MS icox vw-7 POEMS OF PROBLEMS BY THE SAME AUTHOR POEMS OF PASSION POEMS OP PLEASURE POEMS OP POWER POEMS OF CHEER POEMS OP SENTIMENT POEMS OF PROGRESS POEMS OP EXPERIENCE THE KINGDOM OF LOVE MAURINE THREE WOMEN YESTERDAYS THE ENGLISHMAN In the Press POEMS OF PROBLEMS POEMS OF PROBLEMS BY ELLA WHEELER WILCOX W. B. CONKEY COMPANY CHICAGO 1914 (All rights reserved) COPYRIGHTED, 1914 BY ELLA WHEELER WILCOX AW A) CONTENTS Arrow and Bow ........... 9 Husks ............... 13 Sisters of Mine ........... 15 Answer ............... 17 The Silent Tragedy .......... The Trinity ............. 23 The Well-Born ............ 25 The Price He Paid .......... C7 Meditations ............. 30 Divorced .............. ($4 The Unwed Mother to the Wife ..... 39 Father and Son ........... 42 The Revealing Angels ......... 45 The New Year Ship .......... 49 Thinking of Christ .......... 51 The Traveller ............ 53 What Have You Done ? ........ j 55* The Undertone ............ 58 Gypsying .............. 61 Dance of the Song of the Sylphides .... 63 5 6 CONTENTS PAGE The Birth of the Orchid 67 Stairways and Gardens 68 Song of the Road 70 The Forecast 72 The Faith We Need 75 Christ Crucified 78 The Plough 82 The Earth 84 September y7l October (sg Two Voices <$$ The Graduates 92 The Leader to Be 95 Disarmament 97 The Edict of the Sex 99 The Spinster 102 The Cure W& The Creed 109 The Heights 110 A Man s Ideal 112 The River 113 Unanswered Prayers ^-Hi^ Illusion 117 The Birth of Jealousy H9 God s Measure * 122 A Ballade of the Unborn Dead 123 CONTENTS 7 PAGE To Men 126 Reincarnation 129 Recrimination 131 The Gulf Stream 134 A Minor Chord 135 The Squanderer 136 Preparation 137 Sirius 139 Remembered ^ 142 The Call . 143 The Awakening 145 What Love Is ;. 146 Love s Supremacy 152 v Protest 154 The Technique of Immortality 156 I Wonder 158 Omnipotence 160 Interlude 163 / Consummation 164 Time s Gaze JJg7 Unsatisfied -19 The Eternal Now 172 The Mill 173 A Wish ARROW AND BOW T is easy to stand in the pulpit or in the closet to kneel And say "God do this; God do that - "Make the world better; relieve the sorrows of man; for the sake of thy son Oh forgive all sin. Then having planned out God s work, to feel Our duty is done. It is easy to be religious this way. Easy to pray. It is harder to stand on the highway, or walk in the crowded mart; And say "I am He; I am He; "Mine the world burden; mine the sorrows of men ; mine is the Christ work "To forgive my brother s sin; and then to live the Christ part And never to shirk. It is hard for you and me To be religious this way. Day after day. 9 10 POEMS OF PROBLEMS But God is no longer in heaven ; we drove him out with our prayers ; Drove him out with our sermons and creeds, and our endless plaints and despairs. He came down over the borders, and Christ too came along; They are looking the whole world over to see just what is wrong. God has grown weary of hearing his praises sung on earth ; And Jesus is weary of hearing the story about his birth; And the way to win their favor, that is surer than any other, Is to join in a song of Brotherhood and praises of one another. No, God is no longer in heaven; He has come down on earth to see That nothing is wrong with the world He made ; THE WRONG IS IN YOU AND ME. He meant the earth for a garden spot, where mill and factory stand; Childhood he meant for growing time ; but look at the toiling hand! "Woman was meant for mother and mate; now look at the slaves of lust. And the good folks shake their heads and say "We must pray to God and trust. " AEEOW AND BOW 11 God has a billion books of our prayers unopened upon his shelves, For the things we are begging of him to do, He wants us to do ourselves. Jehovah, Jesus, and each soul in space Are one, and undividable: Until We see God shining in each neighbor s face And find Him in ourselves and hail Him there, Let us be still. "What use is prayer, How can we love the whole, and not each part ? How worship God, and harbor in the heart Hate of God s members (for all men are that). Too long our souls have sat, Like poor blind beggars at the door of God. He never made a beggar We are kings! Let us rise up, for it is time we trod The mountain-tops; time that we did the things We have so long asked God to do. He waits for you To look deep in your brother s eyes and see The God within; To hear you say "Lo, thou art He; Lo, thou art He." This is the only way to end all sin. The difficult, one way. A prayer without a deed is an arrow without a bow-string; 12 POEMS OF PROBLEMS A deed without a prayer is a bow-string without an arrow. The heart of a man should be like a quiver full of arrows, And the hand of a man should be like a strong bow strung for action. The heart of a man should keep his arrows ever ascending, And the hand and the mind of a man should keep at a work unending. ELLA WHEELER WILCOX. HUSKS HE looked at her neighbour s house in the light of the waning day A shower of rice on the steps, and the shreds of a bride s bouquet. And then she drew the shade, to shut out the growing gloom, But she shut it into her heart instead. (Was that a voice in the room?) 1 My neighbour is sad, she sighed, like the mother bird who sees The last of her brood fly out of the nest to make its home in the trees And then in a passion of tears But, oh, to be sad like her: Sad for a joy that has come and gone ! (Did some one speak, or stir?) She looked at her faded hands, all burdened with costly rings; 13 14 POEMS OF PROBLEMS She looked on her widowed home, all burdened with priceless things. She thought of the dead years gone, of the empty years ahead (Yes, something stirred and something spake, and this was what it said:) The voice of the Might Have Been speaks here through the lonely dusk; Life offered the fruits of love; you gathered only the husk. There are jewels ablaze on your breast where never a child has slept. She covered her face with her ringed old hands, and wept and wept and wept. SISTEES OF MINE 15 SISTERS OF MINE |ISTERS, sisters of mine, have we done what we could In all the old ways, through all the new days, To better the race and to make life sweet and good? Have we played the full part that was ours in the start, Sisters of mine? Sisters, sisters of mine, as we hurry along To a larger world, with our banners unfurled, The battle-cry on lips where once was Love s old song, Are we leaving behind better things than we find, Sisters of mine? Sisters, sisters of mine, through the march in the street, 16 POEMS OF PROBLEMS Through turmoil and din, without and within, As we gain something big do we lose something sweet ? In the growth of our might is our grace lost to sight ? As new powers unfold do we love as of old, Sisters of mine? ANSWER 17 ANSWER WELL have we done the old tasks! in the old, old ways of earth. We have kept the house in order, we have given the children birth; And our sons went out with their fathers, and left us alone at the hearth ; We have cooked the meats for their table; we have woven their cloth at the loom; We have pulled the weeds from their gardens, and kept the flowers in bloom; And then we have sat and waited, alone in a silent room. We have borne all the pains of travail in giving life to the race; We have toiled and saved, for the masters, and helped them to power and place; 18 POEMS OF PEOBLEMS And when we asked for a pittance, they gave it with grudging grace. On the bold, bright face of the dollar all the evils of earth are shown. We are weary of love that is barter, and of virtue that pines alone; We are out in the world with the masters : we are finding and claiming our own! THE SILENT TRAGEDY 19 THE SILENT TRAGEDY | HE deepest tragedies of life are not Put into books, or acted on the stage. Nay, they are lived in silence, by tense hearth. In homes, among dull, unperceiving kin, And thoughtless friends, who make a whip of words Wherewith to lash these hearts, and call it wit. There is a tragedy lived everywhere In Christian lands, by an increasing horde Of women martyrs to our social laws. Women whose hearts cry out for motherhood ; Women whose bosoms ache for little heads; Women God meant for mothers, but whose lives Have been restrained, restricted, and denied Their natural channels, till at last they stand Unmated and alone, by that sad sea Whose slow receding tide returns no more. 20 POEMS OF PEOBLEMS Men meet great sorrows ; but no man can grasp The depth, and height, of such a grief as this. The call of Fatherhood is from man s brain. Man cannot know the answer to that call Save as a woman tells him. But to her The call of Motherhood is from the soul, The brain, the body. She is like a plant Which buds and blossoms only to bear fruit. Man is the pollen, carried by the wind Of accident, or impulse, or desire; And then his role of fatherhood is played. Her threefold knowledge of maternity, Through three times three great months, is hers alone. Man as an egotist is wounded when He is not father. Woman when denied The all-embracing role of motherhood Rebels with her whole being. Oftentimes Rebellion finds its only utterance In shattered nerves, and lack of self-control ; Which gives the merry world its chance to cry Old maids are queer/ In far off Eastern lands THE SILENT TRAGEDY 21 They think of God as Mother to the race; Father and Mother of the Universe. And mayhap this is why they make their girls "Wives prematurely, mothers over young; Hoping to please their Mother God this way. Since everywhere in Nature sex is shown For procreative uses, they contend Sterility is sinful. (Save when one Chooses a life of Saintship here on earth, And so conserves all forces to that end.) Here in the West, our God is Masculine; And while we say He bade a Virgin bring His Son to birth, we think of Him as One Placing false values on forced continence Preparing heavens for those who live that life And hells for those who stray by thought or act From the unnatural path our laws have made. Mother of Christ, thou being woman, thou Knowing all depths within the woman heart, All joy, all pain, oh send the world more light. Enlarge our sympathies; and let our minds Turn from achievements of material things To contemplation of Eternal truths. 