UC-NRLF 
 
 P S 
 
 3509 
 
 M47 
 
 L3 
 
 1918 
 
 MAIN 
 
Mrs. Phoebe A. Hearst 
 
Photomount 
 
 U.C.BERKELEY LIBRARIES 
 
 UK 
 
 IOCS 
 
 
LAURELS 
 
LAURA PAYNE EMERSON 
 
LAURELS 
 
 By LAURA PAYNE EMERSON 
 
 ; 
 
 SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA 
 
Copyright by 
 LAURA B. PAYNE 
 
 MEMORIAM 
 
FJW1 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 Appeal to the Proletariat, An 66-67 
 
 As It Shall Be 52-53 
 
 Baby Donald 62 
 
 Bolsheviki, The 40-41 
 
 Cosmic Consciousness 13 
 
 Country School, The 60-61 
 
 Dawn in the East, The 38 to 40 
 
 Death in the Cottage, The 48 to 50 
 
 Gertrude and Geraldine 16-17 
 
 Hobo, The 56 to 58 
 
 Industrial Workers of the World, The 56 to 59 
 
 I Am 37 
 
 In the Valley of Shadows 13 to 15 
 
 Liberty . . . . 15-16 
 
 Lines to Lena 68 
 
 Love , . . ; 29 to31 
 
 Meditation ......... . ......... ... ,,.. 32-33 
 
 Memories and Hope 17 to 19 
 
 My Castle 31-32 
 
 My Church 63 
 
 My Floweret 65-66 
 
 Never Alone 64-65 
 
 Picture of Farm Life, A 26 to 29 
 
 Restitution and Retribution 44 to 46 
 
 Robbie and Jim 19 to 23 
 
 School Memories 63-64 
 
 Soul Knoweth Its Own, The 23 to 25 
 
 Today 9-10 
 
 To Gertrude 34-35 
 
 To You 11-12 
 
 Trusting 35-36 
 
 Vision, A 41 to 43 
 
 Voice of the Soul, The 66-67 
 
 Wayfarer s Query, The 25-26 
 
 What the Angels Saw 53 to 56 
 
 Woman s Prayer, A 50 to 52 
 
 White Rose ." 68-69 
 
 1188 
 
Kindly dedicated to all those 
 who toil, and those who think 
 
MY VIEWS ON THE WAR. 
 
 As we go to press on this little volume, the great 
 world war is raging. It is March 27, 1918, the sev 
 enth day of the great German drive on the west 
 front and the outcome is still uncertain. I do not 
 offer the following as a prophecy, but as my friends 
 have requested me to give my opinion on the great 
 war I make the following statement as to my be 
 lief about things as they now are. Of course time 
 will tell whether I am right. 
 
 I believe this war had to be. Conditions and 
 forces leading up to it which cannot be explained 
 here, made it imperative. I believe the Germans 
 will finally be overwhelmed and utterly defeated, 
 not altogether by the Allied nations now opposing 
 them, but by the Russian proletariat, also. 
 
 The action of the Germans in invading Russia, 
 and her apparent determination to re-establish the 
 old order has shown the Bolsheviki that they must 
 fight to uphold their revolution. 
 
 It may be said that all capitalist countries would 
 be glad to see the Russian working class regime 
 overthrown, and that Germany is no worse than 
 any of the others would be if the opportunity were 
 afforded them as it was Germany. Perhaps that 
 is so, but we must not forget that President Wilson 
 refused to sanction a Japanese intervention in Si- 
 
beria, and has offered to aid Russia in any way 
 possible. No doubt his attitude on this question 
 prevented the Japanese Government from laying 
 hands on iSiberia. 
 
 I believe that the rise of the proletariat of Russia, 
 and the part they are destined to play in this great 
 struggle are but the beginning of the world revolu 
 tion which will follow this war or perhaps end it. 
 
 While I am an internationalist I do not think it 
 best to oppose this country in its war program. In 
 fact, I believe that to help it will hasten the time 
 for which we long, the day of industrial freedom. 
 
 LAURA PAYNE EMERSON. 
 
Miscellaneous Poems 
 
 TODAY. 
 
 Be happy today while the sky is bright, 
 
 And the birds are singing with cheerful delight. 
 
 Let the smiles of contentment your face adorn, 
 
 For the world is too full of the sad and forlorn. 
 
 Let songs of rejoicing pour forth from your soul, 
 
 And symphonies grand ever heavenward roll. 
 
 Chant not a dirge as you journey along, 
 
 But make the world ring with life s beautiful song. 
 
 Be generous today with your love and gold, 
 While the suffering millions of young and old, 
 Are reaching their eager hands for bread, 
 And sighing for words that are never said 
 Words of affection and sweet tenderness, 
 Touches of hands in the gentle caress. 
 Give, oh, give freely, these gems of great worth, 
 Of which this old world has had so much dearth. 
 
 Be gentle today with the wayworn and sad, 
 Who, footsore and weary, hungry and half-clad, 
 Come timidly knocking upon your back door, 
 Begging even the crumbs from your dining-room floor. 
 Remember they re human, they suffer and feel 
 Pangs which perhaps they now seek to conceal. 
 
 Grieve not for the heathen in far away lands, 
 
 9 
 
Among China s millions or on Afric s hot sands; 
 But in sympathy sweet, oh, list to the plaint 
 Of the one at your door, be he sinner or saint, 
 And do not withhold the crust nor the cup, 
 But bid him come in to rest and to sup. 
 
 Be hopeful today for the final success 
 
 Of the good in the world to conquer distress ; 
 
 For if it be true that our thought s are things, 
 
 Then let them bear out on their snowy white wings 
 
 Rich burdens of love and hope and delight, 
 
 That will bring back the fruit on their homeward flight 
 
 To brighten earth s hills and desolate plains 
 
 And fill all the land with love s peaceful refrains. 
 
 Then let us be happy today and try 
 
 To live for the now, not the bye and bye. 
 
 For if in life s drama we act our part well, 
 
 We need have no fears of the torments of hell. 
 
 Today is the day of salvation, oh friend, 
 
 The day to do right, the day to amend. 
 
 The day to find heaven about you lying, 
 
 To know that you re saved without waiting or dying. 
 
 The day to commune with the saints over there, 
 
 The day you may realize answer to prayer, 
 
 The great day of judgment when sentence is passed 
 
 And the sheep and the goats appear in contrast; 
 
 The day that the soul may find happy release 
 
 And rejoice in a heaven of infinite peace, 
 
 By casting out sorrow, Satan and sin, 
 
 And bidding pure love rule the kingdom within. 
 
 10 
 
TO YOU. 
 
 You do not love me? Well, then, perhaps 
 
 It is because you do not know me. 
 
 Whoever you are, wherever you may be, 
 
 If you could stand beside me this day 
 
 And, looking in upon my brain 
 
 Read there the lofty sentiments and grand 
 
 That forever formulate themselves 
 
 Into messages of love, and hope, and praise 
 
 That flash like living fire along the wires 
 
 Of my being for every living thing, 
 
 You would understand and love me. 
 
 If you could sit beside me today 
 
 As I ponder the woes of the world, 
 
 And, turning the tablets of my heart 
 
 Read thereon the sorrow, the yearning, 
 
 The indescribable sadness I feel 
 
 For the oppressed and suffering millions, 
 
 See how the pains of each man, woman and child 
 
 In the great slave markets of the world 
 
 Pierce my heart and leave their traces there, 
 
 How their woes become my burdens, 
 
 How the tragedies of their pitiful lives, 
 
 Like tumultuous waves o erwhelm me. 
 
 How the cry of the little children 
 
 Rings through the corridors of my soul 
 
 And reverberates from peak to peak, 
 
 From crag to crag, and up, and down the valleys 
 
 Of the perdition where I struggle with the strugglers 
 
 In a fierce contest for existence, 
 
 If you could so read, you would at least not hate me. 
 
 11 
 
Or if you could look back along the way I ve come, 
 
 See the awful nights of pain and anguish, 
 
 The Calvarys I ve climbed, the Gethsemanes known, 
 
 The storms I ve buffeted and battles fought, 
 
 See the suns that have set behind mountains of despair, 
 
 The flowers that have faded and fallen from my hand, 
 
 The unmarked graves where lie my buried hopes, 
 
 The wrecks and ruins of the castles I have built, 
 
 The seas where my ships have gone down, 
 
 The conflagration in which my joys were consumed, 
 
 You would know me better, and would pity me. 
 
 Again, if you could stand beside me today 
 
 And look, with me, out over the landscape of futurity, 
 
 See, as I do, the sun rising out of darkness 
 
 To light a glorious and eternal day, 
 
 The flowers bursting into beauty and bloom, 
 
 The resurrection morn of my buried hopes, 
 
 The peaceful ports where my ships lie anchored, 
 
 The glittering castles that tower above 
 
 The ruins of my former ones, 
 
 My joys that leaped unmarred from the furious flames, 
 
 If you could behold the bright mountain of resolve 
 
 Whereon I have reared an altar and placed myself 
 
 A living sacrifice to human good 
 
 (Unselfishly, if unselfishness to mortal be possible) 
 
 If you could see and know this as I do, 
 
 Feel the strong motives that move me, 
 
 You would rejoice with me in fellowship and good will, 
 
 Clasp my hand in the warm friendship I crave, 
 
 Press me to your bosom in sympathy and blessing, 
 
 Give me that which I am freely giving you, 
 
 And for which I so much long from you, Love. 
 
