EN POEMS -By GEORGE MORGAN BACON SALT IJ^JCl, CJTY IHF ARROW PR«SS 191 :'■ SEVEN POEMS By GEORGE MORGAN BACON SALT LAKE CITY THE ARROW PRESS 1912 Copyright, 1912 By Geo. M. Bacon / C!.A33u405 THE GATES OF DEATH Ye dreaded ports that mock us through our fears, Behind whose sombre leaves the Unknown lies, I smile at you and, turning, face those years That steeped with light and shade like dim ghosts rise. The joys and griefs of childhood once more thrill. And as their echoes fade and pass I taste The full, strong draught of Life whose essence, Will, Bade me fight on 'gainst Self and all that cloys. Zest of battle, knowledge of something done. Pain of loss and sorrow of dying hopes, Voices of children, touch of tiny hands. Long years with one beyond expression dear, These fill my eyes with happy tears that blind Visions of terror — and I fear you not. Oct. so, igii. TO MY WIFE Dear heart, as quiet evening shadows fall, My thoughts from troubling cease, and mem'ries ris<| Flooding my soul with light, and at their call, Yearning, my lonely spirit homeward flies. Visions there come of lovers' days and hours, Fragrant with bliss new-found,, when the deep thrill Of lip to lip and fingers twined waked powers All dormant when the pulse moved slow and still. And yet that time surcharged with joy is naught To fuller knowledge won through passing years As side by side with growing trust we fought The narrow aims of self whose fruit is tears. And learned the stern great truth that Love to gro^ Must feed on joys that out of serving flow. No'v. i6, igii. GOTTERDAMMERUNG Ye whose sole worship is kneeling And murm'ring of forms that are dead, Whose faith in darkness is reeling, Who falter where braver ones led : With grief must you see 'round you fall Beliefs that were started of eld, No more with firm hope can ye call On creeds which your forefathers held. As dust unto dust returneth. So doomed are those symbols of clay, No longer in them sojourneth The spirit man frightened away. Life passing on through each being As parent gives place to the child. That is the soul once thought fleeing From flesh where a moment it whiled. ---•i^-- * i »ii fc .». Always, unconquered, within you Eternal there liveth the Light, And Truth, that ever shall aid you Though shrouded and dim to our sight. Sorrow and pain and the weeping Of eyes we would free from all tears, The death of hopes we were keeping To stifle our doubts and our fears, These be the steps leading upward. As out of the slough and the mire We bravely fight our way homeward To peace and the goal of desire. No^. 17, igii. THE MAN OF SORROWS Ye foolish ones, who, struggling, fight and turn Occasions to those selfish ends that cheat Your fondest hopes, and toiling seek to earn The vain rewards which gained, but mark defeat ; Ye clever ones, who garner in with pride A goodly store of knowledge heaped on high And boasting from that vantage ground deride All claims of spirit and the soul deny ; Mayhap before the night comes on ye'll see Athwart the face of Time the light still shed From one pure life and trembling know how He Of humble birth and lowly mien hath led The weary, heavy-laden'd sons of men To that sure peace 'till now beyond your ken. Dec. 4, iQii. L'ENVOI If Fate hath willed that we shall meet no more, If down the vista of the coming years Which stretch through twilight on to Lethe's shore I gaze with longing, and some vague dim fears Give subtle warning that the future days May ne'er be flooded with that light divine Which shining once makes now a leaden haze Like sunset at a stormy day's decline; Why then, dear love,, despite it all I give Unending thanks for those few hours most fair Which taught me what you were and bade me live For one brief space in bliss so wondrous rare That fairy idylls seem but rude, cheap dross Whose clumsy purpose is to point my loss. March 20, igi2. IN MEMORIAM Because awak'ning brings no thrill at dawn, Because the long grim horror called the night Is ever peopled by a grisly spawn Of fond and foolish hopes whose sudden blight Made cruel mock of all I held most dear: Because of this, and all the untold woe That lamed and halting speech cannot make clear, I cringe at reaping now what joy did sow. And yet, ah God, this mighty sum of pain Whose fearsome shadow blackens each day's sun Is but the petty measure of the gain Which my life drew from those long years with one Unto this heart so dear that human love Must own some source this poor cold earth above. Aug. IS, igi2 INVOCATION TO LOVE Thou lambent flame, whose quick'ning touch doth stir The spirit slumb'ring in our mortal clay ; Eternal Essence of all things divine That lifts us from our lower selves on high Until the sound of angel's wings beats low Upon that inner ear all new attuned To music of the Ages crashing down In solemn splendor through the aisles of Time : — Those dear, sweet scenes that youth and maiden paint Upon the canvas broad that fancy spreads, Those pictures fair that gild the humblest hopes And make such utter mock of Time and Space, Are but the wanton magic of thy spell As faint at first unto the human heart Thy dawning rays on the horizon dim Foretell the coming of the perfect day. 10 Thy noontide fire doth dazzle with its light The eyes that prying seek to clearly read The mystic secret of each new young life, Or which, o'er daring,, fain would force their gaze Into the sacred shrine of Mother-love Where all immortal dwells the very soul Of all that hath been or that yet may be. And in the evening glow of sunset days Shed o'er the ancient path that little feet With tripping steps have worn into our hearts. We see the ling'ring ghosts of good deeds past Wending their quiet way to join the throng That through the aeons yet to come shall bear The grateful tributes to thy conquering might. Dec. I, igi2. 11 DEC 23 1912