22 POEMS OF PROBLEMS Space throbs with egos, waiting for rebirth; And mother-hearted women fill the earth. Mother of Christ, show us the way to thin The ranks of childless women, without sin. THE TRINITY 23 THE TRINITY r CH may be done with the world we are in, Much with the race to better it; We can unfetter it, Free it from chains of the old traditions ; Broaden its viewpoint of virtue and sin; Change its conditions Of labour and wealth; And open new roadways to knowledge and health. Tet some things ever must stay as they are While the sea has its tide and the sky has its star. A man and a woman with love between, Loyal and tender and true and clean, Nothing better has been or can be Than just those three. Woman may alter the first great plan. Daughters and sisters and mothers, May stalk with their brothers Forth from their homes into noisy places Fit (and fit only) for masculine man. 24 POEMS OF PEOBLEMS Marring their graces With conflict and strife To widen the outlook of all human life. Yet some things ever must stay as they are While the sea has its tide and the sky has its star. A man and a woman with love that strengthens And gathers new force as its earth way lengthens ; Nothing better by God is given This side of heaven. Science may show us a wonderful vast Secret of life and of breeding it; Man by the heeding it Out of earth s chaos may bring a new order. Off with old systems, old laws may be cast. What now seems the border Of license in creeds, May then be the centre of thoughts and of deeds. Yet some things ever must stay as they are While the sea has its tide and the sky has its star. A man and a woman and love undefiled And the look of the two in the face of a child, Oh, the joys of this world have their changing ways, But this joy stays. Nothing better on earth can be Than just those three. THE WELL-BORN 25 THE WELL-BORN |0 many people people in the world; So few great souls, love ordered, well begun, In answer to the fertile mother need ! So few who seem The image of the Maker s mortal dream; So many born of mere propinquity Of lustful habit, or of accident. Their mothers felt No mighty, all-compelling wish to see Their bosoms garden-places Abloom with flower faces; No tidal wave swept o er them with its flood; No thrill of flesh or heart ; no leap of blood ; No glowing fire, flaming to white desire For mating and for motherhood: Yet they bore children. God! how mankind misuses thy command, To populate the earth! How low is brought high birth ! 26 POEMS OF PROBLEMS How low the woman; when, inert as spawn Left on the sands to fertilise, She is the means through which the race goes on. Not so the first intent. Birth, as the Supreme Mind conceived it, meant The clear, imperious call of mate to mate And the clear answer. Only thus and then Are fine, well-ordered, and potential lives Brought into being. Not by Church or State Can birth be made legitimate, Unless Love in its fulness bless. Creation so ordains its lofty laws That man, while greater in all other things, Is lesser in the generative cause. The father may be merely man, the male; Yet more than female must the mother be. The woman who would fashion Souls, for the use of earth and angels meet, Must entertain a high and holy passion. Not rank, or wealth, or influence of kings Can give a soul its dower Of majesty and power, Unless the mother brings Great love to that great hour. THE PRICE HE PAID 27 THE PRICE HE PAID SAID I would have my fling, And do what a young man may And I didn t believe a thing That the parsons have to say. I didn t believe in a God That gives us blood like fire, Then flings us into hell because We answer the call of desire. And I said: Religion is rot, And the laws of the world are nil; For the bad man is he who is caught And cannot foot his bill. And there is no place called hell ; And heaven is only a truth When a man has his way with a maid, In the fresh keen hour of youth. And money can buy us grace, If it rings on the plate of the church: And money can neatly erase Each sign of a sinful smirch. 28 POEMS OF PROBLEMS For I saw men everywhere, Hotfooting the road of vice; And women and preachers smiled on them As long as they paid the price. So I had my joy of life : I went the pace of the town ; And then I took me a wife, And started to settle down. I had gold enough and to spare For all of the simple joys That belong with a house and a home And a brood of girls and boys. I married a girl with health And virtue and spotless fame. I gave in exchange my wealth And a proud old family name. And I gave her the love of a heart Grown sated and sick of sin! My deal with the devil was all cleaned up, And the last bill handed in. She was going to bring me a child, And when in labour she cried With love and fear I was wild But now I wish she had died. THE PRICE HE PAID 29 For the son she bore me was blind And crippled and weak and sore! And his mother was left a wreck. It was so she settled my score. I said I must have my fling, And they knew the path I would go ; Yet no one told me a thing Of what I needed to know. Folks talk too much of a soul From heavenly joys debarred And not enough of the babes unborn, By the sins of their fathers scarred. 30 POEMS OF PEOBLEM& MEDITATIONS HIS WAS so proud of you last night, dear girl, While man with man was striving for your smile. You never lost your head, nor once dropped down From your high place As queen in that gay whirl. (It takes more poise to wear a little crown With modesty and grace Than to adorn the lordlier thrones of earth.) You seem so free from artifice and wile: And in your eyes I read Encouragement to my unspoken thought. My heart is eloquent with words to plead Its cause of passion; but my questioning mind, Knowing how love is blind, Dwells on the pros and cons, and God knows what. MEDITATIONS 31 My heart cries with each beat, She is so beautiful, so pure, so sweet, So more than dear. And then I hear The voice of Reason, asking: Would she meet Life s common duties with good common sense? Could she bear quiet evening at your hearth, And not be sighing for gay scenes of mirth? If, some great day, love s mighty recompense For chastity surrendered came to her, If she felt stir Beneath her heart a little pulse of life, "Would she rejoice with holy pride and wonder, And find new glory in the name of wife? Or would she plot with hell, and seek to plunder Love s sanctuary, and cast away its treasure, That she might keep her freedom and her pleasure ? Could she be loyal mate and mother dutiful? Or is she only some bright hothouse bloom, Seedless and beautiful, Meant just for decoration, and for show? Alone here in my room, I hear this voice of Eeason. M poor heart 32 POEMS OF PROBLEMS Has ever but one answer to impart, I love her so/ HERS After the ball last night, when I came home I stood before my mirror, and took note Of all that men call beautiful. Delight, Keen, sweet delight, possessed me, when I saw My own reflection smiling on me there, Because your eyes, through all the swirling hours, And in your slow good-night, had made a fact Of what before I fancied might be so; Yet knowing how men lie, by look and act, I still had doubted. But I doubt no more, I know you love me, love me. And I feel Your satisfaction in my comeliness. Beauty and youth, good health and willing mind, A spotless reputation, and a heart Longing for mating and for motherhood, And lips unsullied by another s kiss These are the riches I can bring to you. But as I sit here, thinking of it all In the clear light of morning, sudden fear Has seized upon me. What has been your past ? MEDITATIONS 33 From out the jungle of old reckless years, May serpents crawl across our path some day And pierce us with their fangs? Oh, I am not A prude or bigot ; and I have not lived A score and three full years in ignorance Of human nature. Much I can condone; For well I know our kinship to the earth And all created things. Why, even I Have felt the burden of virginity, When flowers and birds and golden butterflies In early spring were mating; and I know How loud that call of sex must sound to man Above the feeble protest of the world. But I can hear from depths within my soul The voices of my unborn children cry For rightful heritage. (May God attune The souls of men, that they may hear and heed That plaintive voice above the call of sex; And may the world s weak protest swell into A thunderous diapason a demand For cleaner fatherhood.) Oh, love, come near; Look in my eyes, and say I need not fear. 34 POEMS OF PROBLEMS DIVORCED |HINKING of one thing all day long, at night I fall asleep, brain weary and heart sore; But only for a little while. At three, Sometimes at two o clock, I wake and lie, Staring out into darkness ; while my thoughts Begin the weary treadmill-toil again, From that white marriage morning of our youth Down to this dreadful hour. I see your face Lit with the lovelight of the honeymoon; I hear your voice, that lingered on my name As if it loyed each letter; and I feel The cling of your arms about my form, Your kisses on my cheek and long to break The anguish of such memories with tears, But cannot weep; the fountain has run dry. We were so young, so happy, and so full DIVOECED 35 Of keen sweet joy of life. I had no wish Outside your pleasure; and you loved me so That when I sometimes felt a woman s need For more serene expression of man s love (The need to rest in calm affection s bay And not sail ever on the stormy main), Yet would I rouse myself to your desire; Meet ardent kiss with kisses just as warm; So nothing I could give should be denied. And then our children came. Deep in my soul, From the first hour of conscious motherhood, I knew I should conserve myself for this Most holy office; knew God meant it so. Yet even then, I held your wishes first; And by my double duties lost the bloom And freshness of my beauty; and beheld A look of disapproval in your eyes. But with the coming of our precious child, The lover s smile, tinged with the father s pride, Returned again ; and helped to make me strong ; And life was very sweet for both of us. Another, and another birth, and twice The little white hearse paused beside our door 36 POEMS OF PEOBLEMS And took away some portion of my youth With my sweet babies. At the first you seemed To suffer with me, standing very near; But when I wept too long, you turned away. And I was hurt, not realising then My grief was selfish. I could see the change Which motherhood and sorrow made in me; And when I saw the change that came to you, Saw how your eyes looked past me when you