 12 
 
COSMIC CONSCIOUSNESS. 
 
 There are times when my conquering soul 
 
 Feels its divine mastership. 
 
 When I put all obstacles underneath my feet, 
 
 And, looking far out o er life s dominions 
 
 See clearly the meaning and majesty of all. 
 
 And in that hour details do not concern me, 
 
 But with one swift sweeping glance 
 
 I see and understand. 
 
 And in such moments what to me 
 
 Are earth s trivial disappointments, 
 
 The clamoring, surging sea of humanity 
 
 That tries, and fails and falls, 
 
 The sorrow, suffering, misery and death, 
 
 That blot the fair face of nature 
 
 And seemingly make of life a hideous nightmare? 
 
 Since to my soul is revealed in that quick glance 
 
 The cosmic life complete and whole, 
 
 And I know that all things tend toward the good. 
 
 That what appears an endless chain of disasters 
 
 Is but the process of evolution 
 
 That lifts all life to higher planes of consciousness. 
 
 IN THE VALLEY OF SHADOWS 
 
 I went down the Valley of Shadows, 
 Where the darkness of sickness lay, 
 
 The sun was hid by the mountains, 
 
 And I thought it would never come day. 
 
 Thick forests and marshy swamplands 
 Spread round me on every side, 
 
 13 
 
Where I felt as if venomous reptiles 
 In dark recesses might hide. 
 
 But is this all I saw in the valley? 
 
 Ah, no ! Strange lights beamed round me oft times, 
 And I saw, instead of this region 
 
 Most healthful and beautiful climes. 
 The lights seemed to come from the ocean 
 
 Of radiant, infinite light, 
 And for a few moments would scatter 
 
 The clouds of that terrible night. 
 
 And in that Valley of Shadows 
 
 I found I was never alone, 
 For oft when the way was darkest, 
 
 My loved ones, who long had been gone, 
 Would come forth out of the stillness 
 
 And silently walk by my side. 
 W r e talked, but our language was voiceless, 
 
 As thoughts on life s limitless tide. 
 
 I never had known till that journey, 
 
 Down into the Valley of Death, 
 Where the fever gripped my vitals 
 
 Almost stilled my heated breath 
 How close they lie together, 
 
 This world and that one there ! 
 How the shadows that darken this one 
 
 Burst forth into beauty there! 
 
 So closely lie these countries, 
 
 And so nearly are they one, 
 That when I walked in silence, 
 
 That vale without a sun, 
 My kindred souls from both worlds 
 
 14 
 
Most sweet communion found 
 As they worked and prayed together 
 On one common meeting ground. 
 
 They have borne me from the Valley, 
 
 On the golden waves of Love, 
 And I thank my blessed angels 
 
 Those on earth and those above 
 But I know they dwell together 
 
 Where the two worlds interblend, 
 And upon love s shining ladder 
 
 Everlastingly ascend. 
 
 LIBERTY 
 
 O. Liberty! peace crowned and beautiful, 
 
 Fairest goddess conceived by mortal mind, 
 
 Or fashioned by human hand; 
 
 Standing where the waves triumphant lash the shore, 
 
 Thy light doth shine on sea and land forevermore. 
 
 Liberty, fairest gem in earth s bright galaxy! 
 In all the ages men have dreamed of thee, 
 And longed to clasp thee in a close embrace, 
 But ever hast thou held aloof from earth, 
 Waiting for a nobler race to have its birth. 
 
 O, Goddess, fair! most holy and prophetic 
 
 Are the gleams that flash and stream 
 
 From the torch in thy majestic hand; 
 
 For promises are they that thou shalt one bright da> 
 
 Come to this greed-cursed land, to stay. 
 
 15 
 
Blest Liberty ! when thou shalt reign triumphant, 
 Woman and man shall both be free 
 None shall e er more bear the name of slave, 
 And this the land of freedom s noble fame, 
 Shall be worthy its illustrious name. 
 
 GERTRUDE AND GERALDINE 
 
 In the Springtime of my life, 
 
 While yet the flush of girlhood rouged my cheek, 
 
 From out the unfathomable past 
 
 You came forth unto me, my children, dear. 
 
 And oh, what joy, what mystery 
 
 Were folded up within your babyhood ! 
 
 Warm and soft, and precious as my life, 
 
 I pressed you to my bosom in ecstatic delight, 
 
 Gertrude and Geraldine. 
 
 And every day since then I have thanked 
 The giver of all good things for you. 
 Looking through the mists of futurity 
 He must have seen how much I should need you ; 
 For in the strange, changeful life I ve led 
 You two have stood like beacon lights 
 Upon the shore of my earthly existence, 
 Gertrude and Geraldine. 
 
 Or like angels of light, I have beheld you, 
 Whose fair white hands have reached me, 
 No matter where I have wandered. 
 Bereft of all in life but you, dear ones, 
 I have lived for you, worked for you, 
 And have borne you each day, my loves, 
 
 16 
 
To the holy shrine of thanksgiving and prayer, 
 And there have met with God, 
 Gertrude and Geraldine. 
 
 You have been my anchor in storm, 
 
 My light in darkness, and my hope; 
 
 My comfort, my inspiration, my counselors and guides, 
 
 Your little white hands pressed into mine, 
 
 In confidence, love and trust, 
 
 Have taught me the meaning of faith and trust in God, 
 
 Gertrude and Geraldine. 
 
 MEMORIES AND HOPE. 
 
 I watch the leaves of autumn 
 
 As slowly down they fall, 
 And they make me think of a vanished form 
 
 Now gone beyond recall. 
 
 I watch the Spring day flowers 
 
 And hear the bird notes sung, 
 And think of one I learned to love 
 
 When the Spring was fair and young. 
 
 I walk the streets, times often 
 
 Alone mid the busy throng, 
 And peer into each eager face 
 
 As it swiftly moves along; 
 
 Aye, scan their anxious faces, 
 
 I know not hardly why ; 
 But it seems as if I might see him 
 
 Among the passers-by. 
 
 17 
 
Sometimes in field or woodland 
 
 I think alone to roam, 
 And hold communion with my God 
 
 Beneath fair Nature s dome; 
 
 But with the swaying breezes, 
 
 And the brooklet s murmuring tone, 
 
 There comes a voice that seems to say, 
 "Think not you are alone." 
 
 Sometimes I watch the dancers 
 As they move to music s chime, 
 
 And I catch a glimpse of a face most dear, 
 I knew in a former time, 
 
 That sets my pulses thrilling, 
 
 And dizzy turns my head ; 
 But, then, I know it is not he, 
 
 For they tell me he is dead. 
 
 Yet the likeness sets me thinking 
 
 Of a ballroom in the past, 
 Where we whirled through the mazy dance 
 
 In bliss too sweet to last. 
 
 To church sometimes on Sundays 
 
 I take my weary way, 
 To hear the organ s solemn notes, 
 
 And with the people pray; 
 
 Then, while the mighty anthems 
 
 Make saddest souls rejoice , 
 I listen, for it seems to me 
 
 I hear a well known voice. 
 
 18 
 
(Sometimes around the old hearthstone 
 We meet at Christmastide 
 
 The brothers, sisters, parents, all 
 Now scattered far and wide, 
 
 And always when I look around 
 
 Upon that circle gay 
 My heart aches at the vacant seat 
 
 By me on Christmas day. 
 
 Sometime I ll cross the river, 
 And join the mig-hty throng, 
 
 And help them sing the chorus 
 In accents sweet and strong. 
 
 And when the organ s pealing, 
 
 My soul will then rejoice; 
 For I shall not be mistaken 
 
 I know I ll hear your voice. 
 
 And sometime over yonder 
 We ll meet at Christmastide, 
 
 The children and the parents 
 And loved ones true and tried; 
 
 And in that family circle 
 
 There ll be no vacant seat; 
 No hearts will then be aching, 
 
 For life will be complete. 
 
 ROBBIE AND JIM. 
 
 It was Thanksgiving Day in the morning. 
 The ground was all covered with sleet, 
 
 19 
 
And two little children were standing 
 Half clad in the slippery street. 
 
 Their faces were pinched and haggard ; 
 Their figures were dwarfed by the cold, 
 
 And, while they in years were but children, 
 Each visage looked careworn and old. 
 
 "I should like to eat dinner in that house," 
 
 Said Robbie to poor little Jim, 
 As he pointed toward a grand mansion 
 
 With a finger all bony and slim; 
 "I know they ll have turkey and good things, 
 
 Cause yesterday evenin , quite late, 
 I saw them a-bringin the things in 
 
 As I waited beside the back gate. 
 
 "I was hungry and cold, and twas rainin , 
 
 My papers hung here at my side, 
 For I felt too tired to sell em, 
 
 And so all the day had not tried. 
 A lady came where I was standin 
 
 And told me to run on away, 
 But I said: Tlease, ma am, I m hungry; 
 
 I ve had nothing to eat this whole day. 
 
 " Oh, will you not give me a penny 
 
 To buy just a morsel of bread, 
 For there s no one to love and feed me 
 
 Since dear, pretty mamma is dead? 
 But she said : Go long away with you ! 
 
 I ve nothing for beggars tonight. 
 So then I crept home and found you, Jim, 
 
 And slept till the broad daylight." 
 
