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 jitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 
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 The Library of Congress 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/poemsofpower02wilc 
 
 
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Poems of Power 
 
 BY 
 
 Ella Wheeler Wilcox 
 
 , > , > , . > > > ■ >' ' 
 
 CHICAGO 
 
 W. B. CONKEY COMPANY 
 
 PUBLISHERS 
 
THE LIBRARY OF 
 CONGRESS, 
 
 Two Cowts Recsiv*33 
 
 SEP. 25 1902 
 
 CnOVBWHT EHTWV 
 
 CLAS^XX^ MO- 
 
 J 5 a / vTX~ 
 cop* w. 
 
 
 Copyright. 1901, 
 
 BY 
 
 ELLA WHEELER WILCOX 
 
 Copyright. 1902, 
 
 BY 
 
 ELLA WHEELER WILCOX 
 
Preface Note 
 
 THE final word in the title of this volume refers 
 
 to the Divi?ie Power in every human being, 
 
 the recognition of which is the secret to all success 
 
 and happiness. It is this idea which many of the 
 
 verses endeavor to illustrate. 
 
 THE AUTHOR 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Meeting of the Centuries 9 
 
 Death has Crowned Him a Martyr 12 
 
 Grief 14 
 
 Speech 16 
 
 Illusion 17 
 
 Assertion 18 
 
 The Queen's Last Ride 19 
 
 I Am 21 
 
 Woman and War 23 
 
 A Fallen Leaf t 25 
 
 This Too Shall Pass Away ; 26 
 
 Success 28 
 
 Recrimination 29 
 
 Threefold 31 
 
 Wishing 33 
 
 We Two 84 
 
 The Poet's Theme 35 
 
 Love is All 37 
 
 Song of the Spirit 39 
 
 Womanhood 40 
 
 Morning Prayer 41 
 
 Voices of the People 42 
 
 The World Grows Better 44 
 
 The Bed 46 
 
 Discontent 48 
 
 A Man's Ideal 49 
 
 War Sonnets 50 
 
 My Launch and 1 52 
 
 The Fire Brigade 54 
 
 Progress 56 
 
 The Tides 57 
 
 That Day 58 
 
 So Many Ways 60 
 
 The Protest 62 
 
 The Snowflake 63 
 
 God's Motto 65 
 
 How Like the Sea 66 
 
 True Charity 67 
 
 When the Regiment Came Back 68 
 
 Woman to Man 69 
 
 The Traveler 71 
 
 The Earth 72 
 
 Now 73 
 
 You and To-day 74 
 
 The Reason 75 
 
 The Chain 76 
 
 7 
 
» CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 M ission 78 
 
 Repetition 79 
 
 Begin the Day > 80 
 
 Words 81 
 
 Fate and 1 82 
 
 Unto the End 84 
 
 Attainment 85 
 
 A Plea to Peace 86 
 
 Presumption — 88 
 
 HighNoon 89 
 
 Thought-Magnets 91 
 
 Smiles 92 
 
 The Undiscovered Country 94 
 
 The Universal Route 95 
 
 Unanswered Prayers 96 
 
 Thanksgiving 98 
 
 Contrasts 100 
 
 Thy Ship 101 
 
 Life 103 
 
 A Marine Etching 105 
 
 Love Thyself Last 106 
 
 Christmas Fancies 107 
 
 The River 110 
 
 Sorry 112 
 
 Ambition's Trail 114 
 
 Uncontrolled 115 
 
 Will 116 
 
 To an Astrologer 117 
 
 The Tendril's Fate 119 
 
 The Times 120 
 
 The Question 121 
 
 Sorrow's Uses 122 
 
 If 123 
 
 Which Are You? 124 
 
 The Creed to Be 126 
 
 Inspiration 128 
 
 The Wish 129 
 
 Three Friends 130 
 
 You Never Can Tell 132 
 
 Here and Now 133 
 
 Unconquered 135 
 
 All That Love Asks 136 
 
 Does It Pay? 138 
 
 Sestina 139 
 
 The Optimist 141 
 
 The Pessimist 141 
 
 An Aspiration 142 
 
 Life's Harmonies 144 
 
 Preparation 145 
 
 Gethsemane 147 
 
 God's Measure 149 
 
 Noblesse Oblige 150 
 
 A Domestic Conversation 151 
 
THE MEETING OF THE CENTURIES. 
 
 A CURIOUS vision, on mine eyes unfurled 
 In the deep night. I saw, or seemed to see, 
 Two Centuries meet, and sit down vis-a-vis, 
 Across the great round table of the world. 
 One with suggested sorrows in his mien 
 
 And on his brow the furrowed lines of thought. 
 And one whose glad expectant presence brought 
 A glow and radiance from the realms unseen. 
 
 Hand clasped with hand, in silence for a space, 
 The Centuries sat; the sad old eyes of one 
 (As grave paternal eyes regard a son) 
 
 Gazing upon that other eager face. 
 
 And then a voice, as cadenceless and gray 
 As the sea's monody in winter time, 
 Mingled with tones melodious, as the chime 
 
 Of bird choirs, singing in the dawns of May. 
 
 THE OLD CENTURY iPEAKi: 
 
 By you, Hope stands. With me, Experience walks. 
 
 Like a fair jewel in a faded box, 
 
 In my tear-rusted heart, sweet pity lies. 
 
 For all the dreams that look forth from your eyes, 
 
 9 
 
 J 
 
10 POEMS OF POWER. 
 
 And those bright-hued ambitions, which 1 know 
 Must fall like leaves and perish in Time's snow, 
 (Even as my soul's garden stands bereft,) 
 I give you pity! 'tis the one gift left. 
 
 THE, NEW CENTURY: 
 
 Nay, nay, good friend! not pity, but Godspeed, 
 Here in the morning of my life 1 need. 
 Counsel, and not condolence ; smiles, not tears, 
 To guide me through the channels of the years. 
 Oh, I am blinded by the blaze of light 
 That shines upon me from the Infinite. 
 Blurred is my vision by the close approach 
 To unseen shores, whereon the times encroach. 
 
 THE OLD CENTUKY: 
 
 Illusion, all illusion. List and hear 
 The Godless cannons, booming far and near. 
 Flaunting the flag of Unbelief, with Greed 
 For pilot, lo ! the pirate age in speed 
 Bears on to ruin. War's most hideous crimes 
 Besmirch the record of these modern times. 
 Degenerate is the world I leave to you, — 
 My happiest speech to earth will be — adieu. 
 
 THE NEW CENTURY: 
 
 You speak as one too weary to be just. 
 I hear the guns — I see the greed and lust. 
 The death throes of a giant evil fill 
 
POEMS OF POWER. 11 
 
 The air with riot and confusion. Ill 
 Of ttimes makes fallow ground for Good ; and Wrong 
 Builds Right's foundation, when it grows too strong. 
 Pregnant with promise is the hour, and grand 
 The trust you leave in my all-willing hand. 
 
 THE OLD CENTURY: 
 
 As one who throws a flickering taper's ray 
 To light departing feet, my shadowed way 
 You brighten with your faith. Faith makes the man. 
 Alas, that my poor foolish age outran 
 Its early trust in God. The death of art 
 And progress follows, when the world's hard heart 
 Casts out religion. 'Tis the human brain 
 Men worship now, and heaven, to them, means — 
 gain. 
 
 THE, NEW CENTUR.Y: 
 
 Faith is not dead, tho' priest and creed may pass, 
 For thought has leavened the whole unthinking 
 
 mass. 
 And man looks now to find the God within. 
 We shall talk more of love, and less of sin, 
 In this new era. We are drawing near 
 Unatlassed boundaries of a larger sphere. 
 With awe, I wait, till Science leads us on, 
 Into the full effulgence of its dawn. 
 
12 POEMS OF POWER. 
 
 \ 
 
 DEATH HAS CROWNED HIM A MARTYR. 
 
 (Written on the day of President McKinley's death.) 
 
 N the midst of sunny waters, lo! the mighty Ship 
 of State 
 
 Staggers, bruised and torn and wounded by a dere- 
 lict of fate. 
 One that drifted from its moorings in the anchorage 
 of hate. 
 
 On the deck our noble Pilot, in the glory of his 
 
 prime, 
 Lies in woe-impelling silence, dead before his hour 
 
 or time, 
 Victim of a mind self-centered in a Godless fool of 
 
 crime. 
 
 One of earth's dissension-breeders, one of Hate's 
 
 unreasoning tools 
 In the annals of the ages, when the world's hot 
 
 anger cools, 
 He who sought for Crime's distinction shall be 
 
 known as Chief of Fools. 
 
 In the annals of the ages, he who had no thought 
 
 of fame 
 (Keeping on the path of duty, caring not for praise 
 
 or blame), 
 
POEMS OF POWER. 13 
 
 Close beside the deathless Lincoln, writ in light, 
 will shine his name. 
 
 Youth proclaimed him as a hero ; time, a statesman ; 
 
 love, a man; 
 Death has crowned him as a martyr, so from goal 
 
 to goal he ran, 
 Knowing all the sum of glory that a human life 
 
 may span. 
 
 He was chosen by the people; not an accident of 
 
 birth 
 Made him ruler of a nation, but his own intrinsic 
 
 worth. 
 Fools may govern over kingdoms — not republics of 
 
 the earth. 
 
 He has raised the lovers' standard by his loyalty 
 
 and faith, 
 He has shown how virile manhood may keep free 
 
 from scandal's breath. 
 He has gazed, with trust unshaken, in the awful 
 
 eyes of death. 
 
 In the mighty march of progress he has sought to 
 
 do his best. 
 Let his enemies be silent, as we lay him down to 
 
 rest, 
 And may God assuage the anguish of one suffering 
 
 woman's breast. 
 
14 POEMS OF POWER. 
 
 GRIEF. 
 
 AS the funeral train with its honored dead 
 /-\ On its mournful way went sweeping, 
 While a sorrowful nation bowed its head 
 
 And the whole world joined in weeping, 
 I thought, as I looked on the solemn sight, 
 
 Of the one fond heart despairing, 
 And I said to myself, as in truth I might, 
 
 41 How sad must be this sharing" 
 
 To share the living with even Fame, 
 
 For a heart that is only human, 
 Is hard, when Glory asserts her claim 
 
 Like a bold, insistent woman; 
 Yet a great, grand passion can put aside 
 
 Or stay each selfish emotion, 
 And watch, with a pleasure that springs from pride, 
 
 Its rival — the world's devotion. 
 
 But Death should render to love its own, 
 
 And my heart bowed down and sorrowed 
 For the stricken woman who wept alone 
 
 While even her dead was borrowed ; 
 Borrowed from her, the bride — the wife — 
 
 For the world's last martial honor, 
 As she sat in the gloom of her darkened life, 
 
 With her widow's grief fresh upon her. 
 
POEMS OF POWER. 15 
 
 He had shed the glory of Love and Fame 
 
 In a golden halo about her ; 
 She had shared his triumphs and worn his name: 
 
 But, alas! he had died without her. 
 He had wandered in many a distant realm, 
 
 And never had left her behind him ; 
 But now, with a spectral shape at the helm, 
 
 He had sailed where she could not find him. 
 
 It was only a thought, that came that day 
 
 In the midst of the muffled drumming 
 And funeral music and sad display, 
 
 That I knew was right and becoming; 
 Only a thought as the mourning train 
 
 Moved, column after column, 
 Bearing the dead to the burial plain 
 
 With a reverence grand as solemn. 
 
16 POEMS OF POWER. 
 
 SPEECH- 
 
 TALK happiness. The world is sad enough 
 Without your woe. No path is wholly rough. 
 Look for the places that are smooth and clear, 
 And speak of them to rest the weary ear 
 Of earth ; so hurt by one continuous strain 
 Of mortal discontent and grief and pain. 
 
 Talk faith. The world is better off without 
 
 Your uttered ignorance and morbid doubt. 
 
 If you have faith in God, or man, or self, 
 
 Say so ; if not, push back upon the shelf 
 
 Of silence, all your thoughts till faith shall come. 
 
 No one will grieve because your lips are dumb. 
 
 Talk health. The dreary, never-ending tale 
 
 Of mortal maladies is worn and stale ; 
 
 You cannot charm or interest or please 
 
 By harping on that minor chord, disease. 
 
 Say you are well, or all is well with you, 
 
 And God shall hear your words and make them true. 
 
POEMS OF POWER, 17 
 
 ILLUSION. 
 
 OOD and I in space alone 
 And nobody else in view. 
 44 And where are the people, O! Lord," I said, 
 "The earth below, and the sky o'er head 
 And the dead whom once I knew?" 
 
 "That was a dream," God smiled and said, 
 
 " A dream that seemed to be true. 
 There were no people, living or dead, 
 There was no earth, and no sky o'er head 
 
 There was only myself — in you." 
 
 "Why do I feel no fear," I asked, 
 
 "Meeting you here this way, 
 For I have sinned I know full well, 
 And is there heaven, and is there hell, 
 
 And is this the judgment day?" 
 
 "Say, those were but dreams," the Great God said, 
 
 "Dreams, that have ceased to be. 
 There are no such things as fear or sin, 
 There is no you — you never have been — 
 
 There is nothing at all but Me" 
 
18 POEMS OF POWER, 
 
 I 
 
 ASSERTION. 
 
 AM serenity. Though passions beat 
 Like mighty billows on my helpless heart, 
 I know beyond them, lies the perfect sweet 
 
 Serenity, which patience can impart. 
 And when wild tempests in my bosom rage, 
 "Peace, peace," I cry, "it is my heritage." 
 
 I am good health. Though fevers rack my brain 
 And rude disorders mutilate my strength, 
 
 A perfect restoration after pain, 
 
 I know shall be my recompense at length, 
 
 And so through grievous day and sleepless night 
 
 "Health, health," I cry, "it is my own by right." 
 
 I am success. Though hungry, cold, ill-clad, 
 I wander for awhile, I smile and say, 
 
 "It is but for a time — I shall be glad 
 To-morrow, for good fortune comes my way. 
 
 God is my father, He has wealth untold, 
 
 His wealth is mine, health, happiness and gold." 
 
POEMS OF POWER. 19 
 
 THE QUEEN'S LAST RIDE. 
 
 (Written on the day of Queen Victoria's funeral ceremonies 
 in London.) 
 
 THE Queen is taking a drive to-day, 
 They have hung with purple the carriage-way, 
 They have dressed with purple the royal track 
 Where the Queen goes forth and never comes back. 
 
 Let no man labour as she goes by 
 On her last appearance to mortal eye, 
 With heads uncovered let all men wait 
 For the Queen to pass, in her regal state. 
 
 Army and Navy shall lead the way 
 
 For that wonderful coach of the Queen's to-day. 
 
 Kings and Princes and Lords of the land 
 
 Shall ride behind her, a humble band, 
 
 And over the city and over the world 
 
 Shall the Flags of all Nations be half-mast-furled, 
 
 For the silent lady of royal birth 
 
 Who is riding away from the Courts of earth ; 
 
 Riding away from the world's unrest 
 
 To a mystical goal, on a secret quest. 
 
 Tho' in royal splendour she drives through town, 
 Her robes are simple, she wears no crown : 
 
20 POEMS OF POWER. 
 
 And yet she wears one, for widowed no more, 
 She is crowned with the love that has gone before, 
 And crowned with the love she has left behind 
 In the hidden depths of each mourner's mind. 
 
 Bow low your heads— lift your hearts on high — 
 The Queen in silence is driving by! 
 
