bough, Humanity, And both alike earth-destined, thou and they, I look on thee with wonder, — let me stay Beneath thy stalwart shadow, till I see Clearly the vision thou wouldst bring to me: / shall surmount defeat, survive decay! Thy soil is Earth, and mine is God; if I Could thrust my roots down with such faith as thine. What leaves and boughs of love would greet the sky. Their buried lips thirst-quench'd at springs divine. Yea, thy hale permanence were less than mine, I who, though slain by Death, can never die ! 68 Hoiyt SCtitttnjjJjant A CHALLENGE DEFEAT and I are strangers; though the scourge Of wild injustice, knotted with all wrongs, Writhe round my spirit, if I cannot smile. Then write me craven, say, " He met the test Sent to all souls, only to faint and fall, His courage grovels, let us call him slave ! " O rather, when the mad Hands through the dark. Unseen and self-provoked, shall lash my will. Let me the stauncher bare me to the blow, Rise, hide my hurt, suppress the groan, fold arms. Erect and scornful, though my back may bleed, Though flesh, nerve, sensibilities, cry out! Not otherwise Zenobia must have felt. Fettered with golden fetters, when she walked Behind Aurelian's chariot, still a queen! Not otherwise Napoleon, when he trod That abject island, where the very guards Felt him the master, though they bore the guns And he was weaponless, the man whose eye Could daunt Disaster and command the world. 69 aoije JETtlttWiii^ant Thus would I live and thus would die; I come God knows ! of a long Hneage of kings : — Burke, Cromwell, Luther, Paul, and Socrates, Emerson, Milton, Cranmer, Charlemagne, Columbus, Tolstoi, Lincoln, Augustine — The monarchs of the spirit in all times, Exalted thrones defiant of decay. Then hurl all thunderbolts upon my brow, Dash me, O life, with waves of salt and blood. Empty thy quiver, Sorrow, in my breast. Ye cannot, O ye Powers, compel my soul, For, rob me as ye will, three things are left Which make your fury impotent and vain: That pride in self that lifts me from the worm, These sympathies that join me to my kind. This Higher Hope that hands me on to God, And armors me in immortality ! 70 2lotie S^viuintiliant WHAT IS HEAVEN? I HEARD a preacher talk of Heaven, a land Reserved for him and his, the Lord's elect ; He threatened vengeance with a clench'd right hand On doubters of the dogmas of liis sect. " One shall be taken and the other left ; What widow knows, wild with the parting kiss, But God may choose that she remain bereft, Divorced by Hell's impassable abyss? " A mother will not meet her child when Death Disjoins them, if his soul be unredeemed, These loves of earth are fugitive as breath And have no weight with God." Thus he blasphemed. Merely a boy, as I beheld the sky Through the church windows, I grew sick with fear, As fatherless as Hagar's child felt I, Beggared of hope and naked of all cheer. 71 Hotje Zvinmpt)uni I left the barren room, while still the flock Were worshipping their God, or thought they were, — " Joy ! " smiled the flowers, " Peace ! " sang each patient rock, *' Love ! " shouted forth each wild bird-chor- ister. And happy children raced along a brook. And matched with innocent boasts their rival speed ; But service now was out, — I saw rebuke In faces blackened by a loveless creed. Then flashed God's truth! and from that day the lies Framed by the creeds of men, which mock our earth, Burlesque the sun and travesty the skies, I value only at their worthless worth. Heaven ? What is Heaven ! Escape from burn- ing coals, Or simply love? Well, one thing it is never: An aristocracy of virtuous souls Where the self-righteous sun themselves for- ever ! 