 "Robbie," spoke Jim, with a gesture, 
 20 
 
"I can remember quite well 
 When papa and mamma were livin 
 
 We had things awfully swell ! 
 We lived in a neat, pretty cottage 
 
 Right up in the best of the town, 
 And our Thanksgivin dinner, I tell you, 
 
 Was always done up brown. 
 
 "Then my papa somehow got to drinkin 
 
 And soon our nice dwellin was gone, 
 While all our silver and jewelry 
 
 My mamma had to pawn. 
 One night they came carryin papa 
 
 All bleedin and pale from a wound. 
 He died and then was buried 
 
 Way down in the cold, damp ground. 
 
 "Then my mamma took to pinin , 
 
 Or that s what the neighbors said, 
 And one morn when I went to kiss her 
 
 She was dreadfully pale; yes, dead! 
 And while the snowdrops were fallin 
 
 And the wind was a-goin oo, oo! 
 They took her off to the graveyard 
 
 And buried her away, too. 
 
 "Since then I ve been sellin papers 
 
 And runnin on errands for bread, 
 But many s the time, dear Robbie, 
 
 I ve gone hungry and cold to my bed. 
 And I was so lonely at night time 
 
 That I called for poor mamma, tho dead, 
 Until I found you in the street there 
 
 And asked, you to sleep in my bed. 
 
 21 
 
"Now, just see here what I ve been savin 
 
 (Holding out a purse, greasy and slim) 
 All to buy a Thanksgivin dinner 
 
 For poor little Robbie and Jim. 
 Of course, they ll have turkey and good things 
 
 In that big, fine house cross the street, 
 But think, we ll have salted peanuts 
 
 And popcorn, just all we can eat. 
 
 "And if we have enough money 
 
 We ll call for a piece of mince pie. 
 Come, Robbie, and let us be goin . 
 
 Won t that be a-livin high?" 
 And his partner, in sickness and hunger, 
 
 He seized and hurried away 
 To the joys so long anticipated, 
 
 Of a dinner on Thanksgiving Day. 
 
 Now, the story of these little children 
 
 Is the story of human life 
 A tale of troubles and heartaches, 
 
 Of struggles in earth s weary strife. 
 The woman within the grand mansion 
 
 Represents that class, who today 
 Oppress and defraud the masses, 
 
 And then hypocritically pray 
 
 That God will have mercy on them ; 
 
 And save them from Satan and Sin 
 And open the doors of His kingdom 
 
 To let the poor sufferers in. 
 But the Christ lifted up the fallen, 
 
 And healed the lame and the blind, 
 And taught the wonderful lessons 
 
 Of how to cure body and mind. 
 
 22 
 
He reached out His hand to the children, 
 
 Bidding- them to be happy and whole, 
 And said : "Of such is the Kingdom 
 
 Of Heaven," the infolded soul. 
 In this world there are many urchins 
 
 Like poor little Robbie and Jim, 
 But does anyone think to liken 
 
 The Kingdom of Heaven to them? 
 
 THE SOUL KNOWETH ITS OWN 
 
 I knew you when I met you 
 
 Recognized your soul-lit face 
 And the form tall, straight and supple, 
 
 With its slender, manly grace 
 Had you been already wedded 
 
 By ten thousand earthly ties, 
 Yet my soul would hold and claim you 
 
 For its own in paradise. 
 
 As the maiden by the seaside 
 
 Looks out o er the tossing main 
 For the longed-for ship s returning 
 
 That would bring her loved again, 
 So I ve looked across life s desert 
 
 Cross its surging, restless sea 
 For the ship of sea or desert 
 
 That would bring my own to me. 
 
 In my dreams I ve stood beside you 
 On the sun-kissed hills of life, 
 
 Left all earthly cares behind me, 
 All the world s unfriendly strife, 
 
 23 
 
And our souls have interblended 
 
 In a sweet, entrancing bliss ! 
 In a union blessed by angels, 
 
 In one grand eternal kiss." 
 
 Today my soul s prophetic vision 
 
 Scans the realms of time and space, 
 And I know that way out yonder 
 
 I shall meet you face to face; 
 That you ll know me at that meeting, 
 
 By the joys of other days, 
 When we roamed in bliss together 
 
 Through the long Olamic days. 
 
 Lonely through earth life I ve wondered, 
 
 And I thought you had not come 
 Down from those bright field Elysian, 
 
 Through this saddened life to roam; 
 And my heart had grown so senseless 
 
 To the pleading tone of love, 
 That I feared it ne er would waken 
 
 Tho you called me from above. 
 
 But, ah, me ! when first I saw you 
 
 How my heart stood still with joy! 
 And I realized the power 
 
 Of a love time can t destroy. 
 Then I knew my soul was chastened 
 
 By the mighty fires of love ; 
 That God s hand had sealed our union 
 
 At an altar high above. 
 
 In the grand eternal future 
 
 You shall know me as your own, 
 And may read the runic record 
 
 24 
 
When your cares away are thrown, 
 Of two lives in one life blended 
 
 By the mighty powers that be, 
 And you ll love me, aye, and call me, 
 
 As my soul calleth now for thee. 
 
 Out o er hill and dale and mountain, 
 
 Steals my soul away tonight, 
 Seeking through the mists and shadows, 
 
 Through the darkness and the light, 
 For its own, for thee, beloved, 
 
 Since no force hath power to keep 
 Soul from unto soul low calling, 
 
 "Deep from answering unto deep." 
 
 All the sounds of sweet, sad music, 
 
 That so oft my soul o erflow, 
 Are the memories of the age-long 
 
 Life with you, where radiant glow 
 Gems of purest thought and music 
 
 Mongst the scenes of angel land 
 Where we ll wander yet, my darling 
 
 Heart to heart and hand in hand. 
 
 THE WAYFARER S QUERY. 
 
 O, what is the meaning of life, 
 With its endless routine of strife, 
 Its hopes and fears, 
 Disappointments and tears, 
 O, what is the meaning of life? 
 
 The soul, how it sighs and sings! 
 25 
 
Like a harp of ten thousand strings, 
 
 Like the moan of the sea, 
 
 Or the rain on the lea, 
 
 The saddest of all sad things. 
 
 How we long always to be glad, 
 
 Yet oftenest we are sad ; 
 
 For the joys that we crave 
 
 We are given a grave 
 
 With its heap of fresh dirt and a slab. 
 
 And, O, how we long for love ! 
 The completeness of life to prove; 
 How we stretch our hands 
 Cross the weary lands 
 For the freedom of carrier dove. 
 
 Then tell me, O sage, if you can, 
 
 The why of life s intricate plan. 
 
 The sensitive soul, 
 
 O, its mysteries unroll; 
 
 Explain them, O sage, if you can. 
 
 A PICTURE OR FARM LIFE 
 
 I can never quite get over 
 
 Bein raised upon a farm, 
 And around that old log farm house 
 
 There lingers many a charm; 
 So when the days get shorter, 
 
 And a chill is in the air, 
 I kinder have a longin 
 
 And a wishin I was there. 
 
 26 
 
I can ne er forget my father 
 
 When we lived on the farm, 
 And I trudged to the school house 
 
 (That school house has a charm). 
 How, when the day was rainy, 
 
 Or it snowed, I d see im come 
 A-gallopin on Jacob, 
 
 Our horse, to take me home. 
 
 Then when the day was ended, 
 And the teacher turned us out, 
 We d grab our shawls and buckets, 
 
 Play tag, and sing and shout, 
 Until I d hear my father 
 
 Say: " Laura, come, let s go." 
 Then with me up behind him 
 
 We d go boundin o er the snow. 
 
 And when the horse went faster, 
 
 My father d reach his arm 
 Right back and hold me to im 
 
 All the way out to the farm, 
 And ne er have I felt safer 
 
 From fallin or from harm, 
 Than when my father held me 
 
 With his strong and lovin arm. 
 
 And then those winter evenin s 
 The supper and the games; 
 The marks made in the ashes, 
 
 And called our sweetheart s names 
 The tales told round the fireside, 
 
 The apples thawin there, 
 The crackin nuts and laughter, 
 
 Are remembrances most dear. 
 
 27 
 
The Springtime with its flowers, 
 
 Its openin buds and trees. 
 The Summer with its wheatfields, 
 
 Its clover and its bees; 
 And then the Autumn golden, 
 
 When apple, peach and pear 
 Hung temptingly above us 
 
 In abundance rich and rare. 
 
 These, and a thousand others, 
 
 Are the blessin and the charms 
 That meet and greet the children, 
 
 Who are reared upon the farms. 
 They re healthy and they re happy, 
 
 Their cheeks are full and pink ; 
 Their minds are strong and active; 
 
 They have the power to think. 
 
 No, I never can get over 
 
 Bein raised upon a farm ; 
 And, if I had it in my power 
 
 I m sure twould do no harm 
 I d gather all poor children 
 
 Who in cities now reside, 
 And o er this broad, fair country 
 
 Would scatter far and wide. 
 
 I d take these millions acres 
 
 And turn em into farms, 
 With houses neat and roomy, 
 
 With horses, sheds and barns, 
 With implements for farmin , 
 
 And men to till the land, 
 That all who lived upon em 
 
 Great plenty could command. 
 