POEMS OF POWER, 21 
 
 I 
 
 I AM. 
 
 KNOW not whence I came 
 
 I know not whither I go; 
 But the fact stands clear that I am here 
 
 In this world of pleasure and woe. 
 And out of the mist and murk 
 
 Another truth shines plain — 
 It is my power each day and hour 
 
 To add to its joy or its pain. 
 
 I know that the earth exists, 
 
 It is none of my business why; 
 I cannot find out what it's all about, 
 
 I would but waste time to try. 
 My life is a brief, brief thing, 
 
 1 am here for a little space, 
 And while I stay I would like, if I may, 
 
 To brighten and better the place. 
 
 The trouble, I think, with us all 
 
 Is the lack of a high conceit. 
 If each man thought he was sent to this spot 
 
 To make it a bit more sweet, 
 How soon we could gladden the world, 
 
 How easily right all wrong, 
 
22 POEMS OF POWER, 
 
 If nobody shirked, and each one worked 
 To help his fellows along. 
 
 Cease wondering why you came — 
 
 Stop looking for faults and flaws. 
 Rise up to-day in your pride and say, 
 
 "I am part of the First Great Cause! 
 However full the world, 
 
 There is room for an earnest man. 
 It had need of me or I would not be — 
 
 I am here to strengthen the plan. " 
 
POEMS OF POWER. 23 
 
 WOMAN AND WAR. 
 
 WE women teach our little sons how wrong 
 And how ignoble blows are; school and 
 church 
 Support our precepts, and inoculate 
 The growing minds with thoughts of love and peace. 
 "Let dogs delight to bark and bite," we say; 
 But human beings with immortal souls 
 Must rise above the methods of a brute, 
 And walk with reason and with self-control. 
 
 And then — dear God! you men, you wise, strong 
 
 men, 
 Our self-announced superiors in brain, 
 Our peers in judgment, you go forth to war! 
 You leap at one another, mutilate 
 And starve and kill your fellow-men, and ask 
 The world's applause for such heroic deeds. 
 You boast and strut ; and if no song is sung, 
 No laudatory epic writ in blood, 
 Telling how many widows you have made, 
 Why then, perforce, you say our bards are dead 
 And inspiration sleeps to wake no more. 
 And we, the women, we whose lives you are — 
 
 What can we do but sit in silent homes, 
 And wait and suffer? Not for us the blare 
 
24 POEMS OF POWER. 
 
 Of trumpets and the bugle's call to arms — 
 For us no waving banners, no supreme 
 Triumphant hour of conquest. Ours the slow 
 Dread torture of uncertainty, each day 
 The bootless battle with the same despair, 
 And when at best your victories reach our ears, 
 There reaches with them, to our pitying hearts, 
 The thought of countless homes made desolate, 
 And other women weeping for their dead. 
 
 O men, wise men, superior beings, say, 
 Is there no substitute for war in this 
 Great age and era! If you answer "No," 
 Then let us rear our children to be wolves, 
 And teach them from the cradle how to kill. 
 Why should we women waste our time and words 
 In talking peace, when men declare for war? 
 
POEMS OF POWER. 25 
 
 A FALLEN LEAF. 
 
 A TRUSTING little leaf of green, 
 A bold, audacious frost; 
 A rendezvous, a kiss or two 
 And youth forever lost. 
 
 Ah, me! 
 The bitter, bitter cost. 
 
 A flaunting patch of vivid red, 
 
 That quivers in the sun ; 
 A windy gust, a grave of dust, 
 
 The little race is run. 
 Ah, me! 
 
 Were that the only one. 
 
POEMS OF POWER, 
 
 A 
 
 'THIS TOO SHALL PASS AWAY." 
 
 MIGHTY monarch in the days of old 
 Made offer of high honour, wealth and gold, 
 
 To one who should produce in form concise 
 A motto for his guidance, terse yet wise — 
 
 A precept, soothing in his hours forlorn, 
 
 Yet one that in his prosperous days would warn. 
 
 Many the maxims sent the king, men say. 
 The one he chose : "This too shall pass away.' 1 
 
 Oh, jewel sentence from the mine of truth! 
 What riches it contains for age or youth. 
 
 No stately epic, measured and sublime, 
 So comforts, or so counsels, for all time 
 
 As these few words. Go write them on your heart 
 And make them of your daily life a part. 
 
 Has some misfortune fallen to your lot? 
 This too will pass away — absorb the thought, 
 
 And wait; your waiting will not be in vain, 
 Time gilds with gold the iron links of pain. 
 
POEMS OF POWER. 27 
 
 The dark to-day leads into light to-morrow; 
 There is no endless joy, no endless sorrow. 
 
 Are you upon earth's heights? No cloud in view? 
 Go read your motto once again : This too 
 
 Shall pass away ; fame, glory, place and power, 
 They are but little baubles of the hour, 
 
 Flung by the ruthless years down in the dust. 
 Take warning and be worthy of God's trust. 
 
 Use well your prowess while it lasts; leave bloom, 
 Not blight, to mark your footprints to the tomb. 
 
 The truest greatness lies in being kind, 
 The truest wisdom in a happy mind. 
 
 He who desponds, his Maker's judgment mocks; 
 The gloomy Christian is a paradox. 
 
 Only the sunny soul respects its God. 
 
 Since life is short we need to make it broad; 
 
 Since life is brief we need to make it bright. 
 Then keep the old king's motto well in sight, 
 
 And let its meaning permeate each day. 
 Whatever comes, This too shall pass away. 
 
28 POEMS OF POWER. 
 
 SUCCESS. 
 
 NO mortal yet has measured his full force. 
 It is a river rising in God's thought 
 And emptying in the soul of man. Go back, 
 Back to the Source, and find divinity. 
 Forget the narrow borders, and ignore 
 The rocks and chasms which obstruct the way. 
 Remember the beginning. Man may be 
 And do the thing he wishes if he keeps 
 That one thought dominant through night and day, 
 And knows his strength is limitless because 
 Its Fountainhead is God. That mighty stream 
 Shall bear upon its breast, like golden fleets, 
 His hopes, his efforts and his purposes, 
 To anchor in the harbor of Success. 
 
POEMS OF POWER. 
 
 RECRIMINATION. 
 I. 
 
 f*AID Life to Death, "Methinks if I were you 
 \J I would not carry such an awesome face 
 To terrify the helpless human race. 
 And if, indeed, those wondrous tales be true 
 Of happiness beyond, and if I knew 
 About the boasted blessings of that place, 
 I would not hide so miserly all trace 
 Of my vast knowledge, Death, if I were you. 
 But like a glorious angel I would lean 
 Above the pathway of each sorrowing soul, 
 Hope in my eyes, and comfort in my breath, 
 And strong conviction in my radiant mien, 
 The while I whispered of that beauteous goal. 
 This would I do, if I were you, O Death!" 
 
 II. 
 
 Said Death to Life, "If I were you, my friend, 
 1 would not lure confiding souls each day 
 With fair false smiles, to enter on a way 
 So filled with pain and trouble to the end. 
 I would not tempt those whom I should defend, 
 Nor stand unmoved and see them go astray. 
 Nor would I force unwilling souls to stay 
 
30 POEMS OF POWER, 
 
 Who longed for freedom, were I you, my friend. 
 But like a tender mother I would take 
 The weary world upon my sheltering breast 
 And wipe away its tears, and soothe its strife. 
 I would fulfill my promises, and make 
 My children bless me as they sank to rest, 
 Where now they curse— if I were you, O Life!" 
 
 III. 
 
 Life made no answer; and Death spoke again: 
 
 t4 I would not woo from God's sweet nothingness 
 
 A soul to being, if I could not bless 
 
 And crown it with all joy. If unto men 
 
 My face seems awesome, tell me, Life, why then 
 
 Do they pursue me, mad for my caress, 
 
 Believing in my silence lies redress 
 
 For your loud falsehoods? (So Death spoke again.) 
 
 Oh, it is well for you I am not fair, 
 
 Well that I hide behind a voiceless tomb 
 
 The mighty secrets of that other place. 
 
 Else would you stand in impotent despair 
 
 While unfledged souls straight from the mother 
 
 womb 
 Rushed to my arms, and spat upon your face." 
 
POEMS OF POWER, 31 
 
 THREEFOLD. 
 I. 
 
 OUR love wakes with the morning, unafraid 
 To meet the little worries of the day. 
 And if a haggard dawn, dull eyed and gray, 
 Peers in upon us through the window shade, 
 Full soon love's finger, rosy tipped, is laid 
 Upon its brow, and gloom departs straightway. 
 All outer darkness melts before that ray 
 Of inner light, whereof our love is made, 
 Each petty trouble and each pigmy care 
 And those gaunt visaged duties which so fill 
 Life's path by day, do borrow of love's grace. 
 Though he be dear alway, and debonaire 
 In the bright morning best he proves his skill 
 Lending his lustre to the Commonplace. 
 
 II. 
 
 Our love looks boldly in the moon's bold eyes. 
 He has no thing to hide, no thing to fear. 
 And if the world stands far or hurtles near 
 He walks alway, serene, without disguise, 
 Naked and not ashamed beneath the skies. 
 He does not need dark backgrounds to appear 
 Radiant, for even through the broad day's clear 
 
32 POEMS OF POWER, 
 
 Effulgence his supernal beauties rise. 
 Oh, there be loves that hide till day is done: 
 Nocturnal loves, like silent birds of prey: 
 Secretive loves that do not dare rejoice. 
 Ours is an eagle that can face the sun. 
 A wholesome love that glories in the day, 
 And finds a rapture in its own glad voice. 
 
 III. 
 
 Our love augments in beauty when the night 
 Shuts in our world between four sheltering walls. 
 Fair is the day and yet its splendor palls. 
 Dear are the shadows that obscure the light, 
 And dear the stars that tiptoe into sight, 
 And when the curtain of deep darkness falls 
 Then heart to heart in clearer accent calls 
 And the whole Universe is Love's by right. 
 There is no vexing world to interfere, 
 No sorrow save the all too rapid flow 
 Of time's swift river sweeping on and on. 
 We two are masters of this silent sphere. 
 Love is the only duty that we know — 
 Our only fear, the menace of the dawn. 
 
POEMS OF POWER. 33 
 
 WISHING. 
 
 DO you wish the world were better? 
 Let me tell you what to do. 
 Set a watch upon your actions, 
 
 Keep them always straight and true. 
 Rid your mind of selfish motives, 
 
 Let your thoughts be clean and high. 
 You can make a little Eden 
 Of the sphere you occupy. 
 
 Do you wish the world were wiser? 
 
 Well, suppose you make a start, 
 By accumulating wisdom 
 
 In the scrapbook of your heart; 
 Do not waste one page on folly ; 
 
 Live to learn, and learn to live. 
 If you want to give men knowledge 
 
 You must get it, ere you give. 
 
 Do you wish the world were happy? 
 
 Then remember day by day 
 Just to scatter seeds of kindness 
 
 As you pass along the way, 
 For the pleasures of the many 
 
 May be ofttimes traced to one, 
 As the hand that plants an acorn 
 
 Shelters armies from the sun. 
 
 9 
 
34 POEMS OF POWER. 
 
 WE TWO. 
 
 WE two make home of any place we go; 
 We two find joy in any kind of weather; 
 Or if the earth is clothed in bloom or snow, 
 If summer days invite, or bleak winds blow, 
 What matters it if we two are together? 
 We two, we two, we make our world, our weather. 
 
 We two make banquets of the plainest fare; 
 
 In every cup we find the thrill of pleasure; 
 We hide with wreaths the furrowed brow of care 
 And win to smiles the set lips of despair. 
 
 For us life always moves with lilting measure; 
 
 We two, we two, we make our world, our pleasure. 
 
 We two find youth renewed with every dawn ; 
 
 Each day holds something of an unknown glory. 
 We waste no thought on grief or pleasure gone ; - 
 Tricked out like hope, time leads us on and on, 
 
 And thrums upon his harp new song or story. 
 
 We two, we two, we find the paths of glory. 
 
 We two make heaven here on this little earth; 
 
 We do not need to wait for realms eternal. 
 We know the use of tears, know sorrow's worth, 
 And pain for us is always love's rebirth. 
 
 Our paths lead closely by the paths supernal; 
 
 We two, we two, we live in love eternal. 
 
w 
 
 POEMS OF PO WER. 35 
 
 THE POET'S THEME. 
 
 "What is the explanation of the strange silence 
 of American poets concerning America's tri- 
 umphs on sea and land?" — Literary Digest. 
 
 HY should the poet of these pregnant times 
 Be asked to sing of war's unholy crimes? 
 
 To laud and eulogize the trade which thrives 
 On horrid holocausts of human lives. 
 
 Man was a fighting beast when earth was young 
 And war the only theme when Homer sung. 
 
 'Twixt might and might the equal contest lay; 
 Not so the battles of our modern day. 
 
 Too often now the conquering hero struts 
 A Gulliver among the Liliputs. 
 
 Success no longer rests on skill or fate 
 But on the movements of a syndicate. 
 
 Of old men fought and deemed it right and just. 
 To-day the warrior fights because he must, 
 
 And in his secret soul feels shame because 
 He desecrates the higher manhood's laws. 
 
 Oh, there are worthier themes for poet's pen 
 In this great hour, than bloody deeds of men 
 
36 POEMS OF POWER. 
 
 Or triumphs of one hero (though he be 
 Deserving song for his humility). 
 
 The rights of many — not the worth of one — 
 The coming issues, not the battle done, 
 
 The awful opulence, and awful need — 
 The rise of brotherhood — the fall of greed. 
 
 The soul of man replete with God's own force, 
 The call "to heights" and not the cry, "to horse" — 
 
 Are there not better themes in this great age 
 For pen of poet, or for voice of sage 
 
 Than those old tales of killing? Song is dumb 
 Only that greater song in time may come. 
 
 When comes the bard, he whom the world waits for, 
 He will not sing of War. 
 
POEMS OF POWER. 37 
 
 LOVE IS ALL! 
 
 LET Labor boldly walk abroad 
 And take its place with kings, 
 For who has labored more than God, 
 The maker of all things? 
 
 The time has come, aye, even now it is, 
 
 To rank that parable in Genesis 
 
 Of God's great curse of labor placed on man, 
 
 With other fairy tales. Why, He began 
 
 All work Himself! He was so full of force 
 
 He flung the solar systems on their course 
 
 And builded worlds on worlds; and, not content, 
 
 He labors still: when mighty suns are spent, 
 
 He forges on His white-hot anvil — space — 
 
 New stars to tell His glory and His grace. 
 
 Who most achieves is most like God, I hold ; 
 The idler is the black sheep in the fold. 
 
 Not for the hardened toiler with the hoe 
 My tears of sorrow and compassion flow. 
 Though he be dull, unlettered and not fair 
 To look upon ; tho' he is bowed with care, 
 Yet in his heart if dear love fold its wings, 
 He stands a monarch over unloved kings. 
 
38 POEMS OF POWER. 
 
 One sorrow only in God's world has birth — 
 To live unloving and unloved on earth ; 
 One joy alone makes life a part of heaven — 
 The joy of happy love, received and given. 
 
 Down through the chaos of our human laws 
 Love shines supreme, the great Eternal Cause. 
 God loved so much His thoughts burst into flame, 
 And from that sacred source Creation came. 
 The heart which feels this holy light within 
 Finds God and man and beast and bird its kin. 
 All class distinctions fade and disappear. 
 Death is new life, and heaven he sees a-near. 
 Brother is he to "ox" and "seraphim," 
 "Slave to the wheel," mayhap, yet kings to him, 
 And millionaires, seem paupers, if from them 
 Life has withheld its luminous great gem. 
 Or if his badge be sceptre, hoe or hod, 
 That man is king who knows that love is God. 
 