72 Hobe STrfumpJiant To think that Love's creator rashly hurled To outer darkness such a masterpiece ! — Love — the best gift in this or any world, Made perfect, to be shattered in caprice. A pagan, bowing down to sea or sun Or harmless idol on his cabin shelf, Is nearer Truth than you whose God is one Less good and merciful than you yourself. If God is God, and if His name be Love, Can He elect or damn like some mad Fate? Far better say no life exists above Than bend the knee to worship infinite Hate ! Love must survive, a thing of all delight. In this fair Heaven between the grass and blue And in what Heavens may lie beyond our sight, — But who elects it.? is it God, or you? 73 aoiit SCrimniJijant OUT OF THE DEPTHS TORN upon Thy wheel, Foul'd with blood and dust, Still my heart can feel. Still trust ; Still my lips can urge, " Heal me with Thy sword, Cleanse me with Thy scourge, Lord, Lord ! " Though a bleeding clod, Faint with thirst and pain. Still my hopes, dear God, Remain ; Yea, and more than hope : Faith! a prayer! a wing! Even on Calvary's slope, I sing! 74. %oi}t J!txinm»^ani O TROUBLED OVER MANY THINGS O TROUBLED over many things, Choose thou the better part, — Service unconscious of itself And childlikeness of heart. Why breathe Earth's heavy atmosphere, Forgetful one can fly, When the high zenith. Infinite Love, Allures us to the sky? The virtues hide their vanquish'd fires Within that whiter flame. Till conscience grows irrelevant And duty but a name ! 76 III. "Love coveretli all sins." — Proverbs x. 12. Love scarce is love that never knows The sweetness of forgiving." — Whittier. 77 Hoiic 8Ct(ttmjji()ant THE GLASS TO the Great Mirror toddled the wee child, And viewed his puzzled eyes there, won- der-wild : "Who are you, baby? Are you me? Say true ! " He scarce could guess, t)ut all too soon he knew ! To the Great INIirror strode the man mature, Passion and guilt defaced a brow once pure; He groaned, " Is that myself? Thou shade of hell. Would God thou couldst deceive! I know thee well ! " 79 aoije SCtrtttwiiiiant SIN'S FOLIAGE DO you ask why this woman has always a shadow on her face? In her girlhood she planted in virgin soil a sweet sin, And she looked only for joy from the shoots, tender and fresh. But when years passed, and Memory had wat- ered it. And Remorse had digged about and dunged it, And Conscience, the owl, had hooted from its branches night and day. She learned that she had planted the seeds thereof in her own soul, and that whilst the soil grew thinner the roots had waxed longer and the branches mightier. And now she sits where the sunlight can never enter, in the dense shadow of the boughs. And strives to stay her hunger with their fruit. 80 aotje ©tittmiJJjaut ONE WOMAN THE souls of Strauss and Schubert Swept through the viohns, But what cared she who danced apart — She, alone with her sins ! For under the roses and diamonds, And back of the lips that smiled, Sat Memory holding The Secret, As a mother holds her child! 81 2Lo4)e s:iiunT|iJjant BETRAYED Tyf^HOSO has lived to love and bless, yi^ Given nny for nay and yes for yes. Will find my fable foolishness. Albeit he had thought to woo her, When he met happiness he drew her Apart from all men's sight, and slew her. Yet were his hands and conscience clean ; Some monstrous Folly rose unseen To teach him crimes he could not mean. His lips keep up a brave disguise, But one can read within his eyes Such thoughts as these, beneath all lies: " Only to think that, poised above A bosom softer than a dove. My hand should stab the heart I love! " One fierce caress, one playful blow — Her life-blood stained her breast of snow ; Yet, O m}'^ God, how could I know ! " 82 aotiir StUnnpljant Whoso has falVn from Heav'n to Hell, In one mad moment's fateful spell, — For you, for you, this parable! 1Loi}t ^vinmpttunt TO THE MOON SISTER, what Death which finds no god to quicken Infects that sky where thou w^ast set of old? — For now thou hest, leper-white and stricken, With shrunken breasts and cold. How came the passionate fires of love to lan- guish. Sucked from the fierce veins of thy sire, the Sun? O wrinkle-browed and barren, whence thine an- guish ? Whisper it, hapless one! Art thou Heaven's broken heart? When Earth beneath thee Forsook love's orbit, innocent and fair. And followed paths of sin, did Fate bequeath thee The task of watching there ? — 84 aotie ^vinmp'^ant Watching with sunken eyes and pallid features And horror-smitten face as white as snow This home of profligate and sorrowing crea- tures That mocks thee from below? 