 28 
 
Then all the sufrerin millions, 
 
 Of homeless and distressed, 
 Now crowded in large cities, 
 
 Pale, sickly and oppressed ; 
 I d snatch from out those hovels 
 
 Where hopelessly they dwell 
 To fill these homes of comfort 
 
 And happiness compel. 
 
 T would do me good to see em 
 
 Standin out among the trees, 
 Where the bobolinks were singin , 
 
 Where they d feel the balmy breeze ; 
 Where the sun could shine upon em, 
 
 And each day bring forth its charm. 
 Oh, there s nothin else like growin 
 
 Up from childhood on the farm. 
 
 Whether in the cot or palace, 
 
 Wheresoe er my footsteps roam, 
 Mid life s scenes of joy or sorrow, 
 
 Comes a memory of that home, 
 And I know when these reflections 
 
 Bring their sweet and sacred charm, 
 I can never quite get over 
 
 Bein raised upon a farm. 
 
 LOVE 
 
 O, Love, divine, from portals high, 
 
 Descend on us this day; 
 Light up our pathway here below 
 
 29 
 
With thy transcendent ray; 
 Baptize us with the rainbow hues 
 
 That bathe fair Heaven s dome, 
 And wreathe thy richest garlands round 
 
 Our country and our home. 
 
 For what were life without 
 
 Thy sweet, entrancing, soothing balm. 
 What else but thee could compensate 
 
 The soul for griefs that come, 
 And storms that sweep in maddening rage 
 
 Our trembling being o er, 
 Leaving the wreckage tossed and strewn 
 
 Upon a barren shore? 
 
 For when the soul is tempest tossed, 
 
 Amid the breakers roar, 
 Tis Love points out the beacon lights 
 
 Along the distant shore. 
 Love whispers hope, "Hope sees a star," 
 
 E en when the mist hang low 
 And casts the sunshine on the cloud 
 
 Where smiles the welcome bow. 
 
 And "listening Love" hath caught the sound 
 
 Of angels rustling wings, 
 And looks across the chasm of death, 
 
 Beyond earth s troublous things, 
 And sees again the golden chain 
 
 Of sympathy sublime," 
 Binding in one all kindred souls, 
 
 Eternity and time. 
 
 For height, nor depth, nor space, nor time, 
 Nor any powers that be, 
 
 30 
 
Can separate the souls that love, 
 
 Or keep thine own from thee. 
 Amid the eternal ways we stand 
 
 Where tempests fret and moan, 
 But e en through death or what may come, 
 The soul shall claim its own. 
 
 MY CASTLE 
 
 I built a castle, grand and fair, 
 Whose turrets gleamed high in the air. 
 Then fancy on her shining wings 
 Bore me away in search of things 
 With which to decorate its walls, 
 And folks to promenade its halls. 
 I brought all that I held most dear 
 My sad and lonely heart to cheer, 
 Placed him I loved upon its throne, 
 And called it all my very own. 
 
 One night there came an awful gale, 
 While we, all trembling, scared and pale, 
 Knelt down and tried to pray and trust 
 In God, and perish if we must. 
 And when twas o er, my house, I found, 
 Was torn and tumbled to the ground; 
 My idols all had found a tomb 
 Beneath its ruin, wreck and gloom. 
 
 "Mourn not thy castle in the air," 
 A voice spoke from I know not where. 
 "Its walls were frail and could not stand 
 The storms that blow o er this strange land. 
 
 31 
 
Take up the burden at thy door, 
 Toil on and count thyself not poor, 
 And when thou comest to yon bright hill 
 Rapture and joy thy soul shall fill." 
 
 I said then I shall cease to build, 
 Be passive where before I ve willed, 
 And let supernal love suggest 
 That which for me will be best. 
 O, God ! I cannot stand alone ! 
 There s nothing that is all my own, 
 I m part of one great Over Soul 
 Who doth my destiny control. 
 
 Then lo ! upon a hill-crest bright, 
 Loomed a castle grand and white, 
 And the voice spoke gently as before, 
 Saying: "This shall stand forevermore. 
 Its marble walls and chambers vast 
 Were fashioned in the eternal past, 
 And all that round thy soul doth cling, 
 To this fair temple thou shalt bring. 
 The house of air, see why it fell? 
 That thou shonldst come to this to dwell. 
 
 MEDITATION 
 
 I know that as long as I live 
 
 In this land where the teardrops flow, 
 That angels will hold my hand 
 
 32 
 
In my wanderings to and fro 
 That no day can be so dark 
 
 But a light on me will fall ; 
 No night so full of pain 
 
 But that love will sweeten all. 
 
 Though the road be strewn with thorns, 
 
 Over which my feet must tread, 
 And the goal of my earthly life 
 
 Seems the earning of daily bread ; 
 Yet the thorns will wither away, 
 
 And roses for me will bloom, 
 And above earth s sordid gains 
 
 The goal of my quest shall loom. 
 
 Earth has no sorrow so great 
 
 As to crush me with utter despair; 
 No burden it can impose 
 
 That I am unable to bear; 
 For I know that my bark must touch 
 
 Every dark or shimmering shore 
 Must learn to anchor safe, 
 
 Be calm mid the breakers roar. 
 
 And e en when I tread the vale, 
 
 Where death leads down to the grave, 
 With joy I shall hail that day, 
 
 And palms of victory wave; 
 For I know that the tides of life 
 
 On a fairer shore will break 
 When I lay this body down 
 
 An immortal one to take. 
 
 33 
 
TO GERTRUDE. 
 
 You are gone from my sight 
 
 Blessed child of my youth, 
 
 And my soul weeps on Calvary s Hill, 
 
 While I sigh mid the clouds 
 
 And the blackness of night, 
 
 For the sound of a voice that is still. 
 
 First born of my love 
 
 Fare you well, fare you well ! 
 
 How can I live on without you 
 
 When your sweet angel presence 
 
 God lent from above 
 
 No more in this world I shall know. 
 
 It seemed all a dream 
 
 When I stood by your bier 
 
 And beheld your pale beautiful face, 
 
 Your hands like white marble 
 
 So shapely and fair, 
 
 At rest in their maidenly grace. 
 
 That mayhap I should wake 
 
 To find you still here 
 
 The terrible nightmare forgot; 
 
 But alas ! twas not dreaming. 
 
 My heart seems to break 
 
 While I wait for a form that comes not. 
 
 Not the grief of despair 
 
 Do I feel ; for I know 
 
 That my darling one is not dead 
 
 That she s only arisen 
 
 34 
 
Transcendently fair 
 
 Like a bride to her love to be wed. 
 
 O would I could see 
 You today, blessed one, 
 Embraced by an ocean of love, 
 Happy and free in the realm of song, 
 Where your soul longed to be, 
 In your home far above. 
 
 Not one drop of bliss 
 
 Do I grudge you, dear child, 
 
 In the plains your soul loves the best 
 
 Nor would I recall you 
 
 Again unto this 
 
 Where you were so often distressed. 
 
 But sometimes, dear child, 
 
 When my spirit grows calm, 
 
 And the shadows of twilight descend, 
 
 O may you not waft me 
 
 A message of love, 
 
 Surcease of my sorrow to lend? 
 
 TRUSTING 
 
 When winds and waves are raging 
 
 Through every threadbare sail, 
 And my bark seems most unlikely 
 
 To stem the powerful gale, 
 I drop my oars, am quiet, 
 
 And say : Let come what will, 
 All safe in the arms Infinite, 
 
 I know I am resting still. 
 
 35 
 
E en though my boat is stranded, 
 
 And the wild waves dash me o er, 
 I yet shall make my moorings 
 
 Upon some other shore ; 
 Or if the worlds should crumble, 
 
 And back to chaos fall, 
 Serene, unhurt, undaunted, 
 
 I would triumph over all. 
 
 No matter where I wander 
 
 On desert-land, or sea, 
 Or out and on for ages, 
 
 In the blue immensity 
 I shall not be lost nor injured, 
 
 For the Father s hand will guide, 
 And within the love unfailing, 
 
 I shall evermore abide. 
 
 For since I m part and parcel 
 
 Of the great Eternal Whole, 
 I d as soon think God could perish 
 
 As that I could lose my soul ; 
 Or that height or depth or distance, 
 
 Or any powers that be, 
 Could intercept the current 
 
 That bears my own to me. 
 
 The hand that guides the wild bird 
 
 Through trackless seas of air 
 To fields in sunny Southlands, 
 
 With matchless skill and care, 
 I know will guide my footsteps 
 
 In paths my feet should tread ; 
 In the only royal highway 
 
 I know I shall be led. 
 
 36 
 
I AM. 
 
 I am from everlasting to everlasting, 
 Always was and ever shall be, 
 When the morning stars sang together 
 And the worlds sailed forth in glee 
 I was present, beheld their creation, 
 I ! boundless, eternal and free ! 
 
 I am the truth all embracing, 
 I am all that was, is, or can be, 
 I am the fount of all knowledge, 
 The universe in epitome, 
 I am, my friend, what you are, 
 And you are undoubtedly me. 
 
 And this is the reason, my brother, 
 Your sorrow pierces my soul 
 As we journey and struggle together 
 Where the wheels of experience roll, 
 And we get not a perfect perception 
 Of the truth and the path to our goal. 
 
 So rise in your majesty, brother! 
 Stand up and claim your own. 
 Why feed on husks any longer, 
 Why wander sad and alone, 
 For you are the truth all sufficient 
 And all that there is, is your own. 
 