talked, And when I missed the love tone from your voice, I did that foolish thing weak women do, Complained and cried, accused you of neglect, And made myself obnoxious in your sight. And often, after you had left my side, Alone I stood before my mirror, mad With anger at my pallid cheeks, my dull Unlighted eyes, my shrunken mother-breasts, And wept, and wept, and faded more and more. How could I hope to win back wandering love, And make new flames in dying embers leap, By such ungracious means? DIVOECED 37 And then She came, Firm-bosomed, round of cheek, with such young eyes, And all the ways of youth. I who had died A thousand deaths, in waiting the return Of that old love-look to your face once more, Died yet again and went straight into hell When I beheld it come at her approach. My God, my God, how have I borne it all! Yet since she had the power to wake that look The power to sweep the ashes from your heart Of burned-out love of me, and light new fires, One thing remained for me to let you go. I had no wish to keep the empty frame From which the priceless picture had been wrenched. Nor do I blame you ; it was not your fault : You gave me all that most men can give love Of youth, of beauty, and of passion; and I gave you full return; my womanhood Matched well your manhood. Yet had you grown in, Or old, and unattractive from some cause (Less close than was my service unto you), 38 POEMS OF PROBLEMS I should have clung the tighter to you, dear ; And loved you, loved you, loved you more and more. I grow so weary thinking of these things; Day in, day out; and half the awful nights. THE UNWED MOTHER TO THE WIFE 39 THE UNWED MOTHER TO THE WIFE HAD been almost happy for an hour, Lost to the world that knew me in the park Among strange faces ; while my little girl Leaped with the squirrels, chirruped with the birds And with the sunlight glowed. She was so dear, So beautiful, so sweet; and for the time The rose of love, shorn of its thorn of shame, Bloomed in my heart. Then suddenly you passed. I sat alone upon the public bench; You, with your lawful husband, rode in state; And when your eyes fell on me and my child, They were not eyes, but daggers, poison tipped. God! how good women slaughter with a look! And, like cold steel, your glance cut through my heart, 40 POEMS OF PROBLEMS Struck every petal from the rose of love And left the ragged stalk alive with thorns. My little one came running to my side And called me Mother. It was like a blow Between the eyes ; and made me sick with pain. And then it seemed as if each bird and breeze Took up the word, and changed its syllables From Mother into Magdalene; and cried My shame to all the world. It was your eyes Which did all this. But listen now to me (Not you alone, but all the barren wives Who, like you, flaunt their virtue in the face Of fallen women) : I do chance to know The crimes you think are hidden from all men (Save one who took your gold and sold his skill And jeopardized his name for your base ends). I know how you have sunk your soul in sense Like any wanton; and refused to bear The harvest of your pleasure-planted seed; I know how you have crushed the tender bud Which held a soul; how you have blighted it; THE UNWED MOTHER TO THE WIFE 41 And made the holy miracle of birth A wicked travesty of God s design. Yea, many buds, which might be blossoms now And beautify your selfish, arid life, Have been destroyed, because you chose to keep The aimless freedom, and the purposeless, Self-seeking liberty of childless wives. I was an untaught girl. By nature led, By love and passion blinded, I became An unwed mother. You, an honoured wife, Refuse the crown of motherhood, defy The laws of nature, and fling baby souls Back in the face of God. And yet you dare Call me a sinner, and yourself a saint ; And all the world smiles on you, and its doors Swing wide at your approach. I stand outside. Surely there must be, higher courts than earth, Where you and I will some day meet and be Weighed by a larger justice. 42 POEMS OF PROBLEMS FATHER AND SON |Y grand-dame, vigorous at eighty-one, Delights in talking of her only son, My gallant father, long since dead and gone. Ah, but he was the lad! She says, and sighs, and looks at me askance. How well I read the meaning of that glance Poor son of such a dad; Poor weakling, dull and sad. I could, but would not, tell her bitter truth About my father s youth. She says : Your father laughed his way through earth : He laughed right in the doctor s face at birth, Such joy of life he had, such founts of mirth. Ah, what a lad was he ! And then she sighs. I feel her silent blame, Because I brought her nothing but his name. Because she does not see Her worshipped son in me. FATHER AND SON 43 I could, but would not, speak in my defence Anent the difference. She says: He won all prizes in his time; He overworked, and died before his prime: At high ambition s door I lay the crime. Ah, what a lad he was! "Well, let her rest in that deceiving thought, Of what avail to say, His death was brought By broken sexual laws, The ancient sinful cause. I could, but would not, tell the good old dame The story of his shame. I could say: I am crippled, weak, and pale, Because my father was an unleashed male. Because he ran so fast, I halt and fail. (Ah, yes, he was the lad!) Because he drained each cup of sense-delight I must go thirsting, thirsting, day and night. Because he was joy-mad, I must be always sad. Because he learned no law of self-control, I am a blighted soul. Of what avail to speak and spoil her joy. 44 POEMS OF PEOBLEMS Better to see her disapproving eyes, And silent, hear her say, between her sighs, 1 Ah, but he was the boy! THE EEVEALING ANGELS 45 THE REVEALING ANGELS |UDDENLY and without warning they came The Revealing Angels came. Suddenly and simultaneously, through city streets, Through quiet lanes and country roads they walked. They walked crying : God has sent us to find The vilest sinners of earth. We are to bring them before Him, before the Lord of Life. Their voices were like bugles; And then all war, all strife, And all the noises of the world grew still; And no one talked ; And no one toiled, but many strove to flee away. Robbers and thieves, and those sunk in drunk enness and crime, Men and women of evil repute, 46 POEMS OF PEOBLEMS And mothers with fatherless children in their arms, all strove to hide. But the Revealing Angels passed them by, Saying: Not you, not you. Another day, when we shall come again Unto the haunts of men, Then we will call your names; But God has asked us first to bring to him Those guilty of greater shames Than lust, or theft, or drunkenness, or vice Yea, greater than murder done in passion, Or self-destruction done in dark despair. Now in His Holy Name we call: Come one and all Come forth; reveal your faces. Then through the awful silence of the world, Where noise had ceased, they came The sinful hosts. They came from lowly and from lofty places, Some poorly clad, but many clothed like queens ; They came from scenes of revel and from toil; From haunts of sin, from palaces, from homes, From boudoirs, and from churches. They came like ghosts THE REVEALING ANGELS 47 The vast brigades of women who had slain Their helpless, unborn children. With them trailed Lovers and husbands who had said, Do this/ And those who helped for hire. They stood before the Angels before the Re vealing angels they stood. And they heard the Angels say; And all the listening world heard the Angels say; These are the vilest sinners of all; For the Lord of Life made sex that birth might come; Made sex and its keen compelling desire To fashion bodies wherein souls might go From lower planes to higher, Until the end is reached (which is Beginning). They have stolen the costly pleasures of the senses And refused to pay God s price. They have come together, these men and these women, As male and female they have come together In the great creative act. 48 POEMS OF PROBLEMS They have invited souls, and then flung them out into space; They have made a jest of God s design. All other sins look white beside this sinning; All other sins may be condoned, forgiven; All other sinners may be cleansed and shriven; Not these, not these. Pass on, and meet God s eyes. The vast brigade moved forward, and behind them walked the Angels, Walked the sorrowful Revealing Angels. THE NEW YEAR SHIP THE NEW YEAR SHIP JCROSS wide seas of space, from God s own bay, Straight to the shores of earth it ploughed its way, And came, full rigged, to anchor in the night. Its sails lie clean against the morning light; And on the bridge old Captain Time is standing, Proud of the brave new craft he is commanding. My heart runs dockward, crying, Ship ahoy! What cargo do you carry pain or joy? Before the crew of Days shall come ashore, Bearing each one his portion of your store Tell me what things are hidden in your hold? There is no answer. Yet I do make bold To prophesy some things Time keeps for me In that great New Year ship. 50 POEMS OF PROBLEMS First there will be Keen Winter mornings, when the sun and frost Wage bloodless battle, with their daggers crossed. The wind will act as second for the sun, While trees stand steadfast for the other one. Ah ! such rare sport ! There will be Spring s return, When in old hearts young blood again will burn, And young buds deck old trees; while in the skies Vast dawns and sunsets startle and surprise A waking world to wonder. There will come Roses so beauteous they strike one dumb; (A perfect rose is beauty s final word!) While in their scent old memories are stirred Of other scenes and times. Then Autumn s brush Shall paint the earth before the final hush That means a dying year. Ah! Captain Time, You cannot cheat me of these gifts sublime, (And countless others that I have not told). Whatever else you bring me or withhold. THINKING OF CHRIST 51 THINKING OF CHKIST HINKING of Christ, and hearing what men say Anent His second coming some near day; Unto the me of Me, I turned to ask, What can we do for Him, and by what task, Or through what sacrifice, can we proclaim Our mighty love, and glorify His name? Whereon myself replied (thinking of Christ) : Has not God s glory unto Him sufficed? What need has He of temples that men raise? What need has He of any songs of praise? Not sacrifice nor offerings needs He. (Thinking of Christ, so spake Myself to me.) The rivers from the mountain do not try To feed the source from which they gain supply ; They pay their debt by flowing on and down, And carrying comfort to the field and town. 52 POEMS OF PROBLEMS They scatter joy and beauty on their course, In gratitude to the Eternal Source. And thus should we (thinking of Christ) bestow The full sweet tides of love that through us flow Upon earth s weaker creatures. To the less Must flow the greater, would we lift and bless. Christ is the mountain source; each heart a river ; The thirsting meadows need us, not the Giver. Thinking of Christ, let us proclaim His worth By gracious deeds to mortals on this earth: And while we wait His coming, let us bring Sweet love and pity to the humblest thing, And show our voiceless kin of air and sod The mercy of the Universal God. Not by long prayers, though prayers renew our grace Not by tall spires, though steeples have their place Not by our faith, though faith is glorious Can we prove Christ, but by the love in us. Mercy and love and kindness seek these three. Thus (thinking of Christ) Myself said unto me. THE TRAVELLER 53 THE TRAVELLER RISTLING with, steeples, high against the hill, Like some great thistle in the rosy dawn It stood; the Town-of-Christian- Churches, stood. The Traveller surveyed it with a smile. 