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The Freeman, and Other Poems

Chapter 2: THE FREEMAN
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About This Book

This collection of poems ranges from defiant explorations of freedom and despair to quiet meditations on mortality, love, and faith. Using vivid natural and domestic imagery, the pieces move between stark, sometimes macabre scenes and reflective lyric moments, probing truth, justice, memory, and the human urge to seek meaning. Occasional poems address public themes and ethical concerns, while shorter lyrics record tenderness, humor, and grief. The overall voice balances resolute individualism with compassionate scrutiny of life and its losses.

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Title: The Freeman, and Other Poems

Author: Ellen Anderson Gholson Glasgow

Release date: June 9, 2021 [eBook #65574]
Most recently updated: October 18, 2024

Language: English

Credits: Tim Lindell, Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FREEMAN, AND OTHER POEMS ***

THE FREEMAN
AND OTHER POEMS

 

 

THE   FREEMAN
AND   OTHER   POEMS

BY
ELLEN   GLASGOW





NEW YORK
DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & CO.
MCMII



Copyright, 1902, by
Doubleday, Page & Co.


The DeVinne Press.




TO

LOUISE   COLLIER   WILLCOX

 

 

CONTENTS

The Freeman,13
A Creed,15
The Traveller,16
A Prayer,18
A Battle Cry,19
Fame,20
Resurrection,21
The Shadow,22
Justice,25
Drinking-song,26
Coward Memory,28
The Sage,29
War,31
The True Comedian,32
Aridity,33
Reunion,34
Love has Passed Along the Way,35
A Suppliant,36
The Mountain Pine,38
The Master Hand,39
To a Strange God,40
The Vision of Hell,44
Death-in-Life,47
To My Dog,50
England’s Greatness,51
Mary,53
The Hunter,55

 

 

THE FREEMAN
AND OTHER POEMS

 

 

THE FREEMAN

Hope is a slave, Despair is a freeman

A CREED

THE TRAVELLER

A PRAYER

A BATTLE CRY

FAME

RESURRECTION

THE SHADOW

It has followed me for years,
I have seen It slim and tall;
When the day its distance wears,
It has lengthened on the wall;
Slanting black
On my track,
I have felt Its presence fall.
Oft I flee at break of day,
But It races as I ride;
Oft I seek to slink away,
But It slouches at my side;
Or It steals
On my heels,
As the bridegroom to the bride.
I shall ask of one I love,
Pointing to Its passage fleet,
As along the ways we rove,
What It is that haunts the street.
She will say,
“Nay, nay, nay,
’Tis the shadow at your feet!”
I shall wink and see the trick—
Do they dream that I am blind?
I have but to turn, and quick,
On my pathway I shall find
That It wags,
And It lags,
But It follows close behind.
All the night It hides Its shape
In the dusk beside my bed;
If my vigil I escape,
If I once but turn my head,
While I sleep,
It will creep,
Till I lie beneath It dead.
And the end at last shall come,
Weariness will close my eyes,
I shall fall before It dumb,
When unto my heart It flies.
It will gloat
O’er my throat,
As Its length upon me lies.

JUSTICE

DRINKING-SONG

Fill the bowl and praise the wine,
Give good measure, rise and quaff—
(Who dares say the dawn-stars shine?
Brothers, shame him by a laugh.)
What knows he of soon or late,
Who has been the fool of Fate?
Kiss the blue eyes and the brown,
Cheeks that pale and cheeks that glow,
Kiss the smile and kiss the frown,
Lightly love and lightly go.
He knows neither love nor hate,
Who has been the fool of Fate.
Gather laurels that decay,
Wear them withered on your breast;
Ere they crumble in a day;
Tread them under foot in jest.
What knows he of honour’s weight,
Who has been the fool of Fate?
Take the best that Life can give,
Drink, but do not pass it on.
Live to drink and drink to live—
(Who spoke of a dream foregone?)
He has seen all dreams abate,
Who has been the fool of Fate.
Dreams! What dreams of heaven or hell?
Gods that bless and Gods that spurn?
What if lighter blows befell,
Does he bide till death to burn?
What cares he for hells that wait,
Who has been the fool of Fate?

COWARD MEMORY

THE SAGE

WAR

THE TRUE COMEDIAN

ARIDITY

REUNION

LOVE HAS PASSED ALONG THE WAY

A SUPPLIANT

Lo, these many years I lay,
As a suppliant to my God,
Bore the Cross upon my breast,
Bowed my head beneath the rod.
I have kept my temple fair,
I have watched it day and night,
Lo, my cruse of oil is full,
And my lamp of faith is bright!
I have knelt these many years,
Lord, and I am kneeling still;
On my spirit send Thy grace,
On my body work Thy will.
For at last I shall arise,
I shall stand before Thy throne,
Saying: “Lord, the night is past,
And I come to claim my own!”
“I have knelt my whole years long,
Now I must arise and stand;
There is one among the lost
Who shall clasp me by the hand.
“All the prayers that I have prayed
Were as naught could this not be,
That wherever he has lain
He might stretch his hand to me.
“All the years that I have bowed,
Kneeling there, I knelt in vain,
Could I not in heaven or hell
Look and see his face again.
“I shall hold his hand in mine
When I make my prayer to Thee.
‘Lord, as one and not as twain,
Deal with him and deal with me.’

THE MOUNTAIN PINE

THE MASTER HAND

WRITTEN BEFORE ANDREA DEL SARTO’S
PORTRAIT OF HIMSELF

TO A STRANGE GOD

IN THE BRITISH MUSEUM, AUGUST, 1896

All day within the clanging town
There sounds the press of weary feet;
All night do men and beasts go down
Into the struggle of the street.
From sun to sun, from round to round,
The reek of sweat pollutes the ground.
The clamour of discordant days
Reaches the desecrated room
Where faces wan from alien ways
Shine through the daylight to the gloom,
Where, thick with dust and shadows sown,
A heathen god lies overthrown.
He looks before him and he harks
The heathen scoffing at his shame;
Like arrows in the air he marks
The lips that trifle with his name;
And he whose worship they disown,
He smiles on them—a God of stone.
He smiles upon them, on his face
No graven majesty beguiles.
They mock his Godhead—from his place
He bends unto them and he smiles.
His favours as a garnered sheaf
Know not belief from unbelief.
He sits in silence, he who saw
The hoary homage of the East—
Before whose sovereignty of Law
There bowed, adoring, man and beast.
He sits in silence, and a God
He bows himself beneath the rod.
O God of stone! to whom the years
Rustle like leaves that drop away,
The seal upon thy forehead bears
The impress of a larger day.
No doubt that damns may bid to cease
Thine old insuperable peace.
When, blind with carnage that inflames,
We pander to the pangs of lust,
Our orgies falter, and the shames
That hold us dwindle into dust.
From gods of flesh that we have known
We turn to thee—a God of stone.
Our right hath been the right of steel,
Our litany the battle-cry;
Bound and abased beneath our heel,
Thy chosen people prostrate lie.
And where thy children came in prayer,
Our proud hosannas rend the air.
Though we have warred with doubts for deeds,
Our fortresses and faiths decay,
Our altars rot with canker creeds—
Thou art forever and to-day;
No sacrifice averts thy frown,
No worship brings thy blessing down.
Far as the East is from the West,
Thy graven smile this curse hath cast—
Thy vengeance is our own unrest,
Our future is a people’s past.
The blows that on thine image fall
Are blows that smite the God of all.

THE VISION OF HELL

I died and passed from earth and went my way,
I trod the starry gulf from sphere to sphere,
I felt the breath of God upon my brow
As I drew near.
I paused above Infinity’s abyss,
Scanning the upward path my spirit trod;
A million silver planets spun between
The earth and God.
Yet, scarlet on the ether’s inky waves,
The crooked orbit of the earth was cast;
Dark silhouettes against that solemn light,
Its countless creatures passed.
I saw those mortal shadows stumble on,
Rising in anguish, passing in a breath,
Blind atoms, treading their predestined doom
From birth to death.
I heard his laughter as he passed along,
I heard the mortal boast immortal breath;
I saw the earth in tragic irony,
Plunge to its death.
Then low into Jehovah’s listening ear
I spoke: “O God of Gods, the life you gave
Is but a lying travesty, whose lie
Ends in the grave.
“Look on the lives that you have made and marred,
Filing gray phantoms in a hapless train:
The stronger finds your heaven; the weaker finds
An endless pain.
“O God, within the hollow of whose hand
A million worlds are tossed to win or lose,
You choose the stronger for salvation, but
The damned I choose.
“I take my stand upon the weaker side,
I grasp the sinner’s hand, I share his fate;
The hell of those who failed, I choose, or those
Who win too late.
God smiled: across the inky ether way,
A flash that lighted worlds supernal fell.
“It is the damned you look upon,” God said:
“The earth is hell.”

DEATH-IN-LIFE