 I ll arise and go to my Father, 
 His richest robes I ll don, 
 In His house I ll rest and feast me 
 While the gladsome years roll on. 
 Mine is His boundless kingdom, 
 For the Father and I are one. 
 
 37 
 
Poems of the Revolution 
 
 THE DAWN IN THE EAST. 
 
 "Darkest Russia" ! through thy fading gloom 
 
 1 see the red splendor of the new day dawn. 
 While o er all the world the black 
 
 Angel of death and destruction 
 
 Has spread his wings, and ugly vultures 
 
 Jostle each other in their mad scramble for prey, 
 
 And while the people, horror stricken, 
 
 Wait in mute despair for the worst to come, 
 
 I search the heavens and earth 
 
 For one ray of hope or joy, 
 
 And find it, O Russia, in thee. 
 
 Like the Aurora Borealis 
 
 The light of thy revolution 
 
 Blazes up over the northern sky; 
 
 And, in mysterious manner, 
 
 Piercing the darkness of night 
 
 Sends its radiant beams to the uttermost 
 
 Parts of the earth. 
 
 In thy determination to stand 
 
 For Industrial Freedom 
 
 Even tho the armies of imperialism 
 
 Thunder at thy gates and invade 
 
 Thy borders, thou hast stirred 
 
 The spirit of hope and admiration 
 
 In the breast of the toilers of all lands. 
 
 And as the Armageddon draws nearer, 
 
 38 
 
And the gloom of the nations thickens, 
 
 We turn our eyes to the north, 
 
 And watch for the rosy hues 
 
 To penetrate and scatter the night. 
 
 Down all the stretch of history 
 
 To the present time there has been 
 
 No such spectacle ! Millions have 
 
 Fought and died for freedom so called, 
 
 But never so many millions 
 
 Of the oppressed working men and women 
 
 At any time, in any land, 
 
 Have thrown off their shackles, 
 
 And defied the ruling class 
 
 With all its military strength 
 
 To put them down, or force them to retreat. 
 
 O, Russia ! land of the knout, the dungeon and 
 
 Siberia 
 
 May the "Holy War" make possible 
 The realization of thy dream. 
 To arms ! To arms ! Ye people. 
 Thine is a righteous cause; 
 And neither Hun, nor Jap, 
 Nor all the Turks of Turkey, can prevail 
 Against Thee when thou shalt rise 
 In the might and majesty 
 Of thy awakened millions. 
 And what is it thou dost demand? 
 Only that all shall be free 
 To work, to live, to love, and enjoy 
 The fruits of their labor. 
 That the land, and all of those things 
 Necessary to the common weal 
 Shall be free. That no man shall be 
 Slave to another ; but that all 
 Shall have equal opportunity for 
 
 39 
 
The fullest expression of the true self. 
 
 That human plants in the garden of God 
 
 Shall never more be deprived of the 
 
 Elements necessary to their perfect growth. 
 
 Thou hast thy quarrel just, Dear Russia, 
 
 Now dark no more ; for thou art emancipated 
 
 From slavery, and nothing else matters. 
 
 Thou wilt find a way to victory o er thy foes. 
 
 In my imagination I can see the spirits 
 
 Of the millions who have died in exile 
 
 Or under the bloody lash along 
 
 The corpse strewn road to Siberia. 
 
 Rise and gather to battle with those 
 
 Who now struggle to be free. 
 
 O, that the "Holy War" may spread 
 
 To all nations and wipe forever from 
 
 The face of the earth, Capitalism, 
 
 With its profiteering, its prisons, 
 
 Its slums, its poverty, its war and woe. 
 
 THE BOLSHEVIKI. 
 
 All hail to thee! Bolsheviki, 
 
 Ye sons of toil, all hail ! 
 
 You are on the track, you can t turn back, 
 
 You are right, you cannot fail. 
 
 Oh Red Guards brave, you have come to save 
 
 The world, and make men free 
 
 From the "Iron Heel". Let tyrants feel 
 
 Your power for liberty. 
 
 I pray for thee, Bolsheviki 
 Sons of a land oppressed 
 
 40 
 
You rise at last from an awful past 
 
 And start on your noble quest. 
 
 May your haughty foe be forced to go ! 
 
 Let him bow to your sovereign will. 
 
 If he would be fed let him earn his bread, 
 
 Would he live let him pay the bill. 
 
 May old things pass, and the working class 
 
 Take charge of the earth, most fair, 
 
 The strong arm of might be coupled with righ t 
 
 In Russia and everywhere. 
 
 May your armies be blest till that class is suppressed 
 
 Who have held you in slavery s thrall 
 
 Till their voices are hushed, their authority crushed 
 
 And freedom s flag waves over all. 
 
 Then success to thee ! Bolsheviki, 
 
 And Red Guards true and brave 
 
 You are pointing the way to a better day 
 
 To the freedom of the slave. 
 
 O that my eyes may behold the rise 
 
 Of the great majority 
 
 In every land to take their stand 
 
 For God and humanity. 
 
 The following poem was written and published 
 two years before the great war began, and while the 
 world was practically at peace. 
 
 A VISION. 
 
 On the heights of the world, where its flags unfurled 
 Gave token of prowess and might, 
 I stood to behold a scene unfold, 
 
 41 
 
A solemn and awful sight: 
 
 The thunders of war sounded near and far, 
 
 And the storm-cloud hovered low, 
 
 The eagles screamed, and the war-knife gleamed 
 
 Athwart the reddening glow. 
 
 For the time had come for the fife and drum 
 To call the millions forth, 
 More power to bring to Mammon, the King, 
 Through the nations of the earth. 
 On they came, in His glorious name, 
 The ranks of the uniformed braves, 
 They fought and died, or were crucified, 
 And slept in forgotten graves. 
 
 The King and Czar looked on from afar, 
 
 And Emperors and Presidents, 
 
 From safe retreats, in their lofty seats, 
 
 Looked down on the battlements, 
 
 While counsellors, wise, watched the fall and rise 
 
 Of the struggling, battling throng, 
 
 The gain or loss of their monied boss, 
 
 Their country ! right or wrong. 
 
 The armies grew, and the missiles flew, 
 
 And rivers of blood ran deep ; 
 
 Such carnage and hate the Devil would sate, 
 
 Or make the angels weep ; 
 
 But Mammon is bold, and his heart is cold, 
 
 And Shylock must have his pound, 
 
 So there is no peace, but the wars increase 
 
 Till they reach the whole world round. 
 
 But hark ! Arise ! There s a light in the skies, 
 And an army stands out on the field ; 
 
 42 
 
They carry no gun, nor march, nor run, 
 
 But, like iron, they will not yield. 
 
 Tis the Labor band, who now command 
 
 That war shall be no more ; 
 
 The king, accursed, shall lie in the dust, 
 
 His reign of terror o er. 
 
 "They feed the world, they clothe the world," 
 
 These women and children and men ; 
 
 They furnish their sons, and fashion the guns, 
 
 Ere a battle can begin. 
 
 They pull the train, and plough the main, 
 
 Bearing death neath their sinewy hands, 
 
 Transporting troops in battle-sloops 
 
 O er the seas to many lands. 
 
 And the victory, for whom shall it be? 
 
 Will it free the serfs and slaves 
 
 When the boys from the mass of the working-class 
 
 Are sleeping in soldiers graves? 
 
 Ah, no ! they fight not for the right 
 
 Of their own class to enjoy 
 
 The fruit of their toil, but over spoil 
 
 Where vultures black shall prey. 
 
 Then, down with the flags, those fluttering rags, 
 
 The emblems of plunder and greed, 
 
 For a banner, unfurled, shall cover the world, 
 
 And the millions shall be freed! 
 
 Thus Labor spoke, and the battle-smoke 
 
 Of the centuries cleared away, 
 
 The war-drum ceased, and the slaves, released, 
 
 Walked forth to the light of day. 
 
 43 
 
RESTITUTION AND RETRIBUTION. 
 
 "O, masters, Lords, and rulers in all lands" 
 What will you do on that tomorrow 
 When the "Dumb Terror" shall arise 
 And confront you with your record, 
 Calling you to account for your stewardship. 
 What explanation can you make 
 To that innumerable company 
 Of disinherited children of toil 
 When they turn upon you, and 
 Demand restitution at your hands? 
 
 How will you account to them 
 
 For the lands you have stolen from them 
 
 And held out of use, while they, 
 
 Landless, and homeless, were forced 
 
 To pay you with their heart s blood, 
 
 Rents for enough of the earth 
 
 On which to produce your living and theirs? 
 
 What legal technicality will you present 
 
 When they demand that you relinquish 
 
 The land, their birthright, and 
 
 The wealth they have created 
 
 Even to the last farthing? 
 
 Will there be any argument when 
 
 The Red Guards and Bolsheviki 
 
 Of the world have their hands at your throat? 
 
 Not as now will it be, a disarmed, 
 
 Disorganized proletariat 
 
 Facing the military powers 
 
 Of a haughty, slave driving class 
 
 But an aroused, united working class 
 
 44 
 
Those who wield the implements of labor 
 Joined with their brothers who carry the guns 
 Soldiers and Workmen s Councils 
 Whose deliberations shall guide the world 
 What will you have to say to them? 
 