85 ILobt JKtdtmjii^ant LOST NIGHT scattered gold-dust in the eyes of Earth, My heart was blinded by the excess of stars, As, filled with youth and joy, I kept the Way. The solitary and unweaponed Sun Slew all the hosts of darkness with a smile. And it was Dawn. And still I kept the Way. The Winds, those hounds that only God can leash, Bayed on my track, and made the morning wild With loud confusion, but I kept the Way. The hours climbed high. Peace, where the Zenith broods. Fell, a blue feather from the wings of Heav'n: Lo! it was Noon. And still I kept the Way. At length one met me as my footsteps flagged, — Within her eyes oblivion, on her lips Delirious dreams — and I forgot the Way. 86 aotJt STriumpfiant And still we wander — who knows whitherward ! Onr sandals torn, in either face despair, Passion burnt out — God ! I have lost the Way. O for that dusty trail, the stones, the thorns ! These meadow flowers they burn me like hell's flame. Harlot, I hate thee ! O the Way ! the Way ! Before I die, one gHmpse ! the Way ! the Way ! 87 Hobt Exiumptiunt THE THREE MARY of Nazareth, loving and kind, The mission of Him she bore divined Vaguely and dim, with a wondering mind. Mary of Bethany, gentle and fair, Gave Him what cheer her home could spare, And smiled with the peace of quiet prayer. Soiled with the dust of the gazing street, Stealing in where He sat at meat, Mary the Magdalen kissed His feet. Mary the virgin marvel'd with fear, Mary the listener lent Him her ear. But Mary the prodigal faltered near, — Tho' wonder and loathing filled the place. And Simon counted her touch disgrace, She bent o'er the Master her tear-stain'd face, — And her wealth of warm, dark hair, unbound, About His feet she wound and wound — Her sobbing was the only sound. 88 aotoe JETrfumjJijant Mary the hostess made Him her guest, He had lain on Mary the Mother's breast, But the Magdalen's gift was costliest: She brought her past, its bliss and shame, Strange sins, wild memories fierce as flame — And in her tears was wash'd from blame ! One sat with patient joy at His side, One stood by the Roman cross where He died. One gave herself and her broken pride. 89 aotit STriunijii^ant DISCORD BLUE eyes blurr'd with weeping, How ye hurt the grace Of untroubled twihghts, Night's unwrinkled face! Still the boughs of April Greet their annual guests, Still the new-born singers Stir a thousand nests. Brooks and fields and pastures Always seem so glad ! — Oh, how strange that only You and I are sad! Oh, how strange that discord Is a human thing. That God's orchestra can play. With one broken string ! Though the other instruments — Joined in faultless tune — Render perfect symphonies — Winter, Stars, and June, 90 aoUt Zvixim9f)^nt InhaiTnonious music From this human Ijre, Smites the ear of angels And condemns the choir. Master of the players, In whose smile is fame, Spoilt is all our music — Hearken to our shame ! — If Thou canst, these broken Harps again employ; Tune them to Thy glory In the key of joy ! Then shall pass from memory This discordant din Which disturbs Creation — Sorrow, Care, and Sin. Then shall rise forever From the cloud and clod Love's majestic chorus: — "We rejoice, O God!" 91 Hoiir ^vinmpftunt THE DISCIPLINE OF FAILURE HERE is what the years at last have taught me, This the creed that life, not man, has fash- ioned : — Suffering wrought by guilt is never final — Retribution is but reclamation, Punishment remedial, self -redemptive. Sin the scourge wherewith Love drives us sun- ward. And remorse no drowning sea of anguish. But the tear-bath whence we rise unsullied. Like a child we learn to walk by stumbling — Learn to shun the flame by tortured fingers; Though the scars may bum our flesh and spirit Through Earth's little years, dust-bom, grave- destined, God has other worlds, and life is timeless ; We shall find the deepest wounds self-healing. When Love's surgery makes plain its purpose! Thus believing, I have come to love you, All who climb with me from self to freedom. Let me kiss thy lips, O fallen brother! Let my arms enfold thee, fallen sister! 