1 Surely, He said, here is the home of peace ; Here neighbour lives with neighbour in accord, God in the heart of all; else why these spires? (Christmas season, and every bell ringing.) The sudden shriek of whistles changed the sound From mellow music into jarring noise. Then down the street pale hurrying children came, And vanished in the yawning Factory door. He called to them: Come back, come unto Me/ The Foreman cursed, and caned Him from the place. (Christmas season, and every bell ringing.) I Wl.li From l.wo elmrehes came two men, and met, Disputing loudly over boundary lines, Hale in their eyes, and murder in their licarls. A lian^lily woman drew her skirls aside Beeanse her fallen sisler |>assed Ihal, way. The Traveller rebuked lliem all. Ama/ed, They asked in indignation, Who are you, Daring lo inlerfere in private lives? The Traveller replied, I\ly name is ( 1IKMST. ((/hrislmas ,sason, and every bell ringing.) WHAT IIAVU YOU DONH WHAT HAVE YOU DONE! HAT have you done, and what are you doing with, life, Man! () Average Man of the world- Average Man of the Christian world we call civilised? What have you done to pay for the labour pains of the mother who bore you? On earth you occupy space; you consume oxy gen from the air: And what do you give in return for these things? Who is better that you live, and strive, and toil? Or that you live through the toiling and striving of others? AH you pass down the street does any one look on you and say, * There goes a good son, a true husband, a wise father, a fine citizen? 56 POEMS OF PROBLEMS A man whose strong hand is ready to help a neighbour, A man to trust ? And what do women say of you? Unto their own souls what do women say? Do they say : He helped to make the road easier for tired feet? To broaden the narrow horizon for aching eyes? He helped us to higher ideals of womanhood ? Look into your own heart and answer, Aver age Man of the world, Of the Christian world we call civilised. ii "What do men think of you, what do they think and say of you, Average Woman of the world? Do they say: There is a woman with a great heart, Loyal to her sex, and above envy and evil speaking : There is a daughter, wife, mother, with a pur pose in life: She can be trusted to mould the minds of little children : WHAT HAVE YOU DONE 57 She knows how to be good without being dull; How to be glad and to make others glad without descending to folly; She is one who illuminates the path wherein she walks ; One who awakens the best in every human being she meets ? Look into your heart, Woman! and answer this: "What are you doing with the beautiful years? Is your to-day a better thing than was your yesterday ? Have you grown in knowledge, grace, and use fulness ? Or are you ravelling out the wonderful fabric knit by Time, And throwing away the threads? Make answer, Woman! Average Woman of the Christian world. 58 POEMS OF PROBLEMS THE UNDERTONE HEN I was very young I used to feel the dark despair of youth; Out of my little griefs I would in vent great tragedies and woes; Not only for myself, but for all those I held most dear I would invent vast sorrows in my melancholy moods of thought. Yet down deep, deep in my heart there was an undertone of rapture. It was like a voice from some other world calling softly to me, Saying things joyful. As I grew older, and Life offered bitter gall for me to drink, Forcing it through clenched teeth when I re fused to take it willingly; When Pain prepared some special anguish for my heart to bear, THE UNDERTONE 59 And all the things I longed for seemed to be wholly beyond my reach Yet down deep, deep in my heart there was an undertone of rapture. It was like a Voice, a Voice from some other world calling to me, Bringing glad tidings. Now when I look about me, and see the great injustices of men, See Idleness and Greed waited upon by luxury and mirth, See prosperous Vice ride by in state, while foot sore Virtue walks; Now when I hear the cry of need rise up from lands of shameful wealth Yet down deep, deep in my heart there is an undertone of rapture. It is like a Voice it is a Voice calling to me and saying: Love rules triumphant. Now when each mile-post on the path of life seems marked by headstones, And one by one dear faces that I loved are hid away from sight; 60 POEMS OF PROBLEMS Now when in each familiar home I see a vacant chair, And in the throngs once formed of friends I meet unrecognising eyes Yet down deep, deep in my heart there is an undertone of rapture. It is the Voice, it is the Voice forever saying unto me: Life is Eternal. GTPSYING 61 GYPSYING jYPSYING, gypsying, through the world together, Never mind the way we go, never mind what port. Follow trails, or fashion sails, start in any weather: While we journey hand in hand, everything is sport. Gypsying, gypsying, leaving care and worry: Never mind the if and but (words for cow ard lips). Put them out with fear and doubt, in the pack with hurry, While we stroll like vagabonds forth to trails, or ships. Gypsying, gypsying, just where fancy calls us; Never mind what others say, or what others do. 62 POEMS OF PROBLEMS Everywhere or foul or fair, liking what befalls us; . While you have me at your side, and while I have you. Gypsying, gypsying, camp by hill or hollow; Never mind the why of it, since it suits our mood. Go or stay, and pay our way, and let those who follow Find, unspringing from the soil, some small seed of good. Gypsying, gypsying, through the world we wander : Never mind the rushing years, that have come and gone. There must be for you and me, lying over Yonder, Other lands, where side by side we can gypsy on. DANCE OF THE SULPHIDES SONG 63 DANCE OF THE SONG OF THE SYLPHIDES The unwritten law of the ancient Egyptians de manded that a famous dancer or singer should retire at the height of her career, or die. Amaremu, the wonder ful dancer, confessed to the Priest of the Temple that she had decided to die after dancing the Song of the Sylphides. The Priest, who was a great musician, asked her to rehearse the dance for him and he would improvise music for it. The verses are written on the story as related in a papyrus found by Dr. Paul Schlie- mann in the recent excavations of the Temple of Sais. The instrument used by the Priest was a horn fash ioned from a human skull. It was known as the Dead Throat, the Skull Horn, and was used in all great orchestras in ancient Egypt. MAREMU the dancer (oh, a dancer of dreams was Amaremu) Unto the Priest of the Temple, the Temple of Sais, drew nigh. She had reached the height of her triumph, and now, as all men knew, She must dance no more, or die. Amaremu the dancer (oh, Amaremu was a dancer of songs) Unto the Priest of the Temple, the Temple of Sais, said: 64 POEMS OF PROBLEMS I will dance the Song of the Sylphides once more for the waiting throngs; Then go my way with the dead/ Then answered the Priest to the dancer (to Amarenm, dancer of love) : Show me the dance of the Sylphides and teach me its rhythm and time; I will shape you an air on the Skull Horn; I will play for you as you move Through the Song of the wordless rhyme. Amarenm the dancer (dancer of anthems and hymns to the sun) Danced in the Temple of Sais, alone for the Priest who played. Slowly the notes from the Skull Horn came quivering one by one, And slowly the dancer swayed. Slowly at first, then faster, swayed Amaremu, dancer of life s delight; And faster and louder and wilder the notes of the Skull Horn grew; DANCE OF THE SULPHIDES SONG 65 And the Priest was a priest no longer, but a man alone at night With the dancer Amaremu. Faster and wilder and madder danced Ama remu, danced Amaremu; She flung down garment by garment; she tore off veil by veil; And the face of the Priest was pallid, and his breath came hard as he drew From the Skull Horn, sounds like a wail. Amaremu the dancer (the dancer of dream, and song, or rite and feast, Dancer of mighty emotions, dancer of terrible joys) Stood nude in the Temple of Sais, stood nude before the Priest, In the beauty that destroys. Amaremu the dancer (oh, Amaremu was dance and song and dream) Stood white in her awful beauty while the pale Priest brought a note 66 POEMS OF PROBLEMS Like the mingled shout of a devil and a soul s despairing scream From the Skull Horn s hollow throat. Amaremu the dancer (the dancer of the Syl- phides Song of Death) Had finished her dance of passion, and the Priest had ceased to play. And white as a marble statue, like a statue with out breath, In the dead Priest s arms she lay. TEE BIRTH OF THE ORCHID 67 THE BIRTH OF THE ORCHID RAPPED in her robe of amethyst Rose the young Dawn. Pallid with passion came the Mist, And followed on, Fleet as a fawn. Down by the sea they clasped and kissed: Swooned the young Dawn. Out of that kiss of dew and flame The orchid came. 68 POEMS OF PROBLEMS STAIRWAYS AND GARDENS |ARDENS and Stairways; those are words that thrill me Always with vague suggestions of delight. Stairways and Gardens. Mystery and grace Seem part of their environment; they fill me With memories of things veiled from my sight, In some far place. Gardens. The word is overcharged with mean ing. It speaks of moonlight and a closing door. Of birds at dawn of sultry afternoons. Gardens. I seem to see low branches screening A vine-roofed arbour with a leaf-tiled floor, Where sunlight swoons. Stairways. The word winds upward to a land ing; Then curves and vanishes in space above. STAIRWAYS AND GARDENS 69 Lights fall, lights rise ; soft lights that meet and blend. Stairways ; and some one at the bottom standing Expectantly with lifted looks of love. Then steps descend. Gardens and stairways. They belong with song With subtle scents of myrrh and musk With dawn and dusk with youth, romance, and mystery, And times that were and times that are to be. Stairways -and gardens. 