POEMS OF POWER. 39 
 
 SONG OF THE SPIRIT. 
 
 ALL the aim of life is just 
 Getting back to God. 
 Spirit casting off its dust, 
 
 Getting back to God. 
 Every grief we have to bear, 
 Disappointment, cross, despair, 
 Each is but another stair 
 Climbing back to God. 
 
 Step by step and mile by mile, — 
 
 Getting back to God. 
 Nothing else is worth the while — 
 
 Getting back to God. 
 Light and shadow fill each day, 
 Joys and sorrows pass away, 
 Smile at all, and smiling, say, 
 
 Getting back to God. 
 
 Do not wear a mournful face 
 
 Getting back to God. 
 Scatter sunshine on the place 
 
 Going back to God. 
 Take what pleasure you can find, 
 But where'er your paths may wind, 
 Keep the purpose well in mind, — 
 
 Getting back to God, 
 
40 POEMS OF POWER. 
 
 WOMANHOOD. 
 
 f HE must be honest, both in thought and deed, 
 ^J Of generous impulse, and above all greed; 
 Not seeking praise, or place, or power, or pelf, 
 But life's best blessings for her higher self, 
 Which means the best for all. 
 
 She must have faith, 
 To make good friends of Trouble, Pain and Death, 
 And understand their Message. 
 
 She should be 
 As redolent with tender sympathy 
 As is a rose with fragrance. 
 
 Cheerfulness 
 Should be her mantle, even tho' her dress 
 May be of Sorrow's weaving. 
 
 On her face 
 A loyal nature leaves its seal of grace, 
 And chastity is in her atmosphere. 
 Not that chill chastity which seems austere — 
 (Like untrod snow peaks, lovely to behold 
 Till ©nee attained — then barren, loveless, cold). 
 But the white flame that feeds upon the soul 
 And lights the pathway to a peaceful goal. 
 A sense of humor, and a touch of mirth, 
 To brighten up the shadowy spots of earth ; 
 And pride that passes evil — choosing good. 
 All these unite in perfect womanhood. 
 
POEMS OF POWER, 41 
 
 
 MORNING PRAYER. 
 
 LET me to-day do something that shall take 
 A little sadness from the world's vast store, 
 And may I be so favored as to make 
 
 Of joy's too scanty sum a little more. 
 Let me not hurt, by any selfish deed 
 
 Or thoughtless word, the heart of foe or friend; 
 Nor would 1 pass, unseeing, worthy need, 
 
 Or sin by silence when I should defend. 
 However meager be my worldly wealth 
 
 Let me give something that shall aid my kind, 
 A word of courage, or a thought of health, 
 
 Dropped as 1 pass for troubled hearts to find. 
 Let me to-night look back across the span 
 
 'Twixt dawn and dark, and to my conscience 
 say — 
 Because of some good act to beast or man — 
 
 4 'The world is better that I lived to-day." 
 
42 POEMS OF POWER. 
 
 THE VOICES OF THE PEOPLE. 
 
 OH, I hear the people calling through the day 
 time and the night time, 
 They are calling, they are crying for the coming of 
 
 the right time. 
 It behooves you, men and women, it behooves you 
 
 to be heeding, 
 For there lurks a note of menace underneath their 
 plaintive pleading. 
 
 Let the land usurpers listen, let the greedy-hearted 
 ponder, 
 
 On the meaning of the murmur, rising here and 
 swelling yonder, 
 
 Swelling louder, waxing stronger, like a storm-fed 
 stream that courses 
 
 Through the valleys, down abysses, growing, gain- 
 ing with new forces. 
 
 Day by day the river widens, that great river of 
 
 opinion, 
 And its torrent beats and plunges at the base of 
 
 greed's dominion. 
 Though you dam it by oppression and fling golden 
 
 bridges o'er it, 
 Yet the day and hour advances when in fright you 
 
 flee before it. 
 
POEMS OF PO WER. 43 
 
 Yes, I hear the people calling, through the night 
 
 time and the day time, 
 Wretched toilers in life's autumn, weary young ones 
 
 in life's May time — 
 They are crying, they are calling for their share of 
 
 work and pleasure, 
 You are heaping high your coffers while you give 
 
 them scanty measure, 
 You have stolen God's wide acres, just to glut your 
 
 swollen purses — 
 Oh, restore them to His children ere their pleading 
 
 turns to curses. 
 
44 POEMS OF PO WER. 
 
 THE WORLD GROWS BETTER. 
 
 OH, the earth is full of sinning 
 And of trouble and of woe, 
 But the devil makes an inning 
 
 Every time we say it's so. 
 And the way to set him scowling, 
 
 And to put him back a pace, 
 Is to stop this stupid growling, 
 And to look things in the face. 
 
 If you glance at history's pages, 
 
 In all lands and eras known, 
 You will find the buried ages 
 
 Far more wicked than our own. 
 As you scan each word and letter, 
 
 You will realize it more, 
 That the world to-day is better, 
 
 Than it ever was before. 
 
 There is much that needs amending 
 
 In the present time, no doubt, 
 There is right that needs amending, 
 
 There is wrong needs crushing out. 
 And we hear the groans and curses 
 
 Of the poor who starve and die 
 While the men with swollen purses 
 
 In the place of hearts, go by. 
 
POEMS OF POWER. 45 
 
 But in spite of all the trouble 
 
 That obscures the sun to-day 
 Just remember it was double, 
 
 In the ages passed away. 
 And those wrongs shall all be righted. 
 
 Good shall dominate the land, 
 For the darkness now is lighted 
 
 By the torch in Science's hand. 
 
 Forth from little motes in Chaos, 
 
 We have come to what we are, 
 And no evil force can stay us, 
 
 We shall mount from star to star, 
 We shall break each bond and fetter 
 
 That has bound us heretofore, 
 And the earth is surely better, 
 
 Than it ever was before. 
 
46 POEMS OF POWER. 
 
 THE BED. 
 
 A HARSH and homely monosyllable, 
 Abrupt and musicless, and at its best 
 An inartistic object to the eye, 
 Yet in this brief and troubled life of man 
 How full of majesty the part it plays! 
 It is the cradle which receives the soul, 
 Naked and wailing, from the Maker's hand. 
 It is the throne of Love's enlightenment; 
 And when death offers back to God again 
 The borrowed spirit, this the holy shrine 
 From which the hills delectable are seen. 
 Through all the anxious journey to that goal 
 It is man's friend, physician, comforter. 
 When labor wearies, and when pleasure palls, 
 And the tired heart lets faith slip from its grasp, 
 'Tis here new courage and new strength are found, 
 While doubt and darkness change to hope and light. 
 It is the common ground between two spheres 
 Where man and angels meet and converse hold, 
 It is the confidant of hidden woe 
 Masked from the world beneath a smiling brow. 
 Into its silent breast young wakeful joy 
 Whispers its secret through the starlit hours, 
 And like a white-robed priestess, oft it hears 
 
POEMS OF POWER. 47 
 
 The wild confession of a crime-stained soul 
 That looks unflinching in the eyes of men. 
 A common word, a thing unbeautiful, 
 Yet in this brief, eventful life of man 
 How large and varied is the part it plays. 
 
48 POEMS OF POWER, 
 
 DISCONTENT. 
 
 THE splendid discontent of God 
 With chaos made the world. 
 Set suns in place, and filled all space 
 With stars that shone and whirled. 
 
 If apes had been content with tails, 
 
 No thing of higher shape 
 Had come to birth : the king of earth 
 
 To-day would be an ape. 
 
 And from the discontent of man 
 The world's best progress springs. 
 
 Then feed the flame (from God it came), 
 Until you mount on wings. 
 
.POEMS OF POWER. 49 
 
 A MAN'S IDEAL. 
 
 A LOVELY little keeper of the home, 
 Absorbed in menu books, yet erudite 
 When I need counsel ; quick at repartee 
 And slow to anger. Modest as a flower 
 Yet scintillant and radiant as a star. 
 Unmercenary in her mould of mind, 
 While opulent and dainty in her tastes. 
 A nature generous and free, albeit 
 The incarnation of economy. 
 She must be chaste as proud Diana was, 
 Yet warm as Venus. To all others cold 
 As some white glacier glittering in the sun; 
 To me as ardent as the sensuous rose 
 That yields its sweetness to the burrowing bee. 
 All ignorant of evil in the world, 
 And innocent as any cloistered nun, 
 Yet wise as Phrynne in the arts of love 
 When I come thirsting to her nectared lips. 
 Good as the best, and tempting as the worst, 
 A saint, a siren, and a paradox. 
 
50 POEMS OF POWER. 
 
 WAR SONNETS. 
 I. 
 
 WAR is destructive, wasteful, brutal, yet 
 The energies of men are brought to play, 
 And hidden valor by occasion met 
 
 Leaps to the light, as precious jewels may 
 When earthquakes rend the rock. The stress and 
 strain 
 
 Of war stirs men to do their worst and best. 
 Heroes are forged on anvils hot with pain 
 
 And splendid courage comes but with the test 
 Some natures ripen and some virtues bloom 
 
 Only in blood-red soil; some souls prove great 
 Only in moments dark with death or doom. 
 
 This is the sad historic jest which fate 
 Flings to the world, recurring time on time. 
 Many must fall that one may seem sublime.. 
 
 II. 
 
 Above the chaos of impending ills, 
 
 Through all the clamor of insistent strife, 
 
 Now while the noise of warring nations fills 
 Each throbbing hour with menaces to life, 
 
 I hear the voice of Progress! Strange indeed 
 The shadowed pathways that lead up to light. 
 
 But as a runner sometimes will recede 
 
POEMS OF PO WER. 61 
 
 That he may so accumulate his might, 
 Then with a will that needs must be obeyed 
 
 Rushes resistless to the goal with ease, 
 So the whole world seems now to retrograde, 
 
 Slips back to war, that it may speed to peace. 
 And in that backward step it gathers force 
 For the triumphant finish of its course. 
 
52 POEMS OF POWER. 
 
 MY LAUNCH AND I. 
 
 WHAT glorious times we have together, 
 My launch and I, in the summer weather! 
 My trim little launch with its sturdy sides 
 And its strong heart beating away as it glides 
 Out of the harbor and out of the bay, 
 Wherever our fancy may lead away, 
 Rollicking over the salt sea track 
 Hurrying seaward and hurrying back. 
 
 My boat has never a braggart sail, 
 
 To boast in the breeze, in the calm to quail, 
 
 No tyrant boom deals a sudden blow, 
 
 Saying, "You are my lackey, bend low, bend low !" 
 
 No mast struts over a windless sea 
 
 To show how powerless pride may be. 
 
 But sure and steady and true and staunch 
 
 It bounds o'er the billows, — my little launch. 
 
 Ready and willing and quick to feel 
 The slightest touch of my hand on the wheel 
 It laughs in the teeth of a driving gale, 
 Or skims by the cat-boat's drooping sail. 
 Its head held high when the Sound is still, 
 Then dipping its prow like a water bird's bill 
 
POEMS OF POWER. 53 
 
 Down under the waves of a rolling sea — 
 Oh, my gay little launch is the boat for me! 
 
 Ofttimes when the great Sound seethes and swirls 
 I carry a cargo of laughing girls. 
 Bare-armed, bare-limbed, and with hanging bair 
 They are bold as mermaids and twice as fair. 
 They swarm from the cabin, — they perch on the 
 
 prow. 
 When the tenth wave batters them, breast and brow, 
 They bloom the brighter, as sea flowers do 
 While their shrill, sweet merriment bursts anew. 
 
 And oft when the sunset dyes the bay 
 O'er a mirror-like surface, we glide away, 
 My launch and I, to follow the breeze 
 That has jilted the shore for the deeper seas. 
 When the full moon flirts with the perigee tide 
 On a track of silver, away we ride — 
 Oh, glorious times we have together, 
 My boat and I, in the summer weather. 
 
54 POEMS OF POWER. 
 
 THE FIRE BRIGADE. 
 
 HARK ! high o'er the rattle and clamor and clatter 
 Of traffic-filled streets, do you hear that loud 
 noise? 
 And pushing and rushing to see what's the matter, 
 Like herds of wild cattle, go pell mell the boys. 
 
 There's a fire in the city! the engines are coming! 
 The bold bells are clanging, "Make way in the 
 street!" 
 The wheels of the hose-cart are spinning and hum- 
 ming 
 In time to the music of galloping feet. 
 
 Make way there! make way there! the horses are 
 flying, 
 The sparks from their swift, hoofs shoot higher 
 and higher, 
 The crowds are increasing — the gamins are crying : 
 "Hooray, boys!" "Hooray, boys!" "Come on 
 to the fire!" 
 
 With clanging and banging and clatter and rattle, 
 The long ladders follow the engine and hose. 
 
 The men are all ready to dash into battle ; 
 
 But will they come out again? God only knows. 
 
POEMS OF POWER. 55 
 
 At windows and doorways crowd questioning faces; 
 
 There's something about it that quickens one's 
 breath. 
 How proudly the brave fellows sit in their places — 
 
 And speed to the conflict that may be their death. 
 
 Still faster and faster and faster and faster 
 
 The grand horses thunder and leap on their way. 
 
 The red foe is yonder and may prove the master; 
 Turn out there, bold traffic — turn out there, 
 I say! 
 
 For once the loud truckman knows oaths will not 
 matter, 
 And reins in his horses and yields to his fate. 
 The engines are coming ! let pleasure crowds scatter, 
 Let street car and truckman and mail wagon 
 wait. 
 
 They speed like a comet — they pass in a minute, 
 The boys follow on like a tail to a kite ; 
 
 The commonplace street has but traffic now in it, 
 The great fire engines have swept out of sight. 
 
56 POEMS OF POWER. 
 
 PROGRESS. 
 
 IN its giving and its getting, in its smiling and its 
 fretting, 
 In its peaceful years of toiling and its awful days 
 of war, 
 Ever on the world is moving and all human life is 
 proving 
 It is reaching toward the purpose that the great 
 God meant it for. 
 
 Through its laughing and its weeping, through its 
 losing and its keeping, 
 Through its follies and its labors, weaving in 
 and out of sight 
 To the end from the beginning, through all virtue 
 and all sinning 
 Reeled from God's great spool of Progress, runs 
 the golden thread of Right. 
 
 All the darkness and the errors, all the sorrows and 
 the terrors 
 Time has painted in the background on the 
 canvas of the World, 
 All the beauty of life's story he will do in tones of 
 glory 
 When these final blots of shadows from his 
 brushes have been hurled. 
 
POEMS OF POWER. 57 
 
 THE TIDES. 
 
 BE careful what rubbish you toss in the tide. 
 On outgoing billows it drifts from your sight, 
 But back on the incoming waves it may ride 
 
 And land at your threshold again before night. 
 Be careful what rubbish you toss in the tide. 
 
 Be careful what follies you toss in life's sea. 
 
 On bright dancing billows they drift far away, 
 But back on the Nemesis tides they may be 
 
 Thrown down at your threshold unwelcome day. 
 Be careful what follies you toss in youth's sea. 
 
POEMS OF POWER, 
 
 THAT DAY. 
 