92 JLotJt Zvinmpftunt Let me trust and love you back to honor, Let me draw you to the Great Forgiveness, — Not as one above who stoops to save you, Not as one who stands aside with counsel. Nay, as he who says, " I, too, was wounded With the stones, the briers — I, too, was poi- soned With the flowers that sting, but now, arisen, I am struggling up the path beside you; Rise! and let us face these heights together." Eobt 2Cr(ttin»iiant IN A FAE COUNTRY WHEN God made the last of his crea- tures, Man, who should reigii. He gave him the strong, white body. And the reasoning brain, A voice which could mould its language To a silver tone, A love that was more than passion — A will like His own ! But the years flowed by — dark waters Troubled with rain. Till a sullied stream confronted The sky's disdain, — And man, w^ith the wants immortal And the visions brief. Grew fain of the terrible pleasures That are worse than grief, And there throve such curious vices For his princely mirth, 94 ZLoiie Zvinmpi)ani That He who had shapen this creature From the sands of earth Looked down on a brain that faltered, A song that was dumb, On beds of lust and of sickness, On brothel and slum. But think ye the Artist repented? Or cast to the void The work He found good in the making, As it lay, self -destroyed ? Nay, the infinite Workman ponder'd, " From him We have wrought There is only one gift withholdcn Ere he reach to Our thought. " If his heart lack Grace, it is only A lair for pride; He must kneel at Our feet for a season, Ere he reign at Our side. " We will give him great prodigal cities — Tyre, Babylon, Rome, — He shall cat of their husks till he famish, And his feet turn home! 95 aotJt SCriutnjiiiant " He must pray, he must serve, he must suffer. Till, clean of his stain, He Is humble and meet for Our presence — Made perfect through pain." And man hears the call of his Father, And dares to rejoice; Even now, though Earth's harlotries lure him. He leans tow'rd the Voice! 96 Slotie ^Triumpljant L'ENVOI OLOVE triumphant over guilt and sin, My soul is soiled, but Thou shalt enter in ; My feet must stumble if I walk alone. Lonely my heart, till beating by Thine own, My will is weakness till it rest in Thine, Cut off, I wither, thirsting for the Vine, My deeds are dry leaves on a sapless tree, My life is Kf eless till it live in Thee ! 97 IV "I do love My country's good." — Shakespeare. L.of 99 Hotie SCtfttmjjfjant HAIL, AMERICA! HAIL! child of peak and prairie, Where'er the morning breaks Between the two gray oceans, Between the Gulf and Lakes ! O wrested from the wilderness And sown with sweat and tears ! O answer of the patriot's prayer, Goal of the pioneers! — Rich fabric of the fifty States, Woven at Freedom's loom. Three hundred years of history. Three thousand miles of bloom ! Stand up, good fellows! lift each glass. And join the toast with me: A merica ! A mer'ica ! Our Motherland, America! A health to thine and Thee! 101 aotje JTrltttuptjant THE COMING SINGER NONE of the old tunes, poet ! Give us the Song of the Real ! Out of the stuff of Freedom Fashion a new ideal! No verse in a patron's palace From mouths that sing for a crust, But from lips on fire with the soul's desire That sing because they must ! For this is the land of our winning, And the Vision grows and grows! Shod with the sands of Cuba, Crowned with the Klondike snows ! A Mother of fifty daughters. Sunburnt and rude and strong, She has had the glory of conquest. And she waits the wonder of song. By our fathers' swords ! we love her ! And every child of her brood — These starry States that cluster In the pure, proud sisterhood! 102 aotje Zviumpi)ant We will dip no quill with feathers ; We will write with a blunted pen ; In the ink of our sweat we will find it yet, The song that is fit for men ! And the woodsman he shall sing it, And his axe shall mark the time; And the bearded lips of the boatman While his oar-blades fall in rhyme; And the man with his fist on the throttle, And the man with his foot on the brake. And the man who will scoff at danger And die for a comrade's sake; And the Hand that wrought the Vision With prairie and peak and stream Shall guide the hand of the workman And help him to trace his dream ! — Till the rugged lines grow perfect, And round to a faultless whole, For the West will have found her singer When her singer has found his soul ! 