70 POEMS OF PROBLEMS SONG OF THE ROAD AM a Road; a good road, fair and smooth and broad; And I link with my beautiful tether Town and Country together, Like a ribbon rolled on the earth, from the reel of God. Oh, great the life of a Road! I am a Road; a long road, leading on and on; And I cry to the world to follow, Past meadow and hill and hollow, Through desolate night, to the open gates of dawn. Oh, bold the life of a Road! I am a Road; a kind road, shaped by strong hands. I make strange cities neighbours; The poor grow rich with my labours, SONG OF THE EOAD 71 And beauty and comfort follow me through the lands. Oh, glad the life of a Road! I am a Road; a wise road, knowing all men s ways; And I know how each heart reaches For the things dear Nature teaches; And I am the path that leads into green young Mays. Oh, sweet the life of a Road ! I am a Road ; and I speed away from the slums, Away from desolate places, Away from unused spaces; Wherever I go, there order from chaos comes. Oh, brave the life of a Road! I am a Road ; and I would make the whole world one. I would give hope to duty, And cover the earth with beauty. Do you not see, men! how all this might be done? So vast the power of the Road! 72 POEMS OF PROBLEMS THE FORECAST T may be that I dreamed a dream; it may be that I saw The forecast of a time to come f "by some supernal law. I seemed to dwell in this same world, and in this modern time; All strife had ceased; men were disarmed; and quiet Peace had made A thousand avenues for toil, in place of "War s crime trade. From east to west, from north to south, where highways smooth and broad Tied State to State, the waste lands bloomed, like garden spots of God. There were no beggars in the streets ; there were no unemployed; For each man owned his plot of ground, and laboured and enjoyed. Sweet children grew like garden flowers, all strong and fair to see ; THE FORECAST 73 And when I marvelled at the sight, thus spake a Voice to me: All Motherhood is now an art, the greatest art on earth; And nowhere is there known the crime of one unwelcome birth. From rights of parentage the sick and sinful are debarred; For Matron Science keeps our house, and at the door stands guard. We know the cure for darkness lies in letting in the light; And Prisons are replaced by Schools, where wrong views change to right. The wisdom, knowledge, study, thought, once bent on beast and sod, We give now to the human race, the highest work of God ; And, as the gardener chooses seed, so we select with care; And as our Man Plant grows, we give him soil and sun and air. There are no slums; no need of alms; all men are opulent, 74 POEMS OF PROBLEMS For Mother Earth belongs to them, as was the First Intent/ It may be that I dreamed a dream; it may be that I saw The forecast of a time to come, by some supernal law. THE FAITH WE NEED 75 THE FAITH WE NEED 1 00 tall our structures, and too swift our pace; Not so we mount, not so we gain the race. Too loud the voice of commerce in the land; Not so truth speaks, not so we understand. Too vast our conquests, and too large our gains ; Not so comes peace, not so the soul attains. But the need of the world is a faith that will live anywhere; In the still dark depths of the woods, or out in the sun s full glare. A faith that can hear God s voice, alike in the quiet glen, Or in the roar of the street, and over the noises of men. And the need of the world is a creed that is founded on joy; 76 POEMS OF PROBLEMS A creed with the turrets of hope and trust, no winds can destroy; A creed where the soul finds rest, whatever this life bestows, And dwells undoubting and unafraid, because it knows, it knows. And the need of the world is love that burns in the heart like flame; A love for the Giver of Life, in sorrow or joy the same; A love that blazes a trail to God, through the dark and the cold, Or keeps the pathway that leads to Him clean, through glory and gold. For the faith that can only thrive or grow in the solitude, And droops and dies in the marts of men, where sights and sounds are rude; That is not a faith at all, but a dream of a mystic s heart. Our faith should point as the compass points, whatever be the chart. Our faith must find its centre of peace in a babel of noise; THE FAITH WE NEED 77 In the changing ways of the world of men it must keep its poise; And over the sorrowing sounds of earth it must hear God s call; And the faith that cannot do all this, that is not faith at all. 78 POEMS OF PROBLEMS CHRIST CRUCIFIED |OW ere I slept, my prayer had been that I might see my way To do the will of Christ, our Lord and Master, day by day; And with this prayer upon my lips, I knew not that I dreamed, But suddenly the world of night a pandemonium seemed. From forest, and from slaughter house, from bull ring, and from stall, There rose an anguished cry of pain, a loud, appealing call; As man the dumb beast s next of kin with gun, and whip, and knife, Went pleasure-seeking through the earth, blood-bent on taking life. From trap, and cage, and house, and zoo, and street, that awful strain Of tortured creatures rose and swelled the orchestra of pain. C HEIST CRUCIFIED 79 And then methought the gentle Christ appeared to me, and spoke: I called ye, but ye answered not and in my fear I woke. The next I heard the roar of mills; and moving through the noise, Like phantoms in an underworld, were little girls and boys. Their backs were bent, their brows were pale, their eyes were sad and old ; But by the labour of their hands greed added gold to gold. Again the Presence and the Voice: Behold the crimes I see, As ye have done it unto these, so have ye done to me/ Again I slept. I seemed to climb a hard, ascending track; And just behind me laboured one whose patient face was black. I pitied him; but hour by hour he gained upon the path; 80 POEMS OF PROBLEMS He stood beside me, stood upright and then I turned in wrath. Go back!* I cried. What right have you to walk beside me here? For you are black, and I am white. I paused, struck dumb with fear. For lo ! the black man was not there, but Christ stood in his place; And oh! the pain, the pain, the pain that looked from that dear face. Now when I woke, the air was rife with that sweet, rhythmic din Which tells the world that Christ has come to save mankind from sin. And through the open door of church and temple passed a throng, To worship Him with bended knee, with sermon, and with song. But over all I heard the cry oi; hunted, mangled things; Those creatures which are part of God, though they have hoofs and wings. I saw in mill, and mine, and shop, the little slaves of greed; CHRIST CRUCIFIED 81 I heard the strife of race with race, all sprung from one God-seed. And then I bowed my head in shame, and in contrition cried Lo, after nineteen hundred years Christ still is Crucified/ 82 POEMS OF PEOBLEMS llte% Kifa j^ffij THE PLOUGH F you listen, you will hear from east to west, Growing sounds of discontent and deep unrest. It is just the progress-driven plough of God, Tearing up the well-worn custom-bounded sod; Shaping out each old tradition-trodden track Into furrows, fertile furrows, rich and black. Oh, what harvests they will yield When they widen to a field. They will widen, they will broaden, day by day, As the Progress-driven plough keeps on its way. It will riddle all the ancient roads that lead Into palaces of selfishness and greed; It will tear away the almshouse and the slum That the little homes and garden plots may come. Yes, the gardens green and sweet Shall replace the stony street. THE PLOUGH 83 Let the wise man hear the menace that is blent In this ever-growing sound of discontent. Let him hear the rising clamour of the race That the few shall yield the many larger space. For the crucial hour is coming when the soil Must be given to, or taken back by Toil. Oh, that mighty plough of God; Hear it breaking through the sod! 84 POEMS OF PROBLEMS THE EARTH i |0 build a house, with love for archi tect, Ranks first and foremost in the joys of life. And in a tiny cabin, shaped for two, The space for happiness is just as great As in a palace. What a world were this If each soul born, received a plot of ground; A little plot, whereon a home might rise, And beauteous green things grow! We give the dead, The idle vagrant dead, the Potter s Field; Yet to the living not one inch of soil. Nay, we take from them soil, and sun, and air, To fashion slums and hell-holes for the race. And to our poor we say, c Go starve and die As beggars die; so gain your heritage/ ii That was a most uncanny dream ; I thought the wraiths of those THE EARTH 85 Long buried in the Potter s Field, in shredded shrouds arose; They said, Against the will of God We have usurped the fertile sod, Now will we make it yield. Oh! but it was a gruesome sight, to see those phantoms toil; Each to his own small garden bent ; each spaded up the soil; (I never knew Ghosts laboured so.) Each scattered seed, and watched, till lo ! The Graves were opulent. Then all among the fragrant greens, the silent, spectral train Walked, as if breathing in the breath of plant, and flower, and grain. (I never knew Ghosts loved such things; Perchance it brought back early springs Before they thought of death.) The mothers milk for living babes; the earth for living hosts; 86 POEMS OF PEOPLE MS The clean flame for the un-souled dead. (Oh, strange the words of Ghosts.) If we had owned this little spot In life, we need not lie and rot Here in a pauper s bed. SEPTEMBER 87 SEPTEMBER EPTEMBER comes along the great green way That Spring and Summer fashioned for our feet. And though her face is beautiful and sweet, Though gracious smiles