|
O, the day hurries by
With a flush in the sky Like the blush on a young girl's cheek, While her feet touch the tips Of the hill, and her lips Are moist with a dew that is sweet.
On the slopes she has kissed
There cling veils of white mist She has loosed from her shoulders in flight. And I reach through the haze Till my soul reels and sways, Asking Evening the secret of Night.
Then I see the veils shift,
Setting shadows adrift; The Sibyl has cycled her flight. And my soul in its gaze Through the challenging haze Stands baffled and blind in the night. |
A BEACON FACE
|
To-day a passing throng with anxious pace
Brought me a glimpse of one sweet, noble face Transfigured by the tenderness and grace Of seasoned sorrow and a hard-lost race.
It shamed me that I looked so sullen, sad,
When I, full richly blessed and amply clad Should live in smiles and making others glad, And keep within whatever spite I had. This face, whose smile was built on grief lived through, Both lifted up my own, yet warned me too, For as the shining beacon, born of barren rocks And reared on reefs that hide their rending shocks Would not be there dispensing its warm light Were there not dangers lodged in wily night;
Just so, this passing, patient face
Could ne'er have touched me at my hurried pace But for the courage of its tender grace That came with sorrow and a hard-lost race. |
THE VOICE FROM THE FIELD
[Dedicated to the National burying ground at Gettysburg on the occasion of the fiftieth anniversary of that Battle.]
|
Across the field in silent files they sleep,
With none to rout their ranks while Death doth keep His watch relentless o'er the nameless heap Of unknown men beneath the numbered stones. More orderly are they than when they marched In broken regiments the sun had parched And powder torn, across the fields, fire-arched. And from their silence now rise up loud tones Which speak to all that breathe, a new command, Whose voice shall ring through all the peaceful land: “Be strong! Keep brave thy heart and clean, thy hand, To right with promptness all the wrongs that rise To hide the God-head's face from brothers' eyes. Rear up in love the Nation's life we bore! Be strong, be strong, till wrong shall be no more!” |
THE BURNING OF CHAMBERSBURG
[July 30, 1864]
THE WEDDING AT PANAMA
|
Severed forever,
Yet closer than ever Two neighboring continents lie. The day when these lands Could reach out and touch hands Forever is gone and passed by.
Severed forever,
Yet closer than ever, For what a new union is this! They are neighbors made kin Since the wedding has been Of seas that were wed with a kiss.
Now both mighty oceans were born of these lands
That fed them with streams from their breast, And wedded, will bring to the old parent-sands New wealth from the East and the West.
So, kindred forever,
And closer than ever Two neighboring continents lie: Their children are one, A new era begun, That's watched with a world-sweeping eye. |
A BALLAD OF EUGENICS
“Our modern monogamous family represents the survival of religious, ethical, economic, and legal elements from all the intermingling streams which unite to form civilization.”—Edward Devins.
|
A mighty stream runs past my house,
Right through my grounds it flows; From unseen springs it comes, and then To unseen springs it goes.
And rich deposits in my fields
It brings from distant lands, The welcome wealth of mingled streams That rose from blended sands.
But oftentimes a drifting wreck
It carries to my door, And I must hold it, I who see, To check it evermore;
Lest some one farther down the stream
Whose face I cannot see Might snag his craft and perish there, And dying, censure me.
Not lightly can I turn its way
Aside from channels old, Yet I can change the shores I own, Thus much can be controlled.
And all that marks my lifetime's goal
Is that its onward flow Down past my house and through my lands May ever purer grow. |
IMMORTALITY
[Suggested by the death of a young girl.]
|
The white, soft robes that cling
About her tender form and young Have caught earth's last faint breeze And flutter in the earliest breath Of God's new-dawning day, Revealing on the topmost step The slender foot that rests Upon the threshold she shall cross, And baring the young arm That mothered infant Hope. And in her dreaming eyes so mild, That glance a moment down To where her loved ones longing dwell, There lives no hungering regret; For on the doorway latch there rests The fragile hand so pale; It moves, the door swings softly now, The sweet soul enters in, While one long ray of light falls through And filters down to earth. |
SONNET TO NEMESIS, GODDESS OF REMORSE
|
O Nemesis, thou goddess born of Night,
Thou younger sister of stern Death and Sleep, Close-couched art thou with those grim Three who keep The spun and measured threads of life aright; O Nemesis, that shuns each form of light, By night o'er all the world thy glance doth sweep To seek out crime, its penalty to reap When rosy dawn has put the stars to flight.