 O HEART of mine, through all those perfect 
 days, 
 Whether of white Decembers or green Mays, 
 There runs a dark thought like a creeping snake, 
 Or like a black thread which by some mistake 
 Life has strung through the pearls of happy years, 
 A thought which borders all my joy with tears. 
 
 Some day, some day, or you, or I, alone, 
 
 Must look upon the scenes we two have known, 
 
 Must tread the selfsame paths we two have trod, 
 
 And cry in vain to one who is with God, 
 
 To lean down from the Silent Realms and say: 
 
 "I love you" in the old familiar way. 
 
 Some day— and each day, beauteous though it be, 
 Brings closer that dread hour for you or me. 
 Fleet-footed joy, who hurries time along, 
 Is yet a secret foe who does us wrong ; 
 Speeding us gayly, though he well doth know 
 Of yonder pathway where but one may go. 
 
 Ay, one will go. To go is sweet, I wis — 
 Yet God must needs invent some special bliss 
 To make his Paradise seem very dear 
 
POEMS OF POWER. 
 
 To one who goes and leaves the other here. 
 To sever souls so bound by love and time, 
 For any one but God, would be a crime. 
 
 Yet death will entertain his own, I think. 
 To one who stays life gives the gall to drink; 
 To one who stays, or be it you, or me, 
 There waits the Garden of Gethsemane. 
 Oh, dark, inevitable, and awful day, 
 When one of us must go and one must stay! 
 
60 POEMS OF POWER. 
 
 SO MANY WAYS. 
 
 I. 
 
 II? ARTH has so many ways of being fair: 
 
 I j Its sweet young Spring, its Summer clothed 
 
 in light, 
 Its regal Autumn trailing into sight 
 As Summer wafts her last kiss on the air. 
 Bold virile Winter with the wind-blown hair 
 And the broad beauty of a world in white. 
 Mysterious dawn, high noon, and pensive night, 
 And over all God's great worlds watching there. 
 The voices of the birds at break of day; 
 The smell of young buds bursting on the tree; 
 The soft suggested promises of bliss, 
 Uttered by every subtle voice of May; 
 And the strange wonder of the mighty sea, 
 Lifting its cheek to take the full moon's kiss. 
 
 II. 
 
 Love has so many ways of being sweet. 
 The timorous rose-hued dawning of its reign 
 before the senses waken ; that dear pain 
 Of mingled doubt and certainty: the fleet 
 First moment when the clasped hands meet 
 In wordless eloquence ; the loss and gain 
 
POEMS OF PO WER. 61 
 
 When the strong billows from the deeper main 
 
 Submerge the valleys of the incomplete. 
 
 The restless passion rising into peace; 
 
 The growing beauty of two paths that blend 
 
 Into one perfect way. The glorious faith 
 
 That feels no fear of life's expiring lease. 
 
 And that majestic victory at the end 
 
 When love, unconquered, triumphs over death. 
 
62 POEMS OF POWER. 
 
 THE PROTEST. 
 
 £ AID the great machine of iron and wood, 
 vj "Lo, I am a creature meant for good." 
 But the criminal clutch of Godless greed 
 Has made me a monster that scatters need 
 And want and hunger wherever I go. 
 I would lift men's burdens and lighten their woe 
 I would give them leisure to laugh in the sun, 
 If owned by the Many — instead of the one. 
 
 If owned by the people, the whole wide earth 
 Should learn my purpose and know my worth. 
 I would close the chasm that yawns in our soil 
 'Twixt unearned riches and ill-paid toil. 
 No man should hunger, and no man labour 
 To fill the purse of an idle neighbour; 
 And each man should know when his work was done, 
 Were I shared by the Many — not owned by one. 
 
 I am forced by the few with their greed for gain, 
 To forge for the many new fetters of pain. 
 Yet this is my purpose, and ever will be 
 To set the slaves of the workshop free. 
 God hasten the day when, overjoyed 
 That desperate host of the unemployed 
 Shall hear my message and understand, 
 And hail me friend in an opulent land. 
 
POEMS OF POWER. 63 
 
 THE SNOWFLAKE. 
 
 ALL sheltered by the mother-cloud 
 The little flake looked down ; 
 It saw the city's seething crowd, 
 It saw the shining town. 
 
 "How fair and far those steeples rise 
 
 To greet us, mother dear! 
 It is so lovely in the skies, 
 
 Why do we linger here? 
 
 "The south wind says the merry earth 
 
 Is full of life and glow; 
 I long to mingle with its mirth — 
 
 O mother! let us go." 
 
 The mother-cloud reached out her arm, 
 "Oh, little flake," quoth she, 
 
 "The earth is full of sin and harm, 
 Bide here, bide here, with me." 
 
 But when the pale cloud-mother slept, 
 The north wind whispered "Fly!" 
 
 And from her couch the snowflake crept 
 And tiptoed down the sky. 
 
64 POEMS OF POWER. 
 
 Before the Winter's sun his fleet 
 Brief journey made that day, 
 
 All soiled and blackened in the street, 
 The little snowflake lay. 
 
POEMS OF POWER. 65 
 
 GOD'S MOTTO. 
 
 THIS is the season of wooing and mating, 
 The heart of Nature calls out for its own, 
 And God have pity on those who are waiting 
 
 The fair unfolding of Spring, alone. 
 For the fowls fly north in pairs together, 
 
 And two by two are the leaves unfurled, 
 And the whole intent of the wind and weather 
 Is to waken love, in the thought of the world. 
 
 Up through the soil where the grass is springing, 
 
 To flaunt green flags in the golden light, 
 Each little sprout its mate is bringing 
 
 (Oh, one little sprout were a lonely sight). 
 We wake at dawn with the silvery patter 
 
 Of bird-notes falling like showers of rain, 
 And need but listen to prove their chatter 
 
 The amorous echo of love's sweet pain. 
 
 In the buzz of the bee and the strong steed's neigh- 
 ing, 
 
 In the bursting bud and the heart's unrest, 
 The voice of Nature again is saying, 
 
 In God's own motto, that love is best. 
 For this is the season of wooing and mating, 
 
 The heart of Nature calls out for its own ; 
 And oh, the sorrow of souls that are waiting 
 
 The soft unfolding of Spring, alone. 
 i 
 
66 POEMS OF POWER. 
 
 HOW LIKE THE SEA. 
 
 HOW like the sea, the myriad-minded sea, 
 Is this large love of ours: so vast, so deep, 
 So full of mysteries! it, too, can keep 
 Its secrets, like the ocean; and is free, 
 Free, as the boundless main. Now it may be 
 Calm like the brow of some sweet child asleep; 
 Again its seething billows surge and leap 
 And break in fulness of their ecstasy. 
 
 Each wave so like the wave which came before, 
 Yet never two the same ! Imperative 
 And then persuasive as the cooing dove, 
 Encroaching ever on the yielding shore — 
 Ready to take ; yet readier still to give — 
 How like the myriad-minded sea, is love. 
 
POEMS OF POWER. 67 
 
 1 
 
 TRUE CHARITY. 
 
 GAVE a beggar from my little store 
 Of well-earned gold. He spent the shining ore 
 And came again, and yet again, still cold 
 And hungry, as before. 
 
 I gave a thought, and through that thought of mine 
 He found himself, the man, supreme, divine! 
 
 Fed, clothed and crowned with blessings man- 
 ifold. 
 And now he begs no more. 
 
68 POEMS OF POWER. 
 
 WHEN THE REGIMENT CAME BACK- 
 
 ALL the uniforms were blue, all the swords were 
 /-\ bright and new, 
 
 When the regiment went marching down the 
 street, 
 All the men were hale and strong as they proudly 
 moved along, 
 Through the cheers that drowned the music of 
 their feet. 
 Oh, the music of the feet keeping time to drums 
 that beat, 
 Oh, the splendor and the glitter of the sight, 
 As with swords and rifles new and in uniforms of 
 blue, 
 The regiment went marching to the fight. 
 
 When the regiment came back all the guns and 
 swords were black 
 And the uniforms had faded out to gray, 
 And the faces of the men who marched through that 
 street again 
 Seemed like faces of the dead who lose their way. 
 For the dead who lose their way can not look more 
 wan and gray. 
 Oh, the sorrow and the pity of the sight, 
 Oh, the weary lagging feet out of step with drums 
 that beat, 
 As the regiment comes marching from the fight. 
 
POEMS OF PO WER. ( 9 
 
 WOMAN TO MAN . 
 
 "Woman is man's enemy, rival and competitor." — John 
 J. Ingalls. 
 
 TOU do but jest, sir, and you jest not well, 
 How could the hand be enemy of the arm, 
 Or seed and sod be rivals! How could light 
 Feel jealousy of heat, plant of the leaf 
 Or competition dwell 'twixt lip and smile? 
 Are we not part and parcel of yourselves? 
 Like strands in one great braid we intertwine 
 And make the perfect whole. You could not be, 
 Unless we gave you birth ; we are the soil 
 From which you sprang, yet sterile were that soil 
 Save as you planted. (Though in the Book we read 
 One woman bore a child with no man's aid 
 We find no record of a man-child born 
 Without the aid of woman! Fatherhood 
 Is but a small achievement at the best 
 While motherhood comprises heaven and hell.) 
 This ever-growing argument of sex 
 Is most unseemly, and devoid of sense. 
 Why waste more time in controversy, when 
 There is not time enough for all of love, 
 Our rightful occupation in this life. 
 Why prate of our defects, of where we fail, 
 
70 POEMS OF PO WER. 
 
 When just the story of our worth would need 
 
 Eternity for telling, and our best 
 
 Development comes ever thro' your praise, 
 
 As through our praise you reach your highest self. 
 
 Oh! had you not been miser of your praise 
 
 And let our virtues be their own reward 
 
 The old established order of the world 
 
 Would never have been changed. Small blame is ours 
 
 For this unsexing of ourselves, and worse 
 
 Effeminizing of the male. We were 
 
 Content, sir, till you starved us, heart and brain. 
 
 All we have done, or wise, or otherwise 
 
 Traced to the root, was done for love of you. 
 
 Let us taboo all vain comparisons, 
 
 And go forth as God meant us, hand in hand, 
 
 Companions, mates and comrades evermore ; 
 
 Two parts of one divinely ordained whole. 
 
POEMS OF PO WER. 71 
 
 THE TRAVELER. 
 
 Reply to Rudyard Kipling's "He travels the fastest who 
 travels alone." 
 
 WHO travels alone with his eyes on the 
 heights, 
 Tho' he laughs in the day time oft weeps in the 
 nights. 
 
 For courage goes down at the set of the sun 
 When the toil of the journey is all borne by one. 
 
 He speeds but to grief tho* full gayly he ride 
 Who travels alone without love at his side. 
 
 Who travels alone without lover or friend 
 
 But hurries from nothing, to naught at the end. 
 
 Tho' great be his winnings and high be his goal 
 He is bankrupt in wisdom and beggared in soul. 
 
 Life's one gift of value to him is denied 
 Who travels alone without love at his side. 
 
 It is easy enough in this world to make haste 
 
 If one live for that purpose — but think of the waste. 
 
 For life is a poem to leisurely read 
 
 And the joy of the journey lies not in its speed. 
 
 Oh, vain his achievement, and petty his pride 
 Who travels alone without love at his side. 
 
72 POEMS OF PO WER* 
 
 THE EARTH. 
 
 THE earth is yours and mine, 
 Our God's bequest. 
 That testament divine 
 Who dare contest? 
 
 Usurpers of the earth, 
 
 We claim our share. 
 We are of royal birth. 
 
 Beware! beware! 
 
 Unloose the hand of greed 
 From God's fair land, 
 
 We claim but what we need — 
 That, we demand. 
 
POEMS OF POWER. 
 
 NOW. 
 
 I LEAVE with God, to-morrow's where and how, 
 And do concern myself but with the Now, 
 That little word though half the future's length 
 Well used, holds twice its meaning and its strength. 
 
 Like one blindfolded groping out his way, 
 I will not try to touch beyond to-day. 
 Since all the future is concealed from sight 
 I need but strive to make the next step right. 
 
 That done the next, and so on, till I find 
 
 Perchance some day I am no longer blind, 
 
 And looking up, behold a radiant Friend 
 
 Who says, * * Rest, now, for you have reached the end. ' ' 
 
74 POEMS OF POWER. 
 
 W 
 
 YOU AND TO-DAY. 
 
 ITH every rising of the sun 
 Think of your life as just begun. 
 
 The past has shrived and buried deep 
 All yesterdays — there let them sleep. 
 
 Nor seek to summon back one ghost 
 Of that innumerable host. 
 
 Concern yourself with but to-day. 
 Woo it and teach it to obey, 
 
 Your wish and will. Since time began 
 To-day has been the friend of man. 
 
 But in his blindness and his sorrow 
 He looks to yesterday and to-morrow. 
 
 You and to-day ! a soul sublime 
 
 And the great pregnant hour of time. 
 
 With God between to bind the train — 
 Go forth I say— attain — attain. 
 
POEMS OF PO WER. 75 
 
 THE REASON. 
 
 DO you know what moves the tides 
 As they swing from low to high? 
 'Tis the love, love, love, 
 
 Of the moon within the sky. 
 Oh, they follow where she guides, 
 Do the faithful hearted tides. 
 
 Do you know what moves the earth 
 Out of winter into spring? 
 
 'Tis the love, love, love, 
 
 Of the sun, the mighty king. 
 
 Oh, the rapture that finds birth, 
 
 In the kiss of sun and earth. 
 
 Do you know what makes sweet songs 
 Ring for me above earth's strife? 
 
 'Tis the love, love, love, 
 
 That you bring into my life, 
 
 Oh, the glory of the songs 
 
 In the heart where love belongs. 
 
76 POEMS OF PO WER. 
 
 THE CHAIN. 
 
 1^/flEN have outgrown the worthless creed, 
 
 I f Which bade them deem it God's good will, 
 
 That labor sweat and starve to fill, 
 And glut the purse of idle greed. 
 
 They have outgrown the poor content 
 
 That breeds oppression. Forged by pain, 
 Mind links with mind in one great chain 
 
 Of protest and of argument. 
 
 And by the hand of progress hurled, 
 This mighty chain of human thought, 
 In silence and in anguish wrought, 
 
 Encompasses the pulsing world. 
 
 And he who will not form a link 
 
 Of new conditions soon to be, 
 
 Ere long must stand aghast to see, 
 Old systems toppling down the brink. 
 
 They cannot and they shall not last. 
 The broader impulse of the day 
 Will gain and grow and sweep away 
 
 The-rank injustice of the past. 
 
 The purport of the hour is vast. 
 
 The world needs justice. It demands 
 
POEMS OF PO WER. 77 
 
 United hearts, united hands. 
 The day of charity is past. 
 
 Let no man think he can despoil 
 
 And rob his kind by trick and fraud, 
 And at the last make peace with God 
 
 By tossing alms to honest toil. 
 
 More labor for the selfish few; 
 
 More leisure for the burdened mass; 
 
 These things shall surely come to pass, 
 As old conditions change to newt 
 
 They change thro' strain and strike and strife, 
 The worst but speeds the final best, 
 Work for all men — for all men rest, 
 
 And time to taste the joys of life. 
 
78 POEMS OF PO WER. 
 
 MISSION. 
 
 F you are sighing for a lofty work, 
 If great ambitions dominate your mind, 
 Just watch yourself and see you do not shirk 
 The common little ways of being kind. 
 
 I 
 
 If you are dreaming of a future goal, 
 
 When crowned with glory men shall own your 
 power, 
 Be careful that you let no struggling soul 
 
 Go by unaided in the present hour. 
 