about her ripe mouth play, Yet subtle recollections of each day Of idleness in her large look I meet. All things achieved stand small and incomplete Beside the boastful promises of May! Now I berate fair June, who tempted me "With fragrant beds of roses, and as well Her siren sisters, who were following near; But most of all I do accuse the Sea. Reach me thine hand, and help me break the spell, September, matron-mentor of the year! 88 POEMS OF PEOBLEMS OCTOBER )NE are the Spring and Summer from the year; And from our lives as well. May we not, dear, In our October find serene delights To take the place of ardent summer nights? Not striving to retain a dying season, Or imitate its pleasures, but with reason Accepting Autumn s quiet, briefer day Of calm content, not seeking to be gay? HE Gone are the Spring and Summer ; yet behold The radiant woods, supreme in red and gold And russet colours ; and the wind harp plays A louder song than in the April days. Our lives need not be colourless or sober Because of Autumn. Emulate October, Who will not let the ageing years grow dull, But keep its love by being beautiful. TWO VOICES TWO VOICES VIRTUE WANTON one, wicked one, how was it that you came, Down from the paths of purity, to walk the streets of shame? And wherefore was that precious wealth, God gave to you in trust, Flung broadcast for the feet of men to trample in the dust? VICE prudent one, spotless one, now listen well to me. The ways that led to where I tread these paths of sin, were three: And God, and good folks, all combined to make them fair to see. VIRTUE O wicked one, blasphemous one, now how could that thing be? 90 POEMS OF PROBLEMS VICE The first was Nature s lovely road, whereon my life was hurled. I felt the stirring in my blood, which permeates the world. I thrilled like willows in the spring, when sap begins to flow; It was young passion in my veins, but how was I to know? The second was the silent road, where modest mothers dwell, And hide from eager, curious minds, the truth they ought to tell. That misnamed road called Innocence should bear the sign To Hell. With song and dance in ignorance I walked that road and fell. VIRTUE O fallen one, unhappy one, but why not rise and go Back to the ways you left behind, and leave your sins below, Nor linger in this sink of sin, since now you see, and know? TWO VOICES 91 VICE The third road was the fair highway, trod by the good and great. I cried aloud to that vast crowd, and told my hapless fate. They hurried all through door and wall and shut Convention s gate. I beat it with my bleeding hands: they must have heard me knock. They must have heard wild sob and word, yet no one turned the lock. Oh, it is very desolate, on Virtue s path to stand, And see the good folks flocking by, withholding look and hand. And so with hungry heart and soul, and weary brain and feet, I left that highway whence you came, and sought the sinful street. O prudent one, spotless one, when good folks speak of me, Go, tell them of the roads I came; the road ways fair, and three. 92 POEMS OF PROBLEMS THE GRADUATES SAW them beautiful, in fair array upon Commencement Day; Lissome and lovely, radiant and sweet As cultured roses, brought to their estate By careful training. Finished and complete (As teachers calculate). They passed in maiden grace along the aisle, Leaving the chaste white sunlight of a smile Upon the gazing throng. Musing I thought upon their place as mothers of the race. Oh there are many actors who can play Greatly, great parts ; but rare indeed the soul Who can be great when cast for some small role; Yet that is what the world most needs ; big hearts THE GRADUATES 93 That will shine forth and glorify poor parts In this strange drama, Life! Do they, Who in full dress-rehearsal pass to-day Before admiring eyes, hold in their store Those fine high principles which keep old Earth From being only earth ; and make men more Than just mere men? How will they prove their worth Of years of study ? Will they walk abroad Decked with the plumage of dead bards of God, The glorious birds? And shall the lamb unborn Be slain on altars of their vanity? To some frail sister who has missed the way Will they give Christ s compassion, or man s scorn ? And will clean manhood, linked with honest love, The victor prove, When riches, gained by greed dispute the claim ? Will they guard well a husband s home and name, Or lean down from their altitudes to hear The voice of flattery speak in the ear Those lying platitudes which men repeat To listening Self-Conceit ? 94 POEMS OF PROBLEMS Musing I thought upon their places as mothers of the race, As beautiful they passed in maiden grace. THE LEADER TO BE 95 THE LEADER TO BE HAT shall the leader be in that great day When we who sleep and dream that we are slaves Shall wake and know that Liberty is ours? Mark well that word not yours, not mine, but ours: For through the mingling of the separate streams Of individual protest and desire, In one united sea of purpose, lies The course to Freedom. When Progression takes Her undisputed right of way, and sinks The old traditions and conventions where They may not rise, what shall the leader be? No mighty warrior skilled in crafts of war, Sowing earth s fertile furrows with dead men 96 POEMS OF PROBLEMS And staining crimson God s cerulean sea, To prove his prowess to a shuddering world. No ruler, purchased by the perjured votes Of striving demagogues whose god is gold. Not one of these shall lead to Liberty. The weakness of the world cries out for strength. The sorrow of the world cries out for hope. Its suffering cries for kindness. He who leads Must then be strong and hopeful as the dawn That rises unafraid and full of joy Above the blackness of the darkest night. He must be kind to every living thing; Kind as the Krishna, Buddha, and the Christ, And full of love for all created life. Oh, not in war shall his great prowess lie, Nor shall he find his pleasure in the chase. Too great for slaughter, friend of man and beast, Touching the borders of the Unseen Realms And bringing down to earth their mystic fires To light our troubled pathways, wise and kind, And human to the core, so shall he be The coming leader of the coming time. DISARMAMENT 97 DISARMAMENT E have outgrown the helmet and cuirass, The spear, the arrow, and the javelin. These crude inventions of a cruder age, When men killed men to show their love of God, And he who slaughtered most was greatest king. "We have outgrown the need of war ! Should men Unite in this one thought, all war would end. Disarm the world; and let all Nations meet Like Men, not monsters, when disputes arise. "When crossed opinions tangle into snarls, Let Courts untie them, and not armies cut. "When state discussions breed dissensions, let Union and Arbitration supersede The hell-created implements of War. Disarm the world! and bid destructive thought 98 POEMS OF PROBLEMS Slip like a serpent from the mortal mind Down through, the marshes of oblivion. Soon A race of gods shall rise! Disarm! Disarm! THE EDICT OF THE SEX 99 THE EDICT OF THE SEX )WO thousand years had passed since Christ was born, When suddenly there rose a mighty host Of women, sweeping to a central goal As many rivers sweep on to the sea. They came from mountains, valleys, and from coasts And from all lands, all nations, and all ranks, Speaking all languages, but thinking one. And that one language Peace. Listen, they said, And straightway was there silence on the earth, For men were dumb with wonder and surprise. Listen, mighty masters of the world, And hear the edict of all womankind: Since Christ His new commandment gave to men, 100 POEMS OF PEOBLEMS "Love one another/ full two thousand years Have passed away, yet earth is red with blood. The strong male rulers of the world proclaim Their weakness, when we ask that war shall cease. Now will the poor weak women of the world Proclaim their strength, and say that war shall end. Hear, then, our edict : Never from this day Will any woman on the crust of earth Mother a warrior. We have sworn the oath And will go barren to the waiting tomb Bather than breed strong sons at war s behest, Or bring fair daughters into life, to bear The pains of travail, for no end but war. Ay! let the race die out for lack of babes: Better a dying race than endless wars ! Better a silent world than noise of guns And clash of armies. Long we asked for peace, And oft you promised but to fight again. At last you told us, war must ever be While men existed, laughing at our plea For the disarmament of all mankind. THE EDICT OF THE SEX 101 Then in our hearts flamed such a mad desire For peace on earth, as lights the world at times With some great conflagration ; and it spread From distant land to land, from sea to sea, Until all women thought as with one mind And spoke as with one voice ; and now behold ! The great Crusading Syndicate of Peace, Filling all space with one supreme resolve. G-ive us, men, your word that war shall end: Disarm the world, and we will give you sons Sons to construct, and daughters to adorn A beautiful new earth, where there shall be Fewer and finer people, opulence And opportunity and peace for all. Until you promise peace no shrill birth-cry Shall sound again upon the ageing earth. We wait your answer/ And the world was still. While men considered. 102 POEMS OF PROBLEMS THE SPINSTER I ERE are the orchard trees all large with fruit; And yonder fields are golden with young grain. In little journeys, branchward from the nest, A mother bird, with sweet insistent cries, Urges her young to use their untried wings. A purring Tabby, stretched upon the sward, Shuts and expands her velvet paws in joy, While sturdy kittens nuzzle at her breast. mighty Maker of the Universe, Am I not part and parcel of Thy World, And one with Nature? Wherefore, then, in me Must this great reproductive impulse lie Hidden, ashamed, unnourished, and denied, Until it starves to slow and tortuous death? 