Thy fateful voice rings dread from age to age,
Oft times as baying dog or hooting owl; And clear upon thy all-recording page Is writ each deed e'er done with purpose foul. Not even can thy brother Death assuage Thy pangs, Remorse, more dread than Cerberus' growl. |
THOUGHTS OF GOD
|
Whoever the God that has called me to light,
Has willed that my soul should have faith in His might: God is our fountain-head, God is our source, From Him and to Him we follow our course; Wavering, some of us, some ever bold, All of us coming at last to His fold. |
TWO MONOLOGUES
[Suggested by an article in the Philosophic Review.]
The Nietzsche Man
His Rival Speaks
|
I'm maker and mover of men,
I've power as much as I will, But not through compression Nor bold violation Of every man's birthright to live. Aye, talk all you will of your natural man, Of Titans discharging their strength, Say even, we're softened, degenerate men, Our God and philanthropy, weak. And raising the fallen, supporting the frail Is folly, and hindrance to progress, you say? But stay, Overman, and look deeper, I pray. You'll find it's no unworthy task To utilize forces now running astray, Restore to full strength the degenerate crowd. Aye, this is a task not unworthy of you. I too aim at power, but not for myself: The more men I love, the more I can serve, 'Tis thus I would measure my strength. You move in your separate realm where you're king, But I rule a world that is larger than yours, A world of God's vigorous sons. I'm maker and mover of men if you will, And more, I've the love of them all. |
INLAND WAVES
|
A heaving sea life seems to me,
Its passions, surging waves. Each soul embarks upon that sea And each the billows braves.
Ambition's wave o'ertops the rest,
But when the storm-clouds form, Is first to feel upon its breast The fury of the storm.
Hope's waves at first in ripples flow,
But as they onward glide, To billows swell, then larger grow, Advancing side by side.
Each bark is frail, its strength is small
To cope with waves so vast, Yet one great Guide can pilot all And harbor them at last. |
SOUL OF THE WORLD
|
O Thou great Father and Progenitor,
Dispensing form to mists ethereal, Thou universal Builder and great One, Transcending heaven, plain and sea; The world-soul animating all, And calling latent life to glories new, Supreme, yet dwelling in the merest stone, Directing all things to the perfect state! Teach me to nurture then, within my breast, Traces of the world-Creator's self Infused to mortal members at my birth. Thus shall I rest a part of the great One: I cannot die, the world-soul is within Which wakes, to sleep in Thee, and wake again. |
PART III
SONGS FOR THE SEASONS
CREATION MORN
|
An oily tide on a shining beach,
Then, out as far as the eye can reach, The spaceless plain of waiting sea And hush of glad expectancy, Breathed from the gray, cool, sunless light That weds the day with darkest night. While out where ocean greets the sky, A range of purple cloud-peaks lie, That circle round the silent sea And hide the glorious mystery Of God's great secrets which the day May bring to us, or bear away. Then palest rose tints up the crest Of some peaks more than all the rest, And soon a single line of gold Comes tracing them in etchings bold, Till, lo; the ramparts disappear, God's sun of righteousness is here. Men's little ships sail out to sea And from the depths, call back to me, Who find in this day newly born A glimpse of earth's creation morn. |
THANKSGIVING
|
Many mansions, Lord, are Thine
In the universe, Thy home; Glowing planets bear Thy sign, Seething yet with primal foam. Star-clouds, still a shapeless horde, Nascent cells And burned-out shells, Unborn worlds that wait Thy word Hold Thee as their tenant, Lord.
Yet no fairer home is Thine
Than the fields of Autumn Earth, Where the fruit of tree and vine Spread a feast of matchless worth; Every field her gift hath sent, All the year her labor spent; Every man hath shared his gain From the wealth of mine and plain.
Yes, the stars of newer birth
By their beauty praise Thy name, All the heavens joining Earth Thy wide bounty to proclaim; All Thy mansions, Lord are fair, Yet can none with Earth compare, For Thy Holy Son dwelt there, When He came, man's life to share. |
ON EASTER DAY
|
My waking eyes
Behold new skies With Easter's dawning glory bright. Since Thou didst rise New meaning lies In morning's young, transforming light.