 If you are moved to pity for the earth, 
 And long to aid it, do not look so high, 
 
 You pass some poor, dumb creature faint with thirst. 
 All life is equal in the eternal eye. 
 
 If you would help to make the wrong things right, 
 Begin at home: there lies a lifetime's toil. 
 
 Weed your own garden fair for all men's sight, 
 Before you plan to till another's soil. 
 
 God chooses his own leaders in the world, 
 
 And from the rest he asks but willing hands. 
 
 As mighty mountains into place are hurled, 
 
 While patient tides may only shape the sands. 
 
POEMS OF POWER. 79 
 
 REPETITION. 
 
 OVER and over and over 
 These truths I will weave in song, 
 That God's great plan needs you and me, 
 That will is greater than destiny 
 
 And that love moves the world along. 
 
 However mankind may doubt it, 
 
 It shall listen and hear my creed, 
 That God may ever be found within — 
 That the worship of self is the only sin, 
 
 And the only devil is greed. 
 
 Over and over and over 
 
 These truths I will say and sing, 
 That love is mightier far than hate 
 That a man's own thought is a man's own fate, 
 
 And that life is a goodly thing. 
 
80 POEMS OF PO WER. 
 
 BEGIN THE DAY. 
 
 BEGIN each morning with a talk to God, 
 And ask for your divine inheritance 
 Of usefulness, contentment and success. 
 Resign all fear, all doubt, and all despair. 
 The stars doubt not, and they are undismayed. 
 Though whirled through space for countless cen- 
 turies, 
 And told not why or wherefore: and the sea 
 With everlasting ebb and flow obeys, 
 And leaves the purpose with the unseen Cause. 
 The star sheds radiance on a million worlds, 
 The sea is prodigal with waves, and yet 
 No luster from the star is lost, and not 
 One drop is missing from the ocean tides. 
 Oh, brother to the star and sea, know all 
 God's opulence is held in trust for those 
 Who wait serenely and who work in faith. 
 
POEMS OF POWER. 81 
 
 WORDS. 
 
 WORDS are great forces in the realm of life. 
 Be careful of their use. Who talks of hate, 
 Of poverty, of sickness, but sets rife 
 These very elements to mar his fate. 
 
 When love, health, happiness and plenty hear 
 Their names repeated over day by day, 
 
 They wing their way like answering fairies near, 
 Then nestle down within our homes to stay. 
 
 Who talks of evil conjures into shape 
 
 The formless thing and gives it life and scope. 
 
 This is the law: then let no word escape 
 
 That does not breathe of everlasting hope. 
 
82 POEMS OF POWER. 
 
 W 
 
 FATE AND I. 
 
 ISE men tell me thou, O Fate, 
 Art invincible and great. 
 
 Well, I own thy prowess; still 
 Dare I flount thee, with my will. 
 
 Thou canst shatter in a span 
 All the earthly pride of man. 
 
 Outward things thou canst control 
 But stand back — I rule my soul! 
 
 Death? 'Tis such a little thing — 
 Scarcely worth the mentioning. 
 
 What has death to do with me, 
 Save to set my spirit free? 
 
 Something in me dwells, O Fate, 
 That can rise and dominate. 
 
 Loss, and sorrow, and disaster, 
 
 How, then, Fate, art thou my master? 
 
 In the great primeval morn 
 My immortal will was born. 
 
POEMS OF POWER. 83 
 
 Part of that stupendous Cause 
 Which conceived the Solar Laws. 
 
 Lit the suns and filled the seas, 
 Royalest of pedigrees. 
 
 That great Cause was Love, the Source, 
 Who most loves has most of Force. 
 
 He who harbors hate one hour 
 Saps the soul of Peace and Power, 
 
 He who will not hate his foe 
 Need not dread life's hardest blow. 
 
 In the realm of brotherhood 
 Wishing no man aught but good. 
 
 Naught but good can come to me. 
 This is love's supreme decree. 
 
 Since I bar my door to hate, 
 What have I to fear, O Fate? 
 
 Since I fear not — Fate, I vow, 
 I the ruler am, not thou! 
 
84 POEMS OF POWER. 
 
 UNTO THE END. 
 
 KNOW not where to-morrow's paths may wend, 
 Nor what the future holds; but this I know, 
 Whichever way my feet are forced to go, 
 I shall be given courage to the end. 
 
 I 
 
 Though God that awful gift of His may send 
 We call long life, where headstones in a row 
 Hide all of happiness, yet be it so: 
 
 I shall be given courage to the end. 
 
 If dark the deepening shadows be, that blend 
 
 With life's pale sunlight when the sun dips low, 
 
 Though joy speeds by and sorrow's steps are slow, 
 
 I shall be given courage to the end. 
 t 
 
 I do not question what the years portend — 
 Or good or ill, whatever wind may blow; 
 It is enough, enough for me to know 
 
 I shall be given courage to the end. 
 
POEMS OF POWER. 85 
 
 ATTAINMENT. 
 
 USE all your hidden forces. Do not miss 
 The purpose of this life, and do not wait 
 For circumstance to mould or change your fate. 
 In your own self lies Destiny. Let this 
 Vast truth cast out all fear, all prejudice, 
 All hesitation. Know that you are great, 
 Great with divinity. So dominate 
 Environment, and enter into bliss. 
 Love largely and hate nothing. Hold no aim 
 That does not chord with universal good. 
 Hear what the voices of the Silence say, 
 All joys are yours if you put forth your claim. 
 Once let the spiritual laws be understood, 
 Material things must answer and obey. 
 
POEMS OF POWER. 
 
 A PLEA TO PEACE. 
 
 WHEN mighty issues loom before us, all 
 The petty great men of the day seem small, 
 Like pigmies standing in a blaze of light 
 Before some grim majestic mountain height. 
 War, with its bloody and impartial hand, 
 Reveals the hidden weakness of a land, 
 Uncrowns the heroes trusting Peace has made 
 Of men whose honor is a thing of trade. 
 And turns the searchlight full on many a place 
 Where proud conventions long have masked disgrace. 
 Oh, lovely Peace ! as thou art fair be wise. 
 Demand great men and great men shall arise 
 To do thy bidding. Even as warriors come, 
 Swift at the call of bugle and of drum, 
 So at the voice of Peace, imperative 
 As bugle's call, shall heroes spring to live 
 For country and for thee. In every land, 
 In every age, men are what times demand. 
 Demand the best, oh, Peace, and teach thy sons 
 They need not rush in front of death-charged guns 
 With murder in their hearts to prove their worth, 
 The grandest heroes who have graced the earth 
 Were love-filled souls who did not seek the fray, 
 3ut chose the safe, hard, high and lonely way 
 
POEMS OF POWER. 87 
 
 Of selfless labor for a suffering world. 
 
 Beneath our glorious flag again unfurled 
 
 In victory such heroes wait to be 
 
 Called into bloodless action, Peace, by thee. 
 
 Be thou insistent in thy stern demand, 
 
 And wise, great men shall rise up in the land. 
 
88 POEMS OF POWER. 
 
 PRESUMPTION. 
 
 WHENEVER I am prone to doubt or wonder — 
 I check myself, and say, "That mighty One 
 Who made the solar system can not blunder — 
 
 And for the best all things are being done." 
 Who set the stars on their eternal courses 
 
 Has fashioned this strange earth by some sure 
 plan. 
 Bow low, bow low to those majestic forces 
 Nor dare to doubt their wisdom — puny man. 
 
 You can not put one little star in motion, 
 
 You can not shape one single forest leaf, 
 Nor fling a mountain up, nor sink an ocean, 
 
 Presumptuous pigmy, large with unbelief. 
 You can not bring one dawn of regal splendor 
 
 Nor bid the day to shadowy twilight fall, 
 Nor send the pale moon forth with radiance tender, 
 
 And dare you doubt the One who has done all? 
 
 4 'So much is wrong, there is such pain — such 
 sinning." 
 
 Yet look again — behold how much is right ! 
 And He who formed the world from its beginning 
 
 Knows how to guide it upward to the light. 
 Your task, oh, man, is not to carp and cavil 
 
 At God's achievements, but with purpose strong 
 To cling to good* and turn away from evil. 
 
 That is the way to help the world along. 
 
POEMS OF POWER. 89 
 
 HIGH NOON. 
 
 TIME'S finger on the dial of my life 
 Points to high noon ! and yet the half-spent day 
 Leaves less than half remaining, for the dark, 
 Bleak shadows of the grave engulf the end. 
 
 To those who burn the candle to the stick, 
 The sputtering socket yields but little light. 
 Long life is sadder than an early death. 
 We cannot count on raveled threads of age 
 Whereof to weave a fabric. We must use 
 The warp and woof the ready present yields 
 And toil while daylight lasts. When I bethink 
 How brief the past, the future, still more brief 
 Calls on to action, action ! Not for me 
 Is time for retrospection or for dreams, 
 Not time for self-laudation or remorse. 
 Have I done nobly? Then I must not let 
 Dead yesterday unborn to-morrow shame. 
 Have I done wrong? Well, let the bitter taste 
 Of fruit that turned to ashes on my lip 
 Be my reminder in temptation's hour, 
 And keep me silent when I would condemn. 
 Sometimes it takes the acid of a sin 
 To' cleanse the clouded windows of our souls 
 So pity may shine through them, 
 
90 POEMS OF POWER. 
 
 Looking back, 
 My faults and errors seem like stepping-stones 
 That led the way to knowledge of the truth 
 And made me value virtue ; sorrows shine 
 In rainbow colors o'er the gulf of years, 
 Where lie forgotten pleasures. 
 
 Looking forth, 
 Out to the western sky still bright with noon, 
 I feel well spurred and booted for the strife 
 That ends not till Nirvana is attained. 
 
 Battling with fate, with men and with myself, 
 
 Up the steep summit of my life's forenoon, 
 
 Three things I learned, three things of precious 
 
 worth, 
 To guide and help me down the western slope. 
 I have learned how to pray, and toil, and save; 
 To pray for courage to receive what comes, 
 Knowing what comes to be divinely sent ; 
 To toil for universal good, since thus 
 And only thus can good come unto me; 
 To save, by giving whatsoe'er I have 
 To those who have not — this alone is gain. 
 
POEMS OF POWER. 91 
 
 THOUGHT-MAGNETS. 
 
 WITH each strong thought, with every earnest 
 longing. 
 For aught thou deemest needful to thy soul, 
 Invisible vast forces are set thronging 
 Between thee and that goal. 
 
 'Tis only when some hidden weakness alters 
 And changes thy desire, or makes it less, 
 
 That this mysterious army ever falters 
 Or stops short of success. 
 
 Thought is a magnet; and the longed-for pleasure, 
 Or boon, or aim, or object, is the steel; 
 
 And its attainment hangs but on the measure 
 Of what thy soul can feel. 
 
POEMS OF POWER. 
 
 SMILES. 
 
 C MILE a little, smile a little, 
 vj As you go along, 
 Not alone when life is pleasant, 
 
 But when things go wrong. 
 Care delights to see you frowning, 
 
 Loves to hear you sigh ; 
 Turn a smiling face upon her, 
 
 Quick the dame will fly. 
 
 Smile a little, smile a little, 
 
 All along the road ; 
 Every life must have its burden, 
 
 Every heart its load. 
 Why sit down in gloom and darkness, 
 
 With your grief to sup? 
 As you drink Fate's bitter tonic 
 
 Smile across the cup. 
 
 Smile upon the troubled pilgrims 
 
 Whom you pass and meet ; 
 Frowns are thorns, and smiles are blossoms 
 
 Oft for weary feet. 
 Do not make the way seem harder 
 
 By a sullen face, 
 
POEMS OF POWER. 
 
 Smile a little, smile a little, 
 Brighten up the place. 
 
 Smile upon your undone labor; 
 
 Not for one who grieves 
 O'er his task, waits wealth or glory; 
 
 He who smiles achieves. 
 Though you meet with loss and sorrow 
 
 In the passing years, 
 Smile a little, smile a little, 
 
 Even through your tears. 
 
94 POEMS OF POWER. 
 
 THE UNDISCOVERED COUNTRY. 
 
 IV/I AN has explored all countries and all lands, 
 I 1 And made his own the secrets of each clime. 
 Now, ere the world has fully reached its prime, 
 The oval earth lies compassed with steel bands, 
 The seas are slaves to ships that touch all strands, 
 And even the haughty elements sublime 
 And bold, yield him their secrets for all time, 
 And speed like lackeys forth at his commands. 
 
 Still, though he search from shore to distant shore, 
 And no strange realms, no unlocated plains 
 
 Are left for his attainment and control, 
 
 Yet is there one more kingdom to explore. 
 Go, know thyself, O man ! there yet remains 
 
 The undiscovered country of thy soul! 
 
POEMS OF POWER. 95 
 
 THE UNIVERSAL ROUTE. 
 
 AS we journey along, with a laugh and a song, 
 We see, on youth's flower-decked slope, 
 Like a beacon of light, shining fair on the sight, 
 The beautiful Station of Hope. 
 
 But the wheels of old Time roll along as we climb, 
 And our youth speeds away on the years ; 
 
 And with hearts that are numb with life's sorrows 
 we come 
 To the mist-covered Station of Tears. 
 
 Still onward we pass, where the milestones, alas! 
 
 Are the tombs of our dead, to the West, 
 Where glitters and gleams, in the dying sunbeams, 
 4 The sweet, silent Station of Rest. 
 
 All rest is but change, and no grave can estrange 
 
 The soul from its Parent above ; 
 And, scorning the rod, it soars back to its God, 
 
 To the limitless City of Love. 
 
96 POEMS OF POWER. 
 
 UNANSWERED PRAYERS. 
 
 LIKE some school master, kind in being stern, 
 Who hears the children crying o'er their slates 
 And calling, "Help me, master!" yet helps not, 
 Since in his silence and refusal lies 
 Their self-development, so God abides 
 Unheeding many prayers. He is not deaf 
 To any cry sent up from earnest hearts ; 
 He hears and strengthens when He must deny. 
 He sees us weeping over life's hard sums, 
 But should He give the key and dry our tears, 
 What would it profit us when school were done 
 And not one lesson mastered? 
 
 What a world 
 Were this if all our prayers were answered. Not 
 In famed Pandora's box were such vast ills 
 As lie in human hearts. Should our desires, 
 Voiced one by one in prayer, ascend to God 
 And come back as events shaped to our wish, 
 What chaos would result! 
 
 In my fierce youth 
 I sighed out breath enough to move a fleet, 
 Voicing wild prayers to heaven for fancied boons 
 Which were denied; and that denial bends 
 My knee to prayers of gratitude each day 
 
POEMS OF POWER. 97 
 
 Of my maturer years. Yet from those prayers 
 I rose alway regirded for the strife 
 And conscious of new strength. Pray on, sad heart, 
 That which thou pleadest for may not be given, 
 But in the lofty altitude where souls * 
 Who supplicate God's grace are lifted, there 
 Thou shalt find help to bear thy daily lot 
 Which is not elsewhere found. 
 
98 POEMS OF PO WER. 
 
 THANKSGIVING. 
 
 WE walk on starry fields of white 
 And do not see the daisies; 
 For blessings common in our sight 
 
 We rarely offer praises. 
 We sigh for some supreme delight 
 
 To crown our lives with splendor, 
 And quite ignore our daily store 
 Of pleasures sweet and tender. 
 