 You will have nothing to say ! 
 
 You will restore the world to the people 
 
 Not because you want to do so 
 
 But because you will have it to do. 
 
 And when that day comes, and 
 
 The earth is shaken from center to circumference 
 
 With the tread of the victorious hosts, 
 
 And you feel the earthquake shocks 
 
 In the valley of dry bones of Capitalism, 
 
 You will call for the rocks and mountains 
 
 To hide you from the face of him 
 
 W r ho sitteth upon the throne Labor! 
 
 And you will have no power over Him 
 
 For he feeds, clothes, and shelters the world. 
 
 You will either march under his banner 
 
 And become one with him or starve. 
 
 Parasites cannot enter his kingdom, 
 
 At last he is awake, and knows his strength, 
 
 And when he lays his mighty hand 
 
 .Upon the rusty locks and iron bars 
 
 Of your prisons, wrenching away 
 
 The last barrier that confines humans 
 
 In a living tomb, setting your captives free, 
 
 And when your dens of thieves are broken down, 
 
 Your courts of injustice abolished, 
 
 Your rotten parliaments dissolved, 
 
 Your satanic business schemes for robbing 
 
 Labor and each other, forever at an end 
 
 45 
 
What will there be for you, What will you do? 
 
 Yes, you will make restitution to the poor, 
 
 But you cannot heal the wounds you have made 
 
 Nor undo the wrongs you have done. 
 
 You cannot give back the lives lost 
 
 In your wars for greed and gold, 
 
 Nor repair the bent and broken bodies 
 
 Of those who have toiled to make you profits. 
 
 Behold the stunted, misshapen human race ! 
 
 The starved degenerate wrecks 
 
 Upon the sea of life! 
 
 For these you are responsible, 
 
 Look at them and answer! 
 
 What will you do? 
 
 AN APPEAL TO THE PROLETARIAT. 
 
 Arouse from your slumbers, ye vagrants ! 
 Look up from your labor, O slave! 
 A world in distress and destruction 
 Implores you its children to save. 
 Adown all the blood-crimsoned ages 
 You ve been beaten, and robbed, and ignored; 
 To those who waxed fat from your labor 
 You were cattle the rabble the horde. 
 
 And when, from the beasts thickest jungle, 
 
 Where greed fought fiercest for prey, 
 
 And the grim, ghastly demon of hunger 
 
 Stalked abroad through the land night and day, 
 
 You have started the fires of rebellion, 
 
 Declared for freedom and right, 
 
 The powerful mailed fist of the masters 
 
 46 
 
Has crushed you with pitiless might. 
 
 You have languished in horrible prisons, 
 
 You have died on Siberia s plains, 
 
 On your bones rest the thrones of the kingdoms, 
 
 Your blood every altar stains; 
 
 Like sheep, you ve been led to the slaughter, 
 
 And, childlike, you ve wept and obeyed, 
 
 Because you believed you were helpless, 
 
 And of gods, kings and priests were afraid. 
 
 And the world swung round in its orbit, 
 
 Hastening on to a terrible fall 
 
 Of the Lords, who, wining and feasting, 
 
 Saw not the hand on the wall. 
 
 It has come the end of their power 
 
 Their kingdoms in pieces shall lie ; 
 
 In the war they have spread o er the nations 
 
 They themselves shall perish and die. 
 
 So the world turns to you for salvation, 
 Ye toilers, ye erstwhile despised, 
 For you hold the key to the kingdoms, 
 Though this you have not realized; 
 You furnish the fatness of tyrants, 
 You fashion the sword and the gun, 
 You can say to the hordes of destruction : 
 "The work of King Mammon is done." 
 
 O stand in your ranks, men and women, 
 A phalanx unbroken and true 
 Humanity groans and travails, 
 Its deliverance depends upon you. 
 You have nourished a monster to sting you, 
 Now build you a system sublime, 
 Where no ruler nor robber can harbor 
 Through the years of the future time! 
 
 47 
 
THE DEATH IN THE COTTAGE. 
 
 I passed by the door of a cottage 
 
 Where a woman lay dying, they said, 
 Of a fever brought on by starvation 
 
 While not able to work for her bread. 
 Three children sat weeping beside her 
 
 Pale, pinched little faces they bore, 
 And tatters and rags, soiled and grimy, 
 
 Were the clothing the little ones wore. 
 
 Tis said that grim Death, the much-dreaded, 
 
 Comes alike to the rich and the poor, 
 That all with his gloom is enshrouded 
 
 Wherever he enters the door; 
 But wealth robes its corpse in fine raiment, 
 
 And ladens with flowers the rich tomb, 
 While poverty wraps a coarse mantle 
 
 And buries wherever there s room. 
 
 A few people stopped by the doorway, 
 
 And looked on the sorrowful scene, 
 With grief tugging hard at their heartstrings, 
 
 For all are not hardened and mean, 
 And some seemed anxious to aid her 
 
 As stifled and short grew her breath. 
 Ah, how we are touched and softened 
 
 In the terrible presence of death ! 
 
 I thought as I looked and pondered, 
 This last and most pitiful scene, 
 
 In the miserable life of a woman, 
 Of all that it really did mean. 
 
 It means there are hundreds, aye, thousands, 
 
 48 
 
No matter how much they may try, 
 Who cannot afford here a being, 
 Neither can they afford to die. 
 
 Not able to work, they told me; 
 
 Belonged to no order, she d said; 
 Not able to pay the dues monthly, 
 
 And the husband and father was dead. 
 The groceryman and the landlord 
 
 Had worried her with their bills 
 Until she had grown unconscious, 
 
 For this is the brief that kills. 
 
 Oh, where will they lay her poor body? 
 
 Who ll plant a sweet flower on her grave, 
 And who will reach out a hand kindly 
 
 Her three little children to save? 
 O, God ! if it be that the angels 
 
 O er the earth their kind vigils keep, 
 Methinks that such scenes by them witnessed 
 
 Would cause even angels to weep. 
 
 How long, O, how long, I do wonder, 
 
 Will a system so foul still obtain, 
 That makes him or her the earth s chosen 
 
 Who only full coffers can gain ; 
 That gives to the few all the houses, 
 
 The silver, the gold and the lands, 
 And turns out the millions as paupers, 
 
 To sink in life s awful quicksands? 
 
 A system that s founded on hatred, 
 That makes every brother a foe; 
 
 And kindles the fires of hell s kingdom 
 In this beautiful world below; 
 
 49 
 
That leaves to starvation a sister, 
 Like her of whom we have said, 
 Lay dying within a poor cottage, 
 While her children were famished for bread? 
 
 A WOMAN S PRAYER 
 
 A woman, pale, at close of day, 
 Knelt where a dying baby lay. 
 And prayed to God to spare her child 
 From hunger s torture, fierce and wild. 
 O, Christ, Thou who didst love the poor, 
 Come near, I pray, my humble door! 
 Thou who didst make the water wine, 
 From fish and loaf bid thousands dine, 
 Give bread this day to me and mine! 
 
 For days and days my weary feet 
 
 Have trudged about from street to street, 
 
 Where I have begged for work, not bread, 
 
 Until my heart sank down like lead, 
 
 And oft I wished that I were dead. 
 
 A hundred times the angry frown 
 
 Of employer has cast me down, 
 
 And empty-handed, sick and sore, 
 
 I ve sought again my hovel door. 
 
 I ve seen my children, once so hale, 
 From want of food grow thin and pale. 
 And now, as fades the waning light, 
 My darling s soul goes home tonight. 
 O, God! is it for this we re born, 
 To tread the winepress, sad, forlorn, 
 
 50 
 
And in a land of greed and gold, 
 (Starve as the felons did of old? 
 
 There is no famine in the land ; 
 Vast riches from Thy loving hand 
 Are poured out lavishly each day, 
 Yet he must want who cannot pay. 
 Pay who? Not Thee, O, Lord, not Thee. 
 Are not Thy bounties, full and free? 
 Pay those who claim the land and gold, 
 While millions of Thy children slave 
 Or beg for that Thou freely gave. 
 
 They say this is a Christian land, 
 And church spires rise up tall and grand, 
 While hosts of people meet to pray, 
 And praise Thee every Sabbath day. 
 Yet e en within the sacred shade 
 Of chapel dome dire want is laid 
 With vise-like grip on youth and age 
 Until we find our printed page 
 Becomes a record sheet of crime, 
 Despite Thy life and words sublime. 
 
 O, God ! if it be true that right 
 Shall triumph and at last make might, 
 Then let earth s wrongs be swept away, 
 And righteousness shine in like day. 
 Forbid that ere the sun should rise 
 On starving babes and weeping eyes, 
 Where mothers, bent with aching head, 
 Beg for a chance to toil for bread, 
 While greed shuts up his shiveled soul, 
 And takes the world in full control. 
 
 51 
 
Thus Christian mothers kneel and pray, 
 While misery gnaws the heart away, 
 And travesties on Christian love 
 Make angels weep who watch above. 
 But lift your eyes, O, child of earth ! 
 For righteousness shall soon have birth, 
 And nature from her thousand hills 
 Shall yield a balm for human ills ; 
 With gentle speech she ll check each sigh, 
 And wipe the tears from every eye; 
 Soothe every pain, drive out all care, 
 And answer every heartfelt prayer. 
 
 AS IT SHALL BE. 
 