1 knew the hope of springtime; like the tree THE SPINSTER 103 Now ripe with fruit, I budded, and then bloomed ; We laughed together through the young May morns ; We dreamed together through the summer moons ; Till all Thy purposes within the tree Were to fruition brought. Lord, Thou hast heard The Woman in me crying for the Man; The Mother in me crying for the Child; And made no answer. Am I less to Thee Than lower forms of Nature, or in truth Dost Thou hold Somewhere in another Realm Full compensation and large recompense For lonely virtue forced by fate to live A life unnatural, in a natural world? ii Thou who hast made for such sure purposes The mightiest and the meanest thing that is Planned out the lives of insects of the air With fine precision and consummate care; Thou who hast taught the bee the secret power Of carrying on love s laws twixt flower and flower ; 104 POEMS OF PROBLEMS Why didst Thou shape this mortal frame of mine, If Heavenly joys alone were Thy design? Wherefore the wonder of my woman s breast, By lips of lover and of babe impressed, If spirit children only shall reply Unto my ever urgent mother cry? Why should the rose be guided to its own, And my love-craving heart beat on alone? in Yet do I understand; for Thou hast made Something more subtle than this heart of me; A finer part of me To be obeyed. Albeit I am a sister to the earth, This nature self is not the whole of me; The deathless soul of me Has nobler birth. The primal woman hungers for the man; My better self demands the mate of me; The spirit fate of me, Part of Thy plan. THE SPINSTER 105 Nature is instinct with the mother-need; So is my heart ; but ah, the child of me Should, undefiled of me, Spring from love s seed. And if, in barren chastity, I must Know but in dreams that perfect choice of me, Still will the voice of me Proclaim God just. 106 POEMS OF PEOBLEMS THE CURE |OU may talk of reformations, of the Economic Plan, That shall stem the Social Evil in its course; But the Ancient Sin of nations, must be got at in THE MAN. If you want to cleanse a river, seek the source. Ever since his first beginning, Man has had his way in lust. He has never learned the law of Self-Control ; And the World condones his sinning, and the Doctors say he must, And the Churches shut their eyes, and take his toll. And the lauded Lovely Mothers send the son out into life With no knowledge-welded armour for the fight; THE CUBE 107 He will make his way like others, through the Oat field, to the Wife ; He will somehow be led onward, to the light/ Yes, his leaders, they shall find him. On the highways at each turn; (Since you did not choose to counsel or to warn, ) They shall tempt him, then shall bind him ; they shall blight, and they shall burn, Down to offspring and descendants yet un born. It can never end through preaching; it can never end through laws; This social sore, no punishment can heal. It must be the mother s teaching of the purpose, and the cause, And God s glory, lying under sex appeal. She must feel no fear to name it to the children it has brought; She must speak of it as sacred, and sublime; She must beautify, not shame it, by her speech and by her thought; Till they listen, and respect it, for all time. 108 POEMS OF PEOBLEMS From the heart they rested under ere they saw the light of day, Must the daughters and the sons be taught this truth; Till they think of it with wonder, as a holy thing alway; While love s wisdom guides them safely through their youth. Oh, the world has made its devil, and the Mothers let it grow; And the Man has dragged their thoughts down to the earth. There will be no Social Evil, when each waking mind shall know All the grandeur and the beauty hid in birth. When each Mother sets the fashion to win con fidence, and trust, And to teach the mighty lesson, Self-Control ; We can lift the great Sex passion from the darkness and the dust, And enshrine it on the altar of the soul. THE CREED 109 THE CREED HOEVER was begotten by pure love, And came desired and welcomed into life, Is of immaculate conception. He Whose heart is full of tenderness and truth, Who loves mankind more than he loves himself, And cannot find room in his heart for hate, May be another Christ. We all may be The Saviours of the world, if we believe In the Divinity which dwells in us And worship it, and nail our grosser selves, Our tempers, greeds, and our unworthy aims, Upon the cross. Who giveth love to all, Pays kindness for unkindness, smiles for frowns, And lends new courage to each fainting heart, And strengthens hope and scatters joy abroad, He, too, is a Redeemer, Son of God. 110 POEMS OF PROBLEMS THE HEIGHTS CRIED, Dear Angel, lead me to the heights, And spur me to the top. The Angel answered, Stop And set thy house in order; make it fair For absent ones who may be speeding there; Then will we talk of heights. I put my house in order. Now lead on ! The Angel said, Not yet; Thy garden is beset By thorns and tares; go weed it, so all those Who come to gaze may find the unvexed rose; Then will we journey on. I weeded well my garden. All is done. The Angel shook his head. A beggar stands/ he said, Outside thy gates ; till thou hast given heed THE HEIGHTS 111 And soothed his sorrow, and supplied his need, Say not that all is done. The beggar left me singing. Now at last At last the path is clear. Nay, there is one draws near Who seeks, like thee, the difficult highway. He lacks thy courage; cheer him through the day; Then will we cry, "At last!" I helped my weaker brother. Now the heights ; Oh, Guide me, Angel, guide! The Presence at my side, With radiant face, said, Look, where are we now? And lo ! we stood upon the mountain s brow The heights, the shining heights! 112 POEMS OF PROBLEMS A MAN S IDEAL LOVELY little keeper of the home, Absorbed in menu books, yet erudite When I need counsel; quick at repartee And slow to anger. Modest as a flower, Yet scintillant and radiant as a star. Unmercenary in her mould of mind, While opulent and dainty in her tastes. A nature generous and free, albeit The incarnation of economy. She must be chaste as proud Diana was, Yet warm as Venus. To all others cold As some white glacier glittering in the sun; To me as ardent as the sensuous rose That yields its sweetness to the burrowing bee. All ignorant of evil in the world, And innocent as any cloistered nun, Yet wise as Phryne in the arts of love When I come thirsting to her nectared lips. Good as the best, and tempting as the worst, A saint, a siren, and a paradox. THE RIVER 113 THE RIVER AM a river flowing from God s sea Through devious ways. He mapped my course for me ; I cannot change it; mine alone the toil To keep the waters free from grime and soil. The winding river ends where it began; And when my life has compassed its brief span I must return to that mysterious source. So let me gather daily on my course The perfume from the blossoms as I pass; Balm from the pines, and healing from the grass; And carry down my current as I go Not common stones but precious gems to show. And tears (the holy water from sad eyes) Back to God s sea, from which all rivers rise, Let me convey, not blood from wounded hearts Nor poison which the upas tree imparts. When over flowery vales I leap with joy, 114 POEMS OF PROBLEMS Let me not devastate them, nor destroy, But rather leave them fairer to the sight; Mine be the lot to comfort and delight. And if down awful chasms I needs must leap, Let me not murmur at my lot, but sweep On bravely to the end without one fear, Knowing that He who planned my ways stands near. Love sent me forth, to Love I go again, For Love is all, and over all. Amen. UNANSWEEED PEAYEES 115 UNANSWERED PRAYERS |IKE some schoolmaster, kind in being stern, Who hears the children crying o er their slates And calling, Help me, master! yet helps not, Since in his silence and refusal lies Their self-development, so God abides Unheeding many prayers. He is not deaf To any cry sent up from earnest hearts; He hears and strengthens when He must deny. He sees us weeping over life s hard sums; But should He give the key and dry our tears, What would it profit us when school were done And not one lesson mastered? What a world Were this if all our prayers were answered. Not In famed Pandora s box were such vast ills As lie in human hearts. Should our desires, 116 POEMS OF PROBLEMS Voiced one by one in prayer, ascend to God And come back as events shaped to our wish, What chaos would result! In my fierce youth I sighed out breath enough to move a fleet, Voicing wild prayers to heaven for fancied boons Which were denied; and that denial bends My knee to prayers of gratitude each day Of my maturer years. Yet from those prayers I rose alway regirded for the strife And conscious of new strength. Pray on, sad heart, That which thou pleadest for may not be given, But in the lofty altitude where souls Who supplicate God s grace are lifted, there Thou shalt find help to bear thy daily lot Which is not elsewhere found. ILLUSION 117 ILLUSION |OD and I in space alone And nobody else in view. And where are the people, Lord, I said, The earth below, and the sky o er- head, And the dead whom once I knew? That was a dream, God smiled and said A dream that seemed to be true. There were no people, living or dead, There was no earth, and no sky o erhead; There was only Myself in you. Why do I feel no fear, I asked, Meeting You here this way? For I have sinned I know full well! And is there heaven, and is there hell, And is this the judgment day? 118 POEMS OF PROBLEMS 1 Nay, those were but dreams/ the Great God said, Dreams, that have ceased to be. There are no such things as fear or sin, There is no you you never have been There is nothing at all but Me. TEE BIETH OF JEALOUSY 119 THE BIRTH OF JEALOUSY TTH brooding mien and sultry eyes, Outside the gates of Paradise Eve sat, and fed the faggot flame That lit the path whence Adam came. (Strange are the workings of a woman s mind.) His giant shade preceded him, Along the pathway green, and dim; She heard his swift approaching tread, But still she sat with drooping head. (Dark are the jungles of unhappy thought.) He kissed her mouth, and gazed within Her troubled eyes ; for since their sin, His love had grown a thousand fold. But Eve drew back; her face was cold. (Oh, who can read the cipher of a soul.) Now art thou mourning still, sweet wife/ Spake Adam tenderly, the life 120 POEMS OF PBOBLEMS Of our lost Eden? Why, in thee All Paradise remains for me. (Deep, deep the currents in a strong man s heart.) Thus Eve: Nay, not lost Eden s bliss I mourn ; for heavier woe than this Wears on me with one thought accursed. In Adam s life I am not first. (0 woman s mind! what hells are fashioned there.) The serpent whispered Lilith s name: ( Twas thus he drove me to my shame) Pluck yonder