 Our cares are bold and push their way 
 
 Upon our thought and feeling. 
 They hang about us all the day, 
 
 Our time from pleasure stealing. 
 So unobtrusive many a joy 
 
 We pass by and forget it, 
 But worry strives to own our lives, 
 
 And conquers if we let it. 
 
 There's not a day in all the year 
 But holds some hidden pleasure, 
 
 And looking back, joys oft appear 
 To brim the past's wide measure. 
 
 But blessings are like friends, I hold, 
 Who love and labor near us. 
 
POEMS OF POWER. OD 
 
 We ought to raise our notes of praise 
 While living hearts can hear us. 
 
 Full many a blessing wears the guise 
 
 Of worry or of trouble ; 
 Far-seeing is the soul, and wise, 
 
 Who knows the mask is double. 
 But he who has the faith and strength 
 
 To thank his God for sorrow 
 Has found a joy without alloy 
 
 To gladden every morrow. 
 
 We ought to make the moments notes 
 
 Of happy, glad Thanksgiving; 
 The hours and days a silent phrase 
 
 Of music we are living. 
 And so the theme should swell and grow 
 
 As weeks and months pass o'er us, 
 And rise sublime at this good time, 
 
 A grand Thanksgiving chorus. 
 
 I jfC. 
 
100 POEMS OF PO WER. 
 
 I 
 
 CONTRASTS. 
 
 SEE the tall church steeples, 
 They reach so far, so far; 
 But the eyes of my heart see the world's 
 great mart 
 Where the starving people are. 
 
 I hear the church bells ringing 
 
 Their chimes on the morning air; 
 
 But my soul's sad ear is hurt to hear 
 The poor man's cry of despair 
 
 Thicker and thicker the churches, 
 Nearer and nearer the sky — 
 
 But alack for their creeds while the poor 
 man's needs 
 Grow deeper as years roll by. 
 
POEMS OF POWER. 101 
 
 THY SHIP. 
 
 HADST thou a ship, in whose vast hold lay 
 stored 
 The priceless riches of all climes and lands, 
 Say, wouldst thou let it float upon the seas 
 Unpiloted, of fickle winds the sport, 
 And of wild waves and hidden rocks the prey? 
 
 Thine is that ship; and in its depths concealed 
 Lies all the wealth of this vast universe — 
 Yea, lies some part of God's omnipotence, 
 The legacy divine of every soul. 
 Thy will, O man, thy will is that great ship, 
 And yet behold it drifting here and there — 
 One moment lying motionless in port, 
 Then on high seas by sudden impulse flung, 
 
 Then drying on the sands, and yet again 
 Sent forth on idle quests to no-man's land 
 To carry nothing and to nothing bring; 
 Till worn and fretted by the aimless strife 
 And buffeted by vacillating winds 
 It founders on a rock, or springs a leak 
 With all its unused treasures in the hold. 
 
 Go save thy ship, thou sluggard ; take the wheel 
 And steer to knowledge, glory and success. 
 
102 POEMS OF POWER. 
 
 Great mariners have made the pathway plain 
 For thee to follow ; hold thou to the course 
 Of Concentration Channel, and all things 
 Shall come in answer to thy swerveless wish 
 As comes the needle to the magnet's call, 
 Or sunlight to the prisoned blade of grass 
 That yearns all winter for the kiss of spring; 
 
POEMS OF POWER. 103 
 
 LIFE. 
 
 ALL in the dark we grope along, 
 And if we go amiss 
 We learn at least which path is wrong, 
 And there is gain in this. 
 
 We do not always win the race- 
 By only running right, 
 
 We have to tread the mountain's base 
 Before we reach its height. 
 
 V 
 
 The Christs alone no errors made ; 
 
 So often had they trod *•**" 
 
 The paths that lead through light and shade, 
 
 They had become as God. 
 
 As Krishna, Buddha, Christ again, 
 
 They passed along the way, 
 And left those mighty truths which men 
 
 But dimly grasp to-day. 
 
 But he who loves himself the last 
 
 And knows the use of pain, 
 Though strewn with errors all his past, 
 
 He surely shall attain. 
 
104 POEMS OF POWER. 
 
 Some souls there are that needs must .taste 
 Of wrong, ere choosing right; 
 
 We should not call those years a waste 
 Which led us to the ljght. 
 
POEMS OF POWER. 105 
 
 A MARINE ETCHING. 
 
 YACHT from its harbor ropes pulled free. 
 And leaped like a steed o'er the race track 
 blue, 
 Then up behind her the dust of the sea, 
 
 A gray fog, drifted, and hid her from view. 
 
 A 
 
106 POEMS OF POWER. 
 
 "LOVE THYSELF LAST." 
 
 LOVE thyself last. Look near, behold thy duty 
 To those who walk beside thee down life's 
 road. 
 Make glad their days by little acts of beauty 
 
 And help them bear the burden of earth's load. 
 
 Love thyself last. Look far and find the stranger, 
 Who staggers 'neath his sin and his despair; 
 
 Go lend a hand, and lead him out of danger, 
 
 To heights where he may see the world is fair. 
 
 Love thyself last. The vastnesses above thee 
 Are filled with Spirit Forces, strong and pure. 
 
 And fervently, these faithful friends shall love thee : 
 Keep thou thy watch o'er others and endure. 
 
 Love thyself last ; and oh, such joy shall thrill thee, 
 As never yet to selfish souls was given. 
 
 Whate'er thy lot, a perfect peace will fill thee, 
 And earth shall seem the ante-room of Heaven. 
 
 Love thyself last, and thou shall grow in spirit 
 To see, to hear, to know, and understand. 
 
 The message of the stars, lo, thou shall hear it, 
 And all God's joys shall be at thy command. 
 
POEMS OP POWER. 107 
 
 CHRISTMAS FANCIES. 
 
 WHEN Christmas bells are swinging above the 
 fields of snow, 
 We hear sweet voices ringing from lands of long 
 ago, 
 
 And etched on vacant places 
 Are half forgotten faces 
 Of friends we used to cherish, and loves we used to 
 
 know — 
 When Christmas bells are swinging above the fields 
 of snow. 
 
 Uprising from the ocean of the present surging near, 
 We see, with strange emotion that is not free from 
 fear, 
 
 That continent Elysian 
 Long vanished from our vision, 
 Youth's lovely lost Atlantis, so mourned for and so 
 
 dear, 
 Uprising from the ocean of the present surging 
 near. 
 
 When gloomy gray Decembers are roused to Christ- 
 mas mirth, 
 
 The dullest life remembers there once was joy on 
 earth. 
 
108 POEMS OF POWER. 
 
 And draws from youth's recesses 
 Some memory it possesses, 
 And, gazing through the lens of time, exaggerates 
 
 its worth, 
 Wh,en gloomy gray December is roused to Christ- 
 ' mas mirth. , 
 
 When hanging up the holly or mistletoe, I wis 
 Each heart recalls some folly that lit the world 
 with bliss. 
 
 Not all the seers and sages 
 With wisdom of the ages 
 Can give the mind such pleasure as memories of 
 
 that kiss 
 When hanging up the holly or mistletoe, I wis. 
 
 For life was made for loving, and love alone repays, 
 As passing years are proving, for all of Time's sad 
 ways. 
 
 There lies a sting in pleasure, 
 And fame gives shallow measure, 
 And wealth is but a phantom that mocks the rest- 
 less days, 
 For life was made for loving, and only loving pays. 
 
 When Christmas bells are pelting the air with silver 
 
 chimes, 
 And silences are melting to soft, melodious rhymes, 
 
POEMS OF POWER, 109 
 
 Let Love, the world's beginning, 
 End fear and hate and sinning; 
 Let Love, the God Eternal, be worshiped in all 
 
 climes 
 When Christmas bells are pelting the air with silver 
 chimes. 
 
110 POEMS OF POWER. 
 
 THE RIVER. 
 
 I AM a river flowing from God's sea 
 Through devious ways. He mapped my course 
 for me ; 
 I cannot change it; mine alone the toil 
 To keep the waters free from grime and soil. 
 The winding river ends where it began ; 
 And when my life has compassed its brief span 
 I must return to that mysterious source. 
 So let me gather daily on my course 
 The perfume from the blossoms as I pass, 
 Balm from the pines, and healing from the grass, 
 And carry down my current as I go 
 Not common stones but precious gems to show; 
 And tears (the holy water from sad eyes) 
 Back to God's sea, from which all rivers rise. 
 Let me convey, not blood from wounded hearts, 
 Nor poison which the upas tree imparts. 
 When over flowery vales 1 leap with joy, 
 Let me not devastate them, nor destroy, 
 But rather leave them fairer to the sight; 
 Mine be the lot to comfort and delight. 
 And if down awful chasms I needs must leap 
 Let me not murmur at my lot, but sweep 
 On bravely to the end without one fear, 
 
POEMS OF POWER. Ill 
 
 Knowing that He who planned my ways stands 
 
 near. 
 Love sent me forth, to Love I go again, 
 For Love is all, and over all. Amen. 
 
112 POEMS OF POWER. 
 
 SORRY. 
 
 THERE is much that makes me sorry as I jour- 
 ney down life's way, 
 And I seem to see more pathos in poor human lives 
 
 each day. 
 I'm sorry for the strong, brave men, who shield the 
 
 weak from harm, 
 But who, in their own troubled hours, find no pro- 
 tecting arm. 
 
 I'm sorry for the victors who have reached success, 
 
 to stand 
 As targets for the arrows shot by envious failure's 
 
 hand. 
 I'm sorry for the generous hearts who freely shared 
 
 their wine, 
 But drink alone the gall of tears in fortune's drear 
 
 decline. 
 
 I'm sorry for the souls who build their own fame's 
 
 funeral pyre, 
 Derided by the scornful throng like ice deriding 
 
 fire. 
 I'm sorry for the conquering ones who know not 
 
 sin's defeat, 
 But daily tread down fierce desire 'neath scorched 
 , and bleeding feet. 
 
POEMS OF POWER. 113 
 
 I'm sorry for the anguished hearts that break with 
 
 passion's strain, 
 But I'm sorrier for the poor starved souls that never 
 
 knew love's pain, 
 Who hunger on through barren years not tasting 
 
 joys they crave, 
 For sadder far is such a lot than weeping o'er a 
 
 grave. 
 
 I'm sorry for the souls that come unwelcomed into 
 birth, 
 
 I'm sorry for the unloved old who cumber up the 
 earth, 
 
 I'm sorry for the suffering poor in life's great mael- 
 strom hurled, 
 
 In truth I'm sorry for them all who make this ach- 
 ing world. 
 
 But underneath whate'er seems sad and is not 
 
 understood, 
 I know there lies hid from our sight a mighty germ 
 
 of good. 
 And this belief stands firm by me, my sermon, 
 
 motto, text — 
 The sorriest things in this life will seem grandest 
 
 in the next. 
 
114 POEMS OF PO WER. 
 
 I 
 
 AMBITION'S TRAIL. 
 
 F all the end of this continuous striving 
 
 Were simply to attain, 
 How poor would seem the planning and contriving 
 The endless urging and the hurried driving 
 
 Of body, heart and brain! 
 
 But ever in the wake of true achieving, 
 
 There shines this glowing trail — 
 Some other soul will be spurred on, conceiving 
 New strength and hope, in its own power believing, 
 Because thou didst not fail. 
 
 Not thine alone the glory, nor the sorrow, 
 
 If thou doth miss the goal, 
 Undreamed of lives in many a far to-morrow 
 From thee their weakness or their force shall 
 borrow — 
 
 On, on, ambitious soul. 
 
POEMS OF POWER. 115 
 
 UNCONTROLLED. 
 
 THE mighty forces of mysterious space 
 Are one by one subdued by lordly man. 
 The awful lightning that for eons ran 
 Their devastating and untrammeled race, 
 Now bear his messages from place to place 
 
 Like carrier doves. The winds lead on his van; 
 The lawless elements no longer can 
 Resist his strength, but yield with sullen grace. 
 
 His bold feet scaling heights before untrod, 
 
 Light, darkness, air and water, heat and cold 
 He bids go forth and bring him power and 
 pelf. 
 And yet, though ruler, king and demi-god, 
 
 He walks with his fierce passions uncontrolled 
 The conqueror of all things — save himself. 
 
1 16 POEMS OF PO WER. 
 
 WILL. 
 
 TOU will be what you will to be ; 
 Let failure find its false content 
 In that poor word "environment," 
 But spirit scorns it, and is free. 
 
 It masters time, it conquers space, 
 It cowes that boastful trickster Chance, 
 And bids the tyrant Circumstance 
 
 Uncrown and fill a servant's place. 
 
 The human Will, that force unseen, 
 The offspring of a deathless Soul, 
 Can hew the way to any goal, 
 
 Though walls of granite intervene. 
 
 Be not impatient in delay, 
 But wait as one who understands; 
 When spirit rises and commands, 
 
 The gods are ready to obey. 
 
 The river seeking for the sea 
 Confronts the dam and precipice, 
 Yet knows it cannot fail or miss; 
 
 You will be what you will to be! 
 
POEMS OF PO WER. 117 
 
 TO AN ASTROLOGER. 
 
 NAY, seer, I do not doubt thy mystic lore, 
 Nor question that the tenor of my life, 
 Past, present and the future, is revealed 
 There in my horoscope. I do believe 
 That yon dead moon compels the haughty seas 
 To ebb and flow, and that my natal star 
 Stands like a stern-browed sentinel in space 
 And challenges events; nor lets one grief, 
 Or joy, or failure, or success, pass on 
 To mar or bless my earthly lot, until 
 It proves its Karmic right to come to me. 
 
 All this I grant, but more than this I know! 
 Before the solar systems were conceived, 
 When nothing was but the unnamable, 
 My spirit lived, an atom of the Cause. 
 Through countless ages and in many forms 
 It has existed, ere it entered in 
 This human frame to serve its little day 
 Upon the earth. The deathless Me of me, 
 The spark from that great all-creative fire 
 Is part of that eternal source called God, 
 And mightier than the universe. 
 
 Why, he 
 Who knows, and knowing, never once forgets 
 
118 POEMS OF PO WER. 
 
 The pedigree divine of his own soul, 
 Can conquer, shape and govern destiny 
 And use vast space as 'twere a board for chess 
 With stars for pawns; can change his horoscope 
 To suit his will; turn failure to success. 
 And from preordained sorrows, harvest joy. 
 
 There is no puny planet, sun or moon, 
 
 Or zodiacal sign which can control 
 
 The God in us! If we bring that to bear 
 
 Upon events, we mold them to our wish; 
 
 'Tis when the infinite 'neath the finite gropes 
 
 That men are governed by their horoscopes. 
 
P OEMS OF PO WER. 119 
 
 THE TENDRIL'S FATE. 
 
 UNDER the snow in the dark and the cold, 
 A pale little sprout was humming; 
 Sweetly it sang, ''neath the frozen mold, 
 Of the beautiful days that were coming. 
 
 4 'How foolish your songs," said a lump of clay, 
 "What is there, I ask, to prove them? 
 
 Just look at the walls between you and the day, 
 Now, have you the strength to move them?" 
 
 But under the ice and under the snow 
 The pale little sprout kept singing, 
 
 "I cannot tell how, but I know, I know, 
 I know what the days are bringing. 
 
 44 Birds, and blossoms, and buzzing bees, 
 
 Blue, blue skies above me, 
 Bloom on the meadows and buds on the trees, 
 
 And the great glad sun to love me." 
 