 The scepter and crown shall rust, 
 
 The great shall be fallen low, 
 
 The sword and gun, their work well done, 
 
 To the melting pot shall go, 
 
 And fashioned anew shall serve 
 
 Some purpose of peace and love; 
 
 While low on the air like an angel fair 
 
 Shall hover the snow white dove. 
 
 No menial shall weep and moil 
 Nor to master bow the knee, 
 For human skill and human will 
 Shall set the wage slaves free. 
 All boundaries that divide 
 Nation, tribe or clan 
 We soon will find are in the mind 
 Only of foolish man. 
 
 52 
 
No prison for men shall yawn 
 
 Nor gallows cast its pall 
 
 The weird refrain of the ball and chain 
 
 And bolts and bars, and all 
 
 That go to make for the living hell 
 
 Where victims are done to death, 
 
 Shall pass from earth at its glad new birth 
 
 Like vapors of poison breath. 
 
 No woman a pawn shall be 
 
 Nor tramp the highway tread, 
 
 No children cry, and pine and die 
 
 For the want of air and bread. 
 
 The crowded tenement, 
 
 Landlord and money king, 
 
 Shall fade from sight like clouds of night 
 
 When the birds of morning sing. 
 
 O, toiling hosts be glad ! 
 
 Your emancipation I see; 
 
 The time is at hand in every land 
 
 When all men shall be free. 
 
 No worship of Father-land, 
 
 No faction, creed or clan, 
 
 But power and place for the human race 
 
 The BROTHERHOOD OF MAN. 
 
 WHAT THE ANGEL SAW. 
 
 An angel came down from heaven 
 And stood on the sea and land, 
 Where the nation s trade and traffic 
 Observant on every hand 
 
 53 
 
Bartered the souls of people 
 
 Though Christian they thought and free. 
 
 "How is this?" said the angel, 
 
 "But wait, I will go and see." 
 
 He went to a populous city, 
 
 And stood by a factory gate. 
 
 The air was cold and piercing, 
 
 The hour was dark and late, 
 
 When forth came an army of children, 
 
 A pale, pinched, hungry throng, 
 
 With bodies bent and suffering 
 
 From labors hard and long. 
 
 Next day down in the coal mines 
 
 He watched the children toil, 
 
 And in cotton mill, department store, 
 
 And at tilling of the soil, 
 
 Aye! one tremendous army 
 
 Of patient little slaves 
 
 Who march through filth and hunger 
 
 To fill their pauper graves. 
 
 Then the angel turned from looking, 
 And said, as the teardrops fell, 
 "Of such is the Kingdom of Heaven 
 Ye have made them the servants of hell. 
 The Father hath care for the raven 
 And pities the sparrow s fall, 
 Can it be He forgets His children 
 And leaves them to slavery s thrall?" 
 
 Then he went where the people were crowded, 
 In loathsome, dark tenements, 
 Where thousands were daily evicted 
 
 54 
 
For the crime of non-payment of rents. 
 
 He saw the millions toiling, 
 
 And starving for a crust 
 
 While the few are gorged with plenty 
 
 And in idle pleasure rust. 
 
 He saw the costly mansion 
 And the hovel, side by side, 
 The working people walking 
 While the rich in splendor ride. 
 He saw the mouldy prisons 
 Where the innocent were bound 
 While free to rule and ruin 
 The fiendish ones were found. 
 
 "Why is it," said the angel, 
 
 "That they who wealth create, 
 
 Who plant the vineyards, build the homes, 
 
 Must face such awful fate 
 
 While they who do not labor 
 
 Possess, inherit, rule. 
 
 Twould seem a plan satanic 
 
 Or the bungling of a fool. 
 
 "I ve heard sometimes in heaven 
 Of a place where the wicked dwell, 
 It must be I have found it, 
 For surely this is hell. 
 By a system most pernicious 
 King Mammon keeps the throne, 
 And when the people ask for bread 
 They give to them a stone. 
 
 The few own all the factories, 
 The railroads, mines and lands, 
 
 55 
 
While the many beg to labor 
 
 And wait with empty hands; 
 
 And the mills whose ceaseless turning, 
 
 Whose moaning never ends, 
 
 Grinds women, men and children 
 
 To the mighty dividends. 
 
 Tear down their thrones and altars," 
 Saith God, they shall not stand! 
 The stench of murdered thousands 
 From them pollutes the land. 
 The cries of little children, 
 The moans of the sad and poor, 
 The tears of the toiling millions 
 Have doomed them ever more. 
 
 "With whirlwinds of rebellion 
 I will shake their kingdom down, 
 Not one stone upon another 
 In that day shall be found. 
 I ll restore unto the people 
 The Earth to have and hold 
 Free from the tyrant masters 
 Whose highest god is gold." 
 
 THE HOBO 
 
 The sun hung low o er the mountains 
 
 Tinting each rugged crest, 
 
 And painting in golden glory 
 
 The bending skies of the West; 
 
 When dark, like a speck on the landscape, 
 
 56 
 
With his blankets across his back 
 Came a worn and weary hobo 
 Down the dusty railroad track. 
 
 By the curve of the road at nightfall 
 Where the stars above glimmer, and peep, 
 Through a curtain of leaves and grasses, 
 He laid him down to sleep ; 
 And he thought as the song of the night bird 
 Soothed his tired and troubled mind; 
 There s room in this world and plenty 
 For all except me and my kind. 
 
 He slept, and lived in dreamland 
 Where love spread her splendid wings, 
 And bore him from old surroundings, 
 To a better scheme of things. 
 He dwelt in a cosy cottage 
 With flowers blooming round the door 
 Where all was wealth and gladness 
 There were no tramps, no poor. 
 
 A sweetheart wife beside him 
 
 Made him of all men blest, 
 
 While the wee curly head of their darling 
 
 Nestled close to his manly breast; 
 
 And there were great things to be doing 
 
 The best that was in him he gave 
 
 To a world with no soldiers, no shackles, 
 
 No prisons, no master or slave. 
 
 O, woe ! to a world whose workers 
 
 Are cast like chaff to the wind 
 
 When the lords can not use them for profit 
 
 Must go seeking, but cannot find. 
 
 57 
 
O ! cursed be the system forever 
 
 That robs human life of a home, 
 
 And sends young and old to the highway 
 
 In quest of a living to roam. 
 
 But why will you die, Ye toilers, 
 
 You have the power and the might 
 
 To wrest from the cravens who hold them 
 
 Your bread, your freedom, your right. 
 
 O rise! in your infinite numbers 
 
 Unite on the sea and the land, 
 
 Let tyrants implore you for mercy 
 
 Take the reins of the world in your hands. 
 
 THE INDUSTRIAL WORKERS OF THE 
 WORLD. 
 
 I stood by a city prison, 
 
 In the twilight s deepening gloom, 
 
 Where men and women languished 
 
 In a loathsome, living tomb. 
 
 They were singing! And their voices 
 
 Seemed to weave a wreath of light, 
 
 As the words came clear with meaning 
 
 "Workers of the World, unite !" 
 
 As it was with Gallileo, 
 
 And all thinkers of the past, 
 
 So with these Industrial Workers, 
 
 Tyrants shackles hold them fast. 
 
 58 
 
In the bastiles of the nations, 
 
 They are bludgeoned, mugged and starved, 
 
 While upon their aching bodies 
 
 Prints of whips and clubs are carved. 
 
 Yet with spirit still unbroken 
 And with hope for future years 
 They are calling to their fellows : 
 "Come, arise! and dry your tears. 
 Wake, ye toilers, get in action, 
 Break your bonds, exert your might 
 You can make this hell a heaven, 
 Workers of the World, unite !" 
 
 Hail ! ye brave Industrial Workers, 
 Vanguard of the coming day, 
 When labor s hosts shall cease their cringing 
 And shall dash their chains away. 
 How the masters dread you, hate you, 
 Their uncompromising foe; 
 For they see in you a menace. 
 Threatening soon their overthrow. 
 
 Hark! ye masters, lords and rulers, 
 With the cruel iron hand ; 
 Labor built your thrones and altars, 
 Made the wealth you now command; 
 And some day she ll wrest it from you, 
 Break your scaffolds, burn your jails, 
 Sink your warships, kill your soldiers, 
 To the music of your wails. 
 
 59 
 
THE COUNTRY SCHOOL 
 
 By the curve of the road fringed and narrow 
 Half embowered by the green forest leaves 
 Stands a school house serene, and secluded 
 With birds building under the eaves. 
 As I lingered awhile in reflection 
 There came such a rush and a shout 
 Of healthy, happy youngsters ! 
 Twas "Four" and school was out. 
 
 And I saw standing there in the doorway 
 
 A young girl, slender, and fair, 
 
 With eyes like the blue of the twilight 
 
 And a wealth of raven hair. 
 
 The children all clustered about her 
 
 Each one with a cheerful good night, 
 
 While the love between teacher and pupil 
 
 Beamed forth from their faces so bright. 
 
 O, the tender, true love of childhood ! 
 
 Little lady bear this in mind : 
 
 As you journey on life s rough pathway 
 
 No truer friends you Avill find. 
 
 And the lessons you now are imparting, 
 
 And the bent to their character give 
 
 Will become a part of their being 
 
 And remain with them while they shall live. 
 