103 aotoe J!Crtttmiiiftant THE NEW PATRIOT WHO is the patriot? he who lights The torch of war from hill to hill? Or he who kindles on the heights The beacon of a world's good-will? Who is the patriot? he who nails A flag to some defiant pole? Or he who follows dangerous trails. And guides a people to its goal? Who is the patriot? he who sends A boastful challenge o'er the sea? Or he who sows the earth with friends, And reaps world-wide fraternity? Who is the patriot? Bonaparte, Who made a continent his prey? Or Tolstoi of the gentle heart, Who shares the peasant's toilsome day? Is it the Scribe, race-proud, serene, Smiling his scorn from Moses' seat? Or the compassionate Nazarene, With Roman publicans at meat? 104 2loi3e JKtittmiJijant Who is the patriot? It is he Who knows no boundary, race, or creed, Whose nation is humanity, Whose countrymen all souls that need; Whose first allegiance is vowed To the fair land that gave him birth, Yet serves among the doubting crowd The broader interests of Earth. The soil that bred the pioneers He loves and guards, yet loves the more That larger land without frontiers. Those wider seas without a shore. If duty calls, the first to die On fields of honor and of fame. But readier, where the vanquish'd lie. To heal the wounded, raise the lame. Who is the patriot ? Only he Whose business is the general good, Whose keenest sword is sympathy, Whose dearest flag is brotherhood. 105 ILabe JSCtiuniiJiiant THE MASTERS INCOMPARABLE white galaxy of suns! O stars of song whose lustre blinds the day — ^schylus, Homer, Shakespeare, — deathless ones Holding on high your proud and lonely way ! Rulers of Night's domain of domeless space. Transcendent thrones, victorious over Time, Slaying with splendor from your distant place A thousand flickering satellites of rhyme! God ! what are we, that underneath such skies We dare to light our tapers! From afar The constellations watch this mad emprise: A puny candle challenging a star! 106 aobe ffiviumiJtjant A MODERN POET THOSE radiant spirits who, the suns of song, Shine with the distant permanence of a star, A calm, incomparable, undying throng. Rebuke our flickering tapers from afar. And yet the modern poet 'neath that vast Confuting sky, may walk with unbowed head ; Those stellar voices sang a withering past, — Their art is deathless, but their world is dead ! Slain on the lips hath perish'd praise of kings. Sceptres have bent like straw, and rust makes free With crowns and castles — Pride's poor trivial things — As Winter's white tooth gnaws the helpless tree ! Dead are the masters, — now the slaves shall rule; Still blind with tyranny, ignorant of their power ; — 107 iLot3f ©vittttifltiant Democracy, unchain'd to sect and school, Strides darkly forth to meet her destined hour! For lo ! at last within the barbarous West A fair, unfetter'd land has risen and reigned, Throned in the crags, and from her tawny breast The milk of liberty has long been drained, Till there have grown fierce daughters in her gates. Guarding the jealous portals of the free, A stalwart sisterhood of equal States, Hand clasping hand with love from sea to sea ! Great Motherland arisen from the waves. Lake-girdled, polar-crown'd, and tropic-shod. Who bought her freedom with a million graves, And never bowed the knee except to God! Shall feudal rhymesters of an outworn brood. In pale, perfunctory verse sing such as she? Rather a race unkempt, athletic, rude. Rough as the prairies, tameless as the sea! 108 %o\)t Eviumpfiunt Yet not alone upon these rugged coasts Hath Freedom raised her throne; she reigns where'er Serfs cry for vengeance to the Lord of Hosts, Or exiled peasants grasp the sword of prayer. True to their vision were the bards of old, But this more glorious dream demands new wings ; Hail him who soared to heights remote and cold, Thrice hail, who loves the People's cause, and sings ! He may not lord those empires of the skies Where art, immutable, immortal, gleams, But he will strip the scales from slumbering eyes. And nations half-awake shall learn their dreams ! Great God! give us to strike the People's lyre Once, only once! then perish if we must! One hour of life, to lead that grander choir Whose noblest notes will echo o'er our dust! And when Thy hand has seal'd these lips with clay, And we are soil for Earth's recurrent Springs, 109 Hoiie