 A pebble spoke next: 44 You are quite absurd," 
 It said, "with your song's insistence; 
 
 For / never saw a tree or a bird, 
 
 So of course there are none in existence." 
 
 44 But I know, I know," the tendril cried, 
 
 In beautiful sweet unreason; 
 Till lo! from its prison, glorified, 
 
 It burst in the glad spring season, 
 
120 POEMS OF PO WER. 
 
 THE TIMES. 
 
 THE times are not degenerate, Man's faith 
 Mounts higher than of old. No crumbling 
 creed 
 Can take from the immortal soul the need 
 
 Of that supreme Creator, God. The wraith 
 Of dead beliefs we cherished in our youth 
 Fades but to let us welcome new-born Truth. 
 
 Man may not worship at the ancient shrine 
 Prone on his face, in self-accusing scorn. 
 That night is past. He hails a fairer morn, 
 
 And knows himself a something all divine; 
 No humble worm whose heritage is sin, 
 But, born of God, he feels the Christ within. 
 
 Not loud his prayers, as in the olden time, 
 But deep his reverence for that mighty force, 
 That occult working of the great All-Source, 
 
 Which makes the present era so sublime. 
 Religion now means something high and broad, 
 And man stood never half so near to God. 
 
POEMS OF PO WER. 121 
 
 THE QUESTION. 
 
 BESIDE us in our seeking after pleasures, 
 Through all our restless striving after fame, 
 Through all our search for worldly gains and 
 reasures, 
 There walketh one whom no man likes to name. 
 Silent he follows, veiled of form and feature, 
 
 Indifferent if we sorrow or rejoice, 
 Yet that day comes when every living creature 
 Must look upAn his face and hear his voice. 
 
 When that day comes to you, and Death, unmask- 
 ing, 
 
 Shall bar your path, and say, " Behold the end," 
 What are the questions that he will be asking 
 
 About your past? Have you considered, friend? 
 I think he will not chide you for your sinning, 
 
 Nor for your creeds or dogmas will he care ; 
 He will but ask, "From your life 's first beginning 
 
 How many burdens have you helped to bear? " 
 
122 POEMS OF POWER, 
 
 SORROW'S USES. 
 
 l HE uses of sorrow I comprehend 
 Better and better at each year's end. 
 
 Deeper and deeper I seem to see 
 Why and wherefore it has to be. 
 
 Only after the dark, wet days 
 
 Do we fully rejoice in the sun's bright rays. 
 
 Sweeter the crust tastes after the fast 
 Than the sated gourmand's finest repast. 
 
 The faintest cheer sounds never amiss 
 To the actor who once has heard a hiss. 
 
 To one who the sadness of freedom knows, 
 Light seem the fetters love may impose. 
 
 And he who has dwelt with his heart alone, 
 Hears all the music in friendship's tone. 
 
 So better and better I comprehend 
 How sorrow ever would be our friend, 
 
POEMS OF POWER. 123 
 
 IF- 
 
 TWIXT what thou art, and what thou wouldst 
 be, let 
 No "If" arise on which to lay the blame. 
 Man makes a mountain of that puny word, 
 But, like a blade of grass before the scythe, 
 It falls and withers when a human will, 
 Stirred by creative force, sweeps toward its aim. 
 
 Thou wilt be what thou couldst be. Circumstance 
 Is but the toy of genius. When a soul 
 Burns with a god-like purpose to achieve, 
 All obstacles between it and its goal 
 Must vanish as the dew before the sun. 
 
 "If" is the motto of the dilettante 
 
 And idle dreamer; 'tis the poor excuse 
 
 Of mediocrity. The truly great 
 
 Know not the word, or know it but to scorn, 
 
 Else had Joan of Arc a peasant died, 
 
 Uncrowned by glory and by men unsung. 
 
124 POEMS OF POWER, 
 
 WHICH ARE YOU? 
 
 HERE are two kinds of people on earth to-day; 
 Just two kinds of people, no more, I say. 
 
 Not the sinner and saint, for it's well -understood, 
 The good are half bad, and the bad are half good. 
 
 Not the rich and the poor, for to rate a man's 
 
 wealth, 
 You must first know the state of his conscience and 
 
 health. 
 
 Not the humble and proud, for in life's little span, 
 Who puts on vain airs, is not counted a man. 
 
 Not the happy and sad, for the swift flying years 
 Bring each man his laughter and each man his tears. 
 
 No; the two kinds of people on earth 1 mean, 
 Are the people who lift, and the people who lean. 
 
 Wherever you go, you will find the earth's masses 
 Are always divided in just these two classes. 
 
 And, oddly enough, you will findi too, I ween, 
 There's only one lifter to twenty who lean, 
 
POEMS OF PO WER. 125 
 
 In which class are you? Are you easing the load 
 Of overtaxed lifters, who toil down the road? 
 
 Or are you a leaner, who lets others share 
 Your portion of labor, and worry and care? 
 
126 POEMS OF POWER. 
 
 THE CREED TO BE. 
 
 OUR thoughts are molding unmade spheres, 
 And, like a blessing - or a curse, 
 They thunder down the formless years, 
 And ring throughout the universe. 
 
 We build our futures, by the shape 
 
 Of our desires, and not by acts. 
 There is no pathway of escape; 
 
 No priest-made creeds can alter fac 
 
 Salvation is not begged or bought; 
 
 Too long this selfish hope sufficed; 
 Too long man reeked with lawless thought, 
 
 And leaned upon a tortured Christ. 
 
 Like shriveled leaves, these worn out creeds 
 Are dropping from Religion's tree ; 
 
 The world begins to know its needs, 
 And souls are crying to be free. 
 
 Free from the load of fear and grief, 
 Man fashioned in an ignorant age ; 
 
 Free from the ache of unbelief 
 He fled to in rebellious rage. 
 
POEMS OF POWER. 127 
 
 No church can bind him to the things 
 That fed the first crude souls, evolved ; 
 
 For, mounting up on daring wings, 
 He questions mysteries all unsolved. 
 
 Above the chant of priests, above 
 
 The blatant voice of braying doubt, 
 
 He hears the still, small voice of Love, 
 Which sends its simple message out. 
 
 And clearer, sweeter, day by day, 
 Its mandate echoes from the skies, 
 
 "Go roll the stone of self away, 
 
 And let the Christ within thee rise. " 
 
128 POEMS OF PO WER. 
 
 INSPIRATION. 
 
 NOT like a daring, bold, aggressive boy, 
 Is inspiration, eager to pursue, 
 But rather like a maiden, fond, yet coy, 
 
 Who gives herself to him who best doth woo. 
 
 Once she may smile, or thrice, thy soul to fire, 
 In passing by, but when she turns her face, 
 
 Thou must persist and seek her with desire, 
 If thou wouldst win the favor of her grace. 
 
 And if, like some winged bird, she cleaves the air, 
 And leaves thee spent and stricken on the earth, 
 
 Still must thou strive to follow even there, 
 
 That she may know thy valor and thy worth. 
 
 Then shall she come unveiling all her charms, 
 Giving thee joy for pain, and smiles for tears; 
 
 Then shalt thou clasp her with possessing arms, 
 The while she murmurs music in thine ears. 
 
 But ere her kiss has faded from thy cheek, 
 She shall flee from thee over hill and glade, 
 
 So must thou seek and ever seek and seek 
 
 For each new conquest of this phantom maid. 
 
POEMS OF PO WER, 129 
 
 THE WISH. 
 
 V HOULD some great angel say to me to-morrow, 
 \3 "Thou must re-tread thy pathway from the 
 
 start, 
 But God will grant, in pity, for thy sorrow, 
 
 Some one dear wish, the nearest to thy heart.'" 
 
 This were my wish! from my life's dim beginning 
 Let be what has been! wisdom planned the whole; 
 
 My want, my woe, my errors, and my sinning, 
 All, all were needed lessons for my soul. 
 
130 POEMS OF PO WER. 
 
 THREE FRIENDS. 
 
 OF all the blessings which my life has known, 
 I value most, and most praise God for three : 
 Want, Loneliness, and Pain, those comrades true, 
 
 Who masqueraded in the garb of foes 
 For many a year, and filled my heart with dread. 
 Yet fickle joys, like false, pretentious friends, 
 Have proved less worthy than this trio. First, 
 
 Want taught me labor, led me up the steep 
 And toilsome paths to hills of pure delight, 
 Trod only by the feet that know fatigue, 
 And yet press on until the heights appear. 
 
 Then loneliness and hunger of the heart 
 Sent me upreaching to the realms of space, 
 Till all the silences grew eloquent, 
 And all their loving forces hailed me friend. 
 
 Last, pain taught prayer! placed in my hand the 
 
 staff 
 Of close communion with the over-soul, 
 That I might lean upon it to the end, 
 And find myself made strong for any strife. 
 
POEMS OF POWER. 131 
 
 And then these three who had pursued my steps 
 Like stern, relentless foes, year after year, 
 Unmasked, and turned their faces full on me. 
 And lo! they were divinely beautiful, 
 For through them shone the lustrous eyes of Love 
 
132 POEMS OF POWER. 
 
 YOU NEVER CAN TELL. 
 
 TOU never can tell when you send a word, 
 Like an arrow shot from a bow 
 By an archer blind, be it cruel or kind, 
 
 Just where it may chance to go. 
 It may pierce the breast of your dearest friend. 
 
 Tipped with its poison or balm, 
 To a stranger's heart in life's great mart, 
 It may carry its pain or its calm. 
 
 You never can tell when you do an act 
 
 Just what the result will be; 
 But with every deed you are sowing a seed, 
 
 Though the harvest you may not see. 
 Each kindly act is an acorn dropped 
 
 In God's productive soil. 
 You may not know, but the tree shall grow, 
 
 With shelter for those who toil. 
 
 You never can tell what your thoughts will do, 
 
 In bringing you hate or love ; 
 For thoughts are things, and their airy wings 
 
 Are swifter than carrier doves. 
 They follow the law of the universe— 
 
 Each thing must create its kind, 
 And they speed o'er the track to bring you back 
 
 Whatever we?it out from your mind» 
 
POEMS OF POWER. 133 
 
 HERE AND NOW. 
 
 HERE, in the heart of the world, 
 Here, in the noise and the din, 
 Here, where our spirits were hurled 
 
 To battle with sorrow and sin, 
 This is the place and the spot 
 
 For knowledge of infinite things; 
 This is the kingdom where Thought 
 Can conquer the prowess of kings. 
 
 Wait for no heavenly life, 
 
 Seek for no temple alone; 
 Here, in the midst of the strife, 
 
 Know what the sages have known. 
 See what the Perfect Ones saw — 
 
 God in the depth of each soul, 
 God as the light and the law, 
 
 God as beginning and goal. 
 
 Earth is one chamber of Heaven, 
 Death is no grander than birth. 
 
 Joy in the life that was given, 
 Strive for perfection on earth. 
 
 Here, in the turmoil and roar, 
 Show wnat it is to be calm; 
 
134 POEMS OF POWER, 
 
 Show how the spirit can soar 
 
 And bring back its healing and balm. 
 
 Stand not aloof nor apart, 
 
 Plunge in the thick of the fight. 
 There in the street and the mart, 
 
 That is the place to do right. 
 Not in some cloister or cave, 
 
 Not in some kingdom above, 
 Here, on this side of the grave, 
 
 Here, should we labor and love. 
 
POEMS OF POWER. 135 
 
 UNCONQUERED. 
 
 HOWEVER skilled and strong art thou, my foe, 
 However fierce is thy relentless hate, 
 Though firm thy hand, and strong thy aim, and 
 straight 
 Thy poisoned arrow leaves the bended bow, 
 To pierce the target of my heart, ah! know 
 I am the master yet of my own fate. 
 Thou canst not rob me of my best estate, 
 Though fortune, fame and friends, yea love shall go. 
 
 Not to the dust shall my true self be hurled; 
 
 Nor shall I meet thy worst assaults dismayed. 
 
 When all things in the balance are well weighed, 
 There is but one great danger in the world — 
 
 Thou canst not force my soul to wish thee ill. 
 
 That is the only evil that can kill. 
 
136 POEMS OF POWER. 
 
 ALL THAT LOVE AS^S. 
 
 ALL that I ask," says Love, "is just to stand 
 And gaze, unchided, deep in thy dear eyes; 
 For in their depths lies largest Paradise. 
 
 Yet, if perchance one pressure of thy hand 
 Be granted me, then joy I thought complete 
 Were still more sweet. 
 
 44 All that I ask," says Love, "all that I ask, 
 Is just thy hand clasp. Could I brush thy cheek 
 As zephyrs brush a rose leaf, words are weak 
 
 To tell the bliss in which my soul would bask. 
 There is no language but would desecrate 
 A joy so great. 
 
 "All that I ask, is just one tender touch 
 Of^that soft cheek. Thy pulsing palm in mine, 
 Thy dark eyes lifted in a trust divine 
 
 And those curled lips that tempt me overmuch 
 Turned where I may not seize the supreme bliss 
 Of one mad kiss. 
 
 "All that I ask," says Love, "of life, of death, 
 Or of high heaven itself, is just to stand, 
 Glance melting into glance, hand twined in hand, 
 
 The while I drink the nectar of thy breath, 
 
POEMS OF POWER, 137 
 
 In one sweet kiss, but one, of all thy store, 
 I ask no more. ' ' 
 
 "All that I ask" — nay, self-deceiving Love, 
 Reverse thy phrase, so thus the words may fall, 
 In place of "all I ask," say, "I ask all," 
 
 All that pertains to earth or soars above, 
 All that thou wert, art, will be, body, soul, 
 Love asks the whole. 
 
138 POEMS OF POWER. 
 
 "DOES IT PAY?" 
 
 F one poor burdened toiler o'er life's road, 
 Who meets us by the way, 
 Goes on less conscious of his galling load, 
 Then life, indeed, does pay. 
 
 I 
 
 If we can show one troubled heart the gain 
 
 That lies alway in loss, 
 Why, then, we too, are paid for all the pain 
 
 Of bearing life's hard cross. 
 
 If some despondent soul to hope is stirred, 
 
 Some sad lip made to smile, 
 By any act of ours, or any word, 
 
 Then, life has been worth while 
 
POEMS OF POWER. 139 
 
 SESTINA. 
 
 I WANDERED o'er the vast green plains of youth, 
 And searched for Pleasure. On a distant height 
 Fame's silhouette stood sharp against the skies. 
 Beyond vast crowds that thronged a broad highway 
 I caught the glimmer of a golden goal, 
 While from a blooming bower smiled siren Love. 
 
 Straight gazing in her eyes, I laughed at Love, 
 With all the haughty insolence of youth, 
 As past her bower I strode to seek my goal. 
 "Now will I climb to glory's dizzy height," 
 I said, "for there above the common way 
 Doth pleasure dwell companioned by the skies." 
 
 But when I reached that summit near the skies, 
 So far from man I seemed, so far from Love — 
 "Not here," I cried, "doth Pleasure find her way." 
 Seen from the distant borderland of youth, 
 Fame smiles upon us from her sun-kissed height, 
 But frowns in shadows when we reach the goal. 
 
 Then were mine eyes fixed on that glittering goal, 
 Dear to all sense — sunk souls beneath the skies. 
 Gold tempts the artist from the lofty height, 
 Gold lures the maiden from the arms of Love, 
 
140 POEMS OF POWER. 
 
 Gold buys the fresh ingenuous heart of youth, 
 "And gold," I said, "will show me Pleasure's way." 
 