For Thou art the dawn of the world, dear Lord,
Our Christ of the breaking day. Death was the night And Thou, the first light That showed where God's pathway lay; Sin was the dark And Thou, the first spark That rolled the late shadows away. Thou art the dawn of the world, dear Lord, Our Christ of the coming day. |
A CHRISTMAS CAROL
|
Come, weary ones, with care oppressed,
Cease earth-born care and strife. Come children, too, rejoice in life, The Holy Child is born.
Disease and sorrow, yea, e'en death,
Have reigned on earth too long; Her rightful monarch praise in song, The Child of Bethlehem.
Behold the night in silence wrapped,
With perfect peace bespread, The star above Christ's infant head Which guides the Wise Men there.
Glad angels guard yon manger-bed;
Now hearken how they sing The praises of their new-born King, The Child of Bethlehem. |
THE MESSAGE OF THE CHIMES
|
“Joy to all, this Christmas morn,
Christ our Saviour has been born.” Peal the chimes in yonder steeple Ringing forth to all the people.
“Joy to all, this Christmas morn!
None are friendless, none forlorn. Those whose hearts by grief were saddened By the Saviour's birth are gladdened.
“Joy to all this Christmas morn!
Barrier gold and selfish scorn Vanish, while in hymns of praise Rich and poor their voices raise.
“Joy to all this Christmas morn!
Overflowing plenty's horn, Wondrous treasures round us fall, Gifts from God to great and small.
“Nature's gift's a cloak of snow,
Under which to live and grow; But to man is given love, Love of Christ, from God above.” |
A WINTER LULLABY[2]
[2] Set to music by Professor Silas Pratt, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.
RAINY DAY FUN
[For Children]
|
One day it rained, and we all cried
Because we couldn't play outside.
But mother said, “Dears, don't complain,
We'll still have fun in spite of rain.”
And so we fixed a big parade
With really guns, and weren't afraid,
Because we knew they wouldn't shoot.
Our Dotty wore her bathing suit,
While overalls we found for Jack,
With Daddy's old blue fishing sack.
Leroy was oldest, so he wore
A scout suit from the boy next door.
Then—
“Left, right.” Up and down we marched.
“Hurray, Hurrah,” till all our throats were parched. Storming round our mother's chair, Giving her an awful scare, “Hurray, hurrah,” up and down we marched.
And when we captured her at last,
We kept her there and held her fast
Until she bought us off with lunch,
Then how we ran, her hungry bunch! |
APPLES IN WINTER
|
A heartsome thing it is to look
At evening in your study And find beside your favorite book Some apples cool and ruddy, Whose russet, yellow, brown, and red Are memories of the richness shed When lovely Autumn tossed her head And from the hilltops lightly fled.
Their spicy skin, so crisp and tart,
Recalls a nook where winds have been To flavor them with highest art By driving dew and sunshine in, While foaming juice and luscious meat Suggest the fragrance of the rain That flavored them with essence sweet And ripened them to match the grain.
A heartsome thing it is to look
At evening in your study And find beside your favorite book Some apples cool and ruddy, Whose russet, yellow, brown, and red Are memories of the richness shed When lovely Autumn tossed her head And from the hilltops lightly fled. |
THE BIRTH OF SPRING
1
|
Quick streams of little waters flow
Beneath the winter's crusty snow, And everywhere that you may go 'Tis Spring, 'tis Spring you know! For bubbling till they break the snow The little waters singing go: |
Chorus
|
“Come join the Company of Spring,
Come robins, wrens, come all and sing. We'll make our ice-caves laugh and ring, We'll blend our torrent-song of Spring.” |
2
|
The gardener trims the anxious trees
And little twigs fly in the breeze; “Come float, come float, play you're a boat,” The waters call, “Come float. The noisy robins' earliest note Is bursting from his tiny throat, come float.” |
Chorus
|
“O, join the Company of Spring,
All you whose hearts are on the wing. Our winter-cares away we'll fling, And rhapsodize the living Spring.” |
Transcriber's note:
What appeared to be clear typographical errors were silently corrected; any other mistakes or inconsistencies were retained.