 O, little white schools in the country 
 
 Half hid by verdure and hills, 
 
 Your pure minded teachers and pupils 
 
 My heart with reverence fills. 
 
 You are the center and seat of learning 
 
 60 
 
Far away from all scenes of strife; 
 Your graduates fill high stations 
 In all of the walks of life. 
 
 I greet you, fair girl, noble teacher 
 
 Of this little white country school 
 
 May your influence strengthen the children 
 
 Who heed now your word and your rule. 
 
 Be thankful today you are useful, 
 
 That your lot has been cast among men 
 
 And women of honest intentions 
 
 Far away from the city s mad din. 
 
 61 
 
Songs 
 
 BABY DONALD 
 
 Oh, Baby Don, since thou hast spoken 
 
 From out the mists, from out the gloom, 
 The dismal spell of death is broken 
 
 And golden sunshine gilds the tomb. 
 Oh, how I ve hungered broken-hearted, 
 ^ How searched the space with weary eyes, 
 Since by your little grave we parted, 
 For a message from beyond the skies. 
 
 I saw your blue eyes closed forever, 
 
 Your pulseless hands clasped on your breast, 
 To thrill with life again, no, never, 
 
 And saw you laid to rest, to rest. 
 How your child-like, perfect beauty, 
 
 Pained my overburdened heart, 
 As I saw it lowered earthward, 
 
 Back to clay saw it depart. 
 
 But I m sure my baby liveth, 
 
 I ve heard him speak. I ve seen his face. 
 I know that God the Father giveth 
 
 Each of His little lambs a place. 
 I know that this world simply fadeth 
 
 Out into that which lies beyond 
 Beyond the mists, where there awaiteth 
 
 All those of whom we are so fond. 
 
 62 
 
MY CHURCH 
 
 My church embraces all 
 
 Of this great pulsing world. 
 
 Every color, race and tribe, 
 
 Bond and free, rich and poor alike, 
 
 Are welcome at its shrine. 
 
 Its altars fair are human hearts, 
 
 From whose sacred fires of love 
 
 Holy incense eternally ascends. 
 
 Its priest is the inner self or soul 
 
 That speaks face to face with God, 
 
 Its holy place wher er you chance to be 
 
 On sea or land, in palace grand or cot 
 
 Its baptismal fount the mighty sea of love 
 
 Whose waters must immerse each soul 
 
 Else it cannot be redeemed. 
 
 SCHOOL MEMORIES 
 
 Mong Missouri s rugged Ozarks 
 
 Stands a school house mean and old, 
 Where the leaves in mild October 
 
 Turn to scarlet, brown and gold. 
 During months of fall and winter 
 
 Many children gathered there 
 Boys with hearts both brave and loyal, 
 
 Girls with faces fond and fair. 
 
 Chorus 
 
 O, those days so bright and fair ! 
 How my thoughts still linger there, 
 
 63 
 
While on memory s page I trace 
 One sweet, tender, girlish face. 
 
 When I played or when I studied, 
 
 Sweet brown eyes looked into mine, 
 Though my boyish heart was wayward, 
 
 Yet I worship at her shrine. 
 O, the thrill that stirred my being, 
 
 As with looks so swift and sly, 
 Cross the room when others saw not, 
 
 Flashed love s glance from eye to eye. 
 
 Years have passed, and leaves are falling 
 
 On the old playground today, 
 But a face and form have vanished 
 
 From those hills and dells away, 
 For the angels took my darling 
 
 Where sweet love is law and rule, 
 And she now recites her lessons 
 
 In a higher, better school. 
 
 In Spirit Land she waits for me, 
 Where angels flutter glad and free, 
 Time nor change can e er efface 
 The memory of her loving face. 
 
 NEVER ALONE 
 
 I m never alone by day nor by night, 
 For ever around me are angels of light, 
 They brighten my pathway and teach me to do 
 The work of the noble, the good and the true. 
 
 64 
 
Chorus 
 
 Never alone ; no, never alone ; 
 Though my pillow may be of down or of stone, 
 In my dreams come sweet visions of faces so fair, 
 And palaces grand of my home over there. 
 
 Though the days may be darkened by sorrow and pain, 
 I know that the sun will shine soon again, 
 For no day is so dark but they whisper to me 
 Of light just beyond, that my eyes cannot see. 
 
 Chorus Never alone, etc. 
 
 They remove from my path every thistle and thorn, 
 And with beautiful flowers my pathway adorn; 
 They walk by my side with love s banner unfurled, 
 As I journey along through this sorrowful world. 
 
 Chorus Never alone, etc. 
 
 MY FLOWERET 
 
 In the cold, damp earth we laid him, 
 
 And left him there alone, 
 While the winds that swept the prairies 
 
 Did moan, and moan, and moan ; 
 And we wept that one so lovely 
 
 Like the floweret and the leaf, 
 Or the rainbow tinted morning 
 
 Should have a life so brief. 
 
 And as I turned me homeward 
 My heart was sick and sore, 
 For I thought a flower had faded 
 
 65 
 
To bloom, no, nevermore ; 
 And the wind among the branches 
 
 Sang this requiem o er and o er: 
 "Thou art gone, art gone, my darling; 
 
 I shall see thee nevermore." 
 
 But an angel softly whispered : 
 
 "Thy darling is not dead, 
 Nor in the far-off mansions, 
 
 But with thee now instead." 
 And my faint heart caught the whisper, 
 
 And it stayed the troubled tide, 
 For I knew my sainted baby 
 
 Was standing by my side. 
 
 That the flower so early gathered 
 
 Bloomed on another plain, 
 And what had been our own loss 
 
 Was his eternal gain ; 
 That the floweret was transplanted 
 
 On the bright celestial shore, 
 To grow and bloom in beauty 
 
 In God s garden evermore. 
 
 THE VOICE OF THE SOUL 
 
 I m told of a country just over the sea, 
 
 A land of perennial bloom 
 Where the soul from all sorrow and pain shall be free, 
 
 Beyond the dark shades of the tomb. 
 Where the wayworn of earth may stay and} take rest, 
 
 Where the traveler will reach his goal, 
 
 66 
 
The city of light in the land of the blest, 
 The Jerusalem of the soul. 
 
 Chorus 
 
 I cannot say if these things be true, 
 Mine eyes have not seen them, I own, 
 
 But something within ever whispers to me 
 Of joys beyond what I have known. 
 
 I m told of a Father of infinite love 
 
 Who knows me and answers my prayer, 
 And that I can never, no, not if I would, 
 
 Drift out and away from His care ; 
 That He notices even the sparrow s fall, 
 
 And hears the young raven s cry; 
 That nothing is lost to this Infinite All 
 
 Not even a tear or a sigh. 
 
 Chorus 
 
 I cannot say if these things be true ; 
 
 Mine eyes have not seen Him, I own, 
 But my soul reaches up to the fountain of life 
 
 For joys beyond what I have known. 
 
 And so I just rest in the happy belief 
 
 That somehow, sometime and some place, 
 My craving of soul will be satisfied, 
 
 Though I never behold His face. 
 Then let me come unto His house and be clothed, 
 
 And drink of His rich flowing bowl, 
 Oh let me sit down at the banquet with Him, 
 
 And feed my poor famishing soul. 
 
 67 
 
LINES TO LENA 
 
 An August flower that blossoms 
 
 Among the Ozark hills 
 Of Missouri, with her song birds, 
 
 Her waving trees and rills 
 A flower of wondrous beauty 
 
 That ever since its birth 
 Hath scattered fragrant perfume 
 
 To purify the earth. 
 
 WHITE ROSE 
 
 When the roses were in bloom 
 
 In the fragrant month of June, 
 
 A little angel came to bless our home 
 
 With its baby smiles and graces 
 
 It dwelt in love s embraces 
 
 While the days passed sweetly, gently, 
 
 With no gloom. 
 
 From the beautiful bye and bye 
 
 Where the roses never die 
 
 This laughing, bright-eyed 
 
 Cherub seemed to fall 
 
 And from that land supernal 
 
 Did bring God s love eternal 
 
 And showered like bright 
 
 Sunshine on us all. 
 
 O, her face grew wondrous fair 
 
 With its crown of golden hair, 
 
 And her eyes were like the skies of azure blue 
 
 68 
 
How her smiles our hearts did lighten, 
 
 How her life our home did brighten ; 
 
 But she faded like the roses of the June. 
 
 When the roses were in bloom 
 
 We laid her in the tomb 
 
 And we heard the clods fall 
 
 Heavy o er her head, 
 
 And our hearts were wrung with sorrow 
 
 On that day and on the morrow 
 
 How we missed her, but we knew 
 
 She was not dead. 
 
 Grieved we were as day by day 
 
 We watched her fade away 
 
 Gently passing from our watchful tender care; 
 
 Who could then refrain from weeping 
 
 Tho she passed to angel s keeping 
 
 To that land where all of life 
 
 Is bright and fair? 
 
 In the beautiful bye and bye 
 
 Where the roses never die, 
 
 And we ll never lay our darlings in the tomb, 
 
 We know some day we ll meet her 
 
 And with raptured souls shall greet her 
 
 Where the days pass sweetly, 
 
 Gently, with no gloom. 
 
 69 
 
Photom 
 
 ount 
 
 Binder 
 
 Gaylord Bros, Inc. 
 
 U.C.BERKELEY LIBRARIES 
 
 906188 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY