Poems

Britons and French with hearts and hands! Knit ye the league of the neighbor lands! Doubts and fears to the winds be hurled! Freedom and friendship win the world! We have conquered each other enough to prove That that which must conquer at last is Love; For a loveless man is a lifeless clod, And the spirit of Love is a spark from God: O Love-star, rise in the night, we pray, And lead, lead on to diviner day. The nations have heard, they have heard a call, The voice was the voice of the Lord of all; His mold is ready, his furnace hot, He hath men's hearts in the smelting-pot ! For a time is coming—ah, let it come! When the tiger in man shall be quelled and dumb; When the shuttle of death shall ply no more 'Twixt the hands of the weaver whose warp is war, And envy and hate no more have sway, For the former things shall have passed away.

His world was very real, they said,— The sky's blue dome stretched overhead, Above deep-blossomed trees. His intimates? Some well-thumbed books.

The Mind that governs all that moves And thinks and feels—each heart that loves; The grace that saves and points the way, And to the deepest night brings day; The might that each dear child upholds; The Love that ever soft enfolds Earth's tired ones, and lifts the brim Of heaven that they may look within! With joy Mind quickens faltering feet; And Truth each day and hour makes sweet. This knowledge will endure for aye; His harmony aye holdeth sway If we but let, and not oppose; Truth's open door no hand can close; The sure supply for all our need; The Life that speaks through thought and deed; The only consciousness that is, That giveth, maketh, knoweth bliss— Our God omnipotent!

I. Faith " My soul doth wait.

Oh , to shut out the world! All day, this day, Like long black banners, blank, unfurled, That shift and sway. The thoughts of mortals have been blown Against my soul all day, this day.

O heart of mine, be still, and cease repining! The future ways are beautiful and bright, For on life's distant paths God's sun is shining, If we have but the power to view aright. Be still, mine heart, and listen to the pealing Of radiant music from the unseen spheres.

March on, my soul, nor like a laggard stay! March swiftly on. Yet err not from the way Where all the nobly wise of old have trod, The path of faith made by the sons of God.

Scale , if thou canst not rest, the age-long peaks, Look from the heights on little worlds and men, Cling panting to the topmost tow'rs of earth! And lest there still abide thine own vain worth, Know that each awe-filled breath thou takest in, Each step that brings thee to the glacier's dome, Are thine from Him within whose outstretched hand Abide the hills which thou dost call thine own. When grim Himal'ya's wilderness of peaks Lay leagues beneath the prehistoric sea; Before the flame begot the hidden gold, Or ever Eden's torrent sprang fourfold.

Where the purple cliffs reach upward from the lonely restless deep. Till in peace their crown of hemlocks may a tryst with heaven keep, Whence there comes a benediction that no kingly crown may reap; Where the rocky crest lies hidden in the brown and wind- sown grass, I, 'twixt half-closed eyelids resting, saw life as in a glass; And a oneness with all being through my spirit seemed to pass, While upon the breeze came voices, out from all the ages dim, As the formless dark was banished by the wings of sera phim, And the world alit with gladness caught the love that shone from Him.

Why should I grieve, though seeing thee no more? Why beat the restless pinions of desire, Till flames consume my self-constructed pyre And phenixlike I perish? Still to soar, As doth the lark, above this twilight shore, With dauntless wing and vision ever higher; My steadfast heart aglow with vestal fire— Thus would I grieve and thus would I adore. Why should I mourn? The joyous-hearted day Whereon we met as wanderers long astray, Though but a fledgling's vision, wild and brief, Holds promise, as earth's blinding vapor yields A glimpse of empyrean,—fire-purged fields,— Of halcyon years, undimmed by brooding grief.