 But ah ! the soil and discord of that way, 
 
 Where savage hordes rushed headlong to the goal, 
 
 Dead to the best impulses of their youth, 
 
 Blind to the azure beauty of the skies; 
 
 Dulled to the voice of conscience and of love, 
 
 They wandered far from Truth's eternal height. 
 
 Then Truth spoke to me from that noble height, 
 Saying: "Thou didst pass Pleasure on the way, 
 She with the yearning eyes so full of Love, 
 Whom thou disdained to seek for glory's goal. 
 Two blending paths beneath God's arching skies 
 Lead straight to Pleasure. Ah, blind heart of youth, 
 Not up fame's height, not toward the base god's 
 
 goal, 
 Doth Pleasure make her way, but 'neath calm skies 
 Where Duty walks with Love in endless youth." 
 
POEMS OF POWER. 141 
 
 THE OPTIMIST. 
 
 THE fields were bleak and sodden. Not a wing 
 Or note enlivened the depressing wood; 
 A soiled and sullen, stubborn snowdrift stood 
 Beside the roadway. Winds came muttering 
 Of storms to be, and brought the chilly sting 
 
 Of icebergs in their breath. Stalled cattle mooed 
 Forth plaintive pleadings for the earth's green 
 food. 
 No gleam, no hint of hope in anything. 
 
 The sky was blank and ashen, like the face 
 
 Of some poor wretch who drains life's cup too 
 fast. 
 
 Yet, swaying to and fro, as if to fling 
 
 About chilled Nature its lithe arms of grace, 
 Smiling with promise in the wintry blast, 
 
 The optimistic Willow spoke of spring. 
 
 THE PESSIMIST. 
 
 T 
 
 HE pessimistic locust, last to leaf, 
 
 Though all the world is glad, still talks of 
 grief. 
 
142 POEMS OF POWER. 
 
 AN INSPIRATION. 
 
 HOWEVER the battle is ended, 
 Though proudly the victor comes 
 With fluttering flags and prancing nags 
 
 And echoing roll of drums, 
 Still truth proclaims this motto 
 
 In letters of living light, — 
 No question is ever settled 
 Until it is settled right. 
 
 Though the heel of the strong oppressor 
 
 May grind the weak in the dust, 
 And the voices of fame with one acclaim 
 
 May call him great and just, 
 Let those who applaud take warning, 
 
 And keep this motto in sight, — 
 No question is ever settled 
 
 Until it is settled right. 
 
 Let those who have failed take courage ; 
 
 Tho' the enemy seems to have won, 
 Tho' his ranks are strong, if he be in the wrong 
 
 The battle is not yet done; 
 For, sure as the morning follows 
 
 The darkest hour of the night, 
 
POEMS OF PO WER. 143 
 
 No question is ever settled 
 Until it is settled right. 
 
 O man bowed down with labor! 
 
 O woman young, yet old! ■ 
 O heart oppressed in the toiler's breast 
 
 And crushed by the power of gold! 
 Keep on with your weary battle 
 
 Against triumphant might; 
 No question is ever settled 
 
 Until it is settled right. 
 
144 POEMS OF POWER. 
 
 LIFE'S HARMONIES. 
 
 LET no man pray that he know not sorrow, 
 Let no soul ask to be free from pain, 
 For the gall of to-day is the sweet of to-morrow, 
 And the moment's loss is the lifetime's gain. 
 
 Through want of a thing does its worth redouble, 
 Through hunger's pangs does the feast content, 
 
 And only the heart that has harbored trouble, 
 Can fully rejoice when joy is sent. 
 
 Let no man shrink from the bitter tonics 
 
 Of grief, and yearning, and need, and strife, 
 
 For the rarest chords in the soul's harmonies. 
 Are found in the minor strains of life. 
 
POEMS OF POWER. 145 
 
 PREPARATION. 
 
 WE must not force events, but rather make 
 The heart soil ready for their coming, as 
 The earth spreads carpets for the feet of Spring, 
 Or, with the strengthening tonic of the frost, u 
 
 Prepares for Winter. Should a July noon 
 Burst suddenly upon a frozen world 
 Small joy would follow, even tho' that world 
 Were longing for the Summer. Should the sting 
 Of sharp December pierce the heart of June, 
 What death and devastation would ensue! 
 All things are planned. The most majestic sphere 
 That whirls through space is governed and con- 
 trolled 
 By supreme law, as is the blade of grass 
 Which through the bursting bosom of the earth 
 Creeps up to kiss the light. Poor puny man 
 Alone doth strive and battle with the Force 
 Which rules all lives and worlds, and he alone 
 Demands effect before producing cause. 
 How vain the hope! We cannot harvest joy 
 Until we sow the seed, and God alone 
 Knows when that seed has ripened. Oft we stand 
 And watch the ground with anxious brooding eyes 
 
 Complaining of the slow unfruitful yield, 
 10 
 
146 POEMS OF POWER, 
 
 Not knowing that the shadow of ourselves 
 Keeps off the sunlight and delays result, v 
 Sometimes our fierce impatience of desire 
 Doth like a sultry May force tender shoots 
 Of half-formed pleasures and unshaped events 
 To ripen prematurely, and we reap 
 But disappointment; or we rot the germs 
 With briny tears ere they have time to grow. 
 While stars are born and mighty planets die 7 
 And hissing comets scorch the brow of space 
 The Universe keeps its eternal calm. 
 Through patient preparation, year on year, 
 The earth endures the travail of the Spring 
 And Winter's desolation. So our souls 
 In grand submission to a higher law 
 Should move serene through all the ills of life, 
 Believing them masked joys. 
 
POEMS OF POWER. 147 
 
 I 
 
 GETHSEMANE. 
 
 N golden youth when seems the earth 
 A Summer-land of singing mirth, 
 "When souls are glad and hearts are light, 
 And not a shadow lurks in sight, 
 We do not know it, but there lies 
 Somewhere veiled under evening skies 
 A garden which we all must see — 
 The garden of Gethsemane. 
 
 With joyous steps we go our ways, 
 Love lends a halo to our days ; 
 Light sorrows sail like clouds afar, 
 We laugh, and say how strong we are. 
 We hurry on ; and hurrying, go 
 Close to the border-land of woe, 
 That waits for you, and waits for me — 
 Forever waits Gethsemane. 
 
 Down shadowy lanes, across strange streams, 
 Bridged over by our broken dreams ; 
 Behind the misty caps of years, 
 Beyond the great salt fount of tears, 
 The garden lies. Strive as you may, 
 You cannot miss it in your way. 
 
148 POEMS OF PO WER. 
 
 All paths that have been, or shall be, 
 Pass somewhere through Gethsemane. 
 
 All those who journey, soon or late, 
 Must pass within the garden's gate; 
 Must kneel alone in darkness there, 
 And battle with some fierce despair 
 God pity those who can not say, 
 "Not mine but thine," who only pray, 
 "Let this cup pass," and cannot see 
 The purpose in Gethsemane. 
 
POEMS OF POWER, 149 
 
 GOD'S MEASURE. 
 
 OOD measures souls by their capacity 
 For entertaining his best Angel, Love. 
 Who loveth most is nearest kin to God, 
 Who is all Love, or Nothing. 
 
 He who sits 
 And looks out on the palpitating world, 
 And feels his heart swell in him large enough 
 To hold all men within it, he is near 
 His great Creator's standard, though he dwells 
 Outside the pale of churches, and knows not 
 A feast-day from a fast- day, or a line 
 Of Scripture even. What God wants of us 
 Is that outreaching bigness that ignores 
 All littleness of aims, or loves, or creeds, 
 And clasps all Earth and Heaven in its embrace. 
 
150 POEMS OF POWER. 
 
 NOBLESSE OBLIGE. 
 
 HOLD it the duty of one who is gifted 
 And specially dowered in all men's sight, 
 To know no rest till his life is lifted 
 Fully up to his great gifts' height. 
 
 I 
 
 He must mold the man into rare completeness, 
 For gems are set only in gold refined. 
 
 He must fashion his thoughts into perfect sweetness, 
 And cast out folly and pride from his mind. 
 
 For he who drinks from a god's gold fountain 
 
 Of art or music or rhythmic song 
 Must sift from his soul the chaff of malice, 
 
 And weed from his heart the roots of wrong. , 
 
 Great gifts should be worn, like a crown befitting! 
 
 And not like gems in a beggar's hands. 
 And the toil must be constant and unremitting 
 
 Which lifts up the king to the crown's demands. 
 
POEMS OF POWER. 151 
 
 A DOMESTIC CONVERSATION. 
 
 Scene: The family living-room. 
 Characters : 
 
 Elaine \ just from boarding school — seventeen, 
 voluptuous and romantic. 
 
 Helen, her mother, married to her first lover, 
 and as ignorant of men, women and chil- 
 dren as such mothers usually are. 
 
 Ralph, the father, who had sowed a large crop 
 of wild oats before marriage, and then, as is 
 customary with men, serenely expects his 
 children to be seraphs. 
 • Marie, his sister, twice a widow, and knowing 
 human nature in all its complexity — child- 
 less, but better able to rear children than 
 are their fathers or mothers. 
 
 Elaine, primping before the mirror in a new gown 
 with a demi-train : 
 "Now I have finished school, put up my hair 
 And down my skirts, I think it is my right 
 To learn about the world which seems so fair. 
 I hear of girls who win all hearts at sight — 
 Tell me, dear parents, and dear aunt, I pray, 
 How can I make men love— ^" 
 
152 POEMS OF POWER. 
 
 The father, looking up from his paper, startled and 
 an ^ : "Tut, tut, I say, 
 
 What sort of talk is this for chit like you! 
 Is that the theme you studied in your school? 
 That old Italian's theory must be true 
 About degenerates " 
 
 Au7it Marie, quietly interrupting: 
 
 "Ralph, don't be a fool 
 (Tho' forty years you've stood upon the brink) ; 
 Elaine but speaks what other girls all think." 
 
 The mother, mildly: 
 
 "Elaine is but a child! She does not know 
 The meaning of the words she uses; she 
 Has not a thought that is not pure as snow. 
 There, Ralph, you've made our darling weep, 
 
 you see; 
 You should not let your temper fly so loose." 
 
 Elaine, petulantly : 
 
 "I will not be set down for such a goose, 
 Mamma, as you would make me out: I'm sure 
 I know quite well what I am talking of. 
 Where is the sin, and, pray, what is impure 
 In craving knowledge of a thing like love ? 
 I heard a man last night tell Aunt Marie 
 She must have taken the thirty-third degree 
 In Cupid's order! And the way he smiled 
 I know he did not think dear auntie bad." 
 
POEMS OF POWER. 153 
 
 The mother, looking troubled: 
 
 "Just hear her prattle on, the simple child." 
 
 The father, throwing down his paper and bursting 
 out anew : 
 "A convent is the place for her! Egad! 
 She's too precocious! It's a pretty pass 
 When subjects such as these absorb a lass 
 Of seventeen!" 
 
 A unt Marie, in an aside : 
 
 ("Her mother's years were less 
 By one, and yours by five, I think, were more 
 When you eloped! Nell lengthened down her 
 
 dress 
 By letting out the hem the night before. 
 And Nell was not your first love, either. 
 
 Queer, 
 How apples grow on apple trees, Ralph dear, 
 Now, isn't it?") 
 
 Aloud to Elaine: 
 
 "Come close, my sweet Elaine, 
 Your father and your mother and myself 
 Will listen to your questions. Now be plain 
 (If that could be with such a charming elf) ; 
 Tell us your thoughts, reveal your very heart. 
 Who but your elders should life's truths impart? 
 Your father does but jest, and play a role; 
 Your mother tool They both know, as I do, 
 
154 POEMS OF POWER. 
 
 That love is the germ, the purpose and the goal 
 
 Of every living thing; they know when you 
 
 Ask questions about love, it is because 
 
 You are a part of that Eternal Cause. 
 
 They know the maid or youth who does not 
 
 muse 
 Or wonder over love the beautiful 
 Has missed imagination's sweetest use, 
 And must be ill, anemic or quite dull. 
 They know the danger, too, that lurks in dreams 
 * Not anchored by some knowledge of such 
 
 themes, 
 And they are glad to have this privilege; 
 Your confidence is love's sweet recompense. 
 Hide not behind your timid maiden hedge. 
 But meet us on the plains of common sense. 
 We all were young like you, once! And all 
 
 three 
 Were just as full of curiosity." 
 
 Elaine \ shyly: 
 
 "Well — oh — there is so much I want to learn: 
 
 How to win love — I do not want to miss 
 
 This happiness in life! And oft I yearn 
 
 To know the meaning of a lover's kiss — 
 
 I read of it in story, verse and song, 
 
 And yet some people seem to think it wrong." 
 
POEMS OF POWER. 155 
 
 The father, hastily: 
 
 1 'Wrong! Yes 'tis wrong — 'tis very wrong. 
 
 In truth, 
 'Tis even wicked. It's a deed to shun." 
 
 The mother, hesitatingly : 
 
 "Until you are a wife! Or if the youth 
 
 Has bid you nanle the day — why, then just one 
 
 Wee — little — kiss, perhaps, upon the cheek — ' ' 
 
 Elaine: 
 
 1 * In books it is the lips men seem to seek. ' ' 
 
 Aunt Marie: 
 
 "A kiss is like a bee — a honeyed thing 
 
 One needs approach with caution. In its sweet 
 
 Lies hidden oft a very cruel sting. 
 
 It is no sin to kiss — but more discreet 
 
 To keep your lips for love's pre-nuptial feast." 
 
 The father: 
 
 "I'd shoot the man down like a ravenous beast 
 Who from my daughter's lips should dare to 
 
 brush 
 The bloom of innocence." 
 
 Marie, aside to him: 
 
 ("Ralph, I recall the only time I ever saw you 
 
 blush: 
 I caught you kissing Helen in the hall 
 
156 POEMS OF POWER. 
 
 Full three long months before you two were 
 
 one. 
 How fortunate her father had no gun!") 
 
 Aloud \ to Elaine: 
 
 "Be lovable and loving, would you win 
 The love of other souls! To warmth, not cold, 
 The roses yield their fragrance. Here within 
 The safe home garden let your heart unfold 
 Its treasures. Thinks not idly sit and dream ; 
 And be, nor rest content to merely seem. 
 The holiest thing in life is love's grand passion; 
 Make no light jest of it, nor dissipate 
 Your wealth of womanhood in idle fashion, 
 Pretending love, until you find, too late, 
 You have no feeling even to play the part. 
 There is no beggary like a paupered heart. 
 To be a woman is a glorious thing, 
 And to be beautiful and bright; ah, sweet, 
 When all is done, what talents you must bring 
 To lay down at the generous Giver's feet. 
 Be this your aim — that at the end men say, 
 'The world seems better since she passed this 
 
 way.'" 
 
 {Exit Elaine. ) 
 
 Marie> turning to parents : 
 
 "Deliberate criminals — colossal fools, 
 To bring a child to earth the usual way 
 
POEMS OF POWER. 157 
 
 And then to shut her with old maids in schools 
 And think your duty done ! To frown and say 
 'Shame,' when her growing mind would reach 
 
 and climb 
 To those great truths that are as old as time. 
 To know her born of you and your desire, 
 Yet think her free from mortal passions! Oh, 
 I wonder God's great patience does not tire 
 Looking on fools of parents here below." 
 {Goes out and bangs the dooi\) 
 
 Helen, sighing: 
 
 "So queer, and such a temper! It is plain 
 She's not the chaperone for our Elaine."