fruit, he said, and know, How Adam loved her, long ago. (Fools, fools, who wander searching after pain.) I ate; and like an ancient scroll, I saw that other life unroll; I saw thee, Adam, far from here With Lilith on a wondrous sphere. (Bold, bold, the daring of a jealous heart.) Nay, tell me not I dreamed it all; Last night in sleep thou didst let fall TSE BIETH OF JEALOUSY 121 Her name in tenderness; I bowed My stricken head and cried aloud. (Vast, vast the torment of a self-made woe.) And it was then, and not before, That Eden shut and barred its door. Alone in God s great world I seemed, Whilst thou of thy lost Lilith dreamed. (Oh, who can measure such wide loneliness.) Now every little breeze that sings, Sighs Lilith, like thy whisperings. Oh, where can sorrow hide its face, When Lilith, Lilith, fills all space? (And Adam in the darkness spake no word.) 122 POEMS OF PROBLEMS GOD S MEASURE IOD measures souls by their capacity For entertaining his best Angel, Love. Who loveth most is nearest kin to God, Who is all Love, or Nothing. He who sits And looks out on the palpitating world, And feels his heart swell in him large enough To hold all men within it, he is near His great Creator s standard, though he dwells Outside the pale of churches, and knows not A feast-day from a fast-day, or a line Of Scripture even. What God wants of us Is that outreaching bigness that ignores All littleness of aims, or loves, or creeds, And clasps all Earth and Heaven in its embrace. A BALLADE OF THE UNBORN DEAD 123 A BALLADE OF THE UNBORN DEAD |HEY walked the valley of the dead; Lit by a weird half light ; No sound they made, no word they said; And they were pale with fright. Then suddenly from unseen places came Loud laughter, that was like a whip of flame. They looked, and saw, beyond, above, A land where wronged souls wait; (Those spirits called to earth by love, And driven back by hate). And each one stood in anguish dumb and wild, As she beheld the phantom of her child. Yea, saw the soul her wish had hurled Out into night and death; Before it reached the Mother world, Or drew its natal breath. 124 POEMS OF PEOBLEMS And terrified, each hid her face and fled Beyond the presence of her unborn dead. And God s Great Angel, who provides Souls for our mortal land, Laughed, with the laughter that derides, At that fast fleeting band Of self-made barren women of the earth. (Hell has no curse that withers like such mirth.) Angel, tell us who were they, That down below us fared; Those shapes with faces strained and grey, And eyes that stared and stared; Something there was about them, gave us fear ; Yet are we lonely, now they are not here. Thus spake the spectral children; thus The Angel made reply: They have no part or share with us; They were but passers-by. But may we pray for them? the phantoms plead. Yea, for they need your prayers, the Angel said. A BALLADE OF THE UNBORN DEAD 125 They went upon their lonely way; (Far, far from Paradise) ; Their path was lit with one wan ray From ghostly children s eyes; The little children who were never born; And as they passed, the Angel laughed in scorn. 126 POEMS OF PROBLEMS TO MEN IRS, when you pity us, I say You waste your pity. Let it stay, "Well corked and stored upon your shelves, Until you need it for yourselves. We do appreciate God s thought In forming you, before He brought Us into life. His art was crude, But oh, so virile in its rude Large elemental strength: and then He learned His trade in making men; Learned how to mix and mould the clay And fashion in a finer way. How fine that skilful way can be You need but lift your eyes to see ; And we are glad God placed you there To lift your eyes and find us fair. TO MEN 127 Apprentice labour though you were, He made you great enough to stir The best and deepest depths of us, And we are glad He made you thus. Ay! we are glad of many things. God strung our hearts with such fine strings The least breath moves them, and we hear Music where silence greets your ear. We suffer so? but women s souls, Like violet powder dropped on coals, Give forth their best in anguish. Oh, The subtle secrets that we know, Of joy in sorrow, strange delights Of ecstasy in pain-filled nights, And mysteries of gain in loss Known but to Christ upon the Cross! Our tears are pitiful to you? Look how the heaven-reflecting dew Dissolves its life in tears. The sand Meanwhile lies hard upon the strand. How could your pity find a place For us, the mothers of the race? 128 POEMS OF PROBLEMS Men may be fathers unaware, So poor the title is you wear, But mothers ? who that crown adorns Knows all its mingled blooms and thorns; And she whose feet that path hath trod Has walked upon the heights with God. No, offer us not pity s cup. There is no looking down or up Between us: eye looks straight in eye: Born equals, so we live and die. EEINCAENATION 129 REINCARNATION |E slept as weary toilers do, She gazed up at the moon. He stirred and said, Wife, come to bed ; She answered, Soon, full soon. (Oh! that strange mystery of the dead moon s face.) Her cheek was wan, her wistful mouth Was lifted like a cup : The moonful night dripped liquid light: She seemed to quaff it up. (Oh! that unburied corpse that lies in space.) Her life had held but drudgery She spelled her Bible thro; Of books and lore she knew no more Than little children do. (Oh! the weird wonder of that pallid sphere.) Her youth had been a loveless waste, Starred by no holiday. 130 POEMS OF PROBLEMS And she had wed for roof, and bread; She gave her work in pay. ( Oh ! the moon-memories, vague and strange and dear.) She drank the night s insidious wine, And saw another scene: A stately room rare flowers in bloom, Herself in silken sheen. (Oh! vast the chambers of the moon, and wide.) A step drew near, a curtain stirred; She shook with sweet alarms. Oh! splendid face; oh! manly grace; Oh! strong impassioned arms. ( Oh ! silent moon, what secrets do you hide ! ) The warm red lips of thirsting love On cheek and brow were pressed; As the bees know where honeys grow, They sought her mouth, her breast. (Oh ! the dead moon holds many a dead delight.) The sleeper stirred and gruffly spake, Come, wife, where have you been? She whispered low, Dear God, I go But tis the seventh sin. (Oh, the sad secrets of that orb of white.) RECRIMINATION 131 RECRIMINATION i AID Life to Death, Methinks if I were you I would not carry such an awesome face To terrify the helpless human race. And if, indeed, those wondrous tales be true Of happiness beyond, and if I knew About the boasted blessings of that place, I would not hide so miserly all trace Of my vast knowledge, Death, if I were you. But like a glorious angel I would lean Above the pathway of each sorrowing soul, Hope in my eyes, and comfort in my breath, And strong conviction in my radiant mien, The while I whispered of that beauteous goal. This would I do, if I were you, Death! ii Said Death to Life, ( If I were you, my friend, I would not lure confiding souls each day 132 POEMS OF PBOBLEMS With fair false smiles, to enter on a way So filled with pain and trouble to the end. I would not tempt those whom I should defend, Nor stand unmoved and see them go astray. Nor would I force unwilling souls to stay Who longed for freedom, were I you, my friend. But like a tender mother I would take The weary world upon my sheltering breast And wipe away its tears, and soothe its strife. I would fulfill my promises, and make My children bless me as they sank to rest Where now they curse if I were you, Life ! m Life made no answer ; and Death spoke again : I would not woo from God s sweet nothingness A soul to being, if I could not bless And crown it with all joy. If unto men My face seems awesome, tell me, Life, why then Do they pursue me, mad for my caress, Believing in my silence lies redress For your loud falsehoods? (So Death spoke again.) Oh, it is well for you I am not fair, Well that I hide behind a voiceless tomb RECRIMINATION 133 The mighty secrets of that other place. Else would you stand in impotent despair While unfledged souls straight from the mother s womb Rushed to my arms, and spat upon your face. 134 POEMS OF PROBLEMS THE GULF STREAM KILLED mariner, and counted sane and wise, That was a curious thing which chanced to me, So good a sailor on so fair a sea. With favouring winds and blue unshadowed skies, Led by the faithful beacon of Love s eyes, Past reef and shoal, my life-boat bounded free And fearless of all changes that might be Under calm waves, where many a sunk rock lies. A golden dawn; yet suddenly my barque Strained at the sails, as in a cyclone s blast, And battled with an unseen current s force : For we had entered when the night was dark That old tempestuous Gulf Stream of the Past. But for love s eyes, I had not kept the course. A MINOR CHORD 135 A MINOR CHORD HEARD a strain of music in the street A wandering waif of sound. And then straightway A nameless desolation filled the day. The great green earth that had been fair and sweet, Seemed but a tomb ; the life I thought replete With joy, grew lonely for a vanished May. Forgotten sorrows resurrected lay Like bleaching skeletons about my feet. Above me stretched the silent, suffering sky, Dumb with vast anguish for departed suns That brutal Time to nothingness has hurled. The daylight was as sad as smiles that lie Upon the wistful, unkissed mouths of nuns, And I stood prisoned in an awful world. 136 POEMS OF PEOBLEMS THE SQUANDERER |OD gave him passions, splendid as the sun, Meant for the lordliest purposes; a part Of nature s full and fertile mother heart, From which new systems and new stars are spun. And now, behold, behold, what he has done! In Folly s court and carnal Pleasures mart He flung the wealth life gave him at the start. (This, of all mortal sins, the deadliest one.) At dawn he stood, potential, opulent, With virile manhood, and emotions keen, And wonderful with God s creative fire. At noon he stands, with Love s large fortune spent In petty traffic, unproductive, mean A pauper, cursed with impotent desire. PREPARATION 137 PREPARATION E must not force events, but rather make The heart soil ready for their com ing, as The earth spreads carpets for the feet of Spring, Or, with the strengthening tonic of the frost, Prepares for winter. Should a July noon Burst suddenly upon a frozen world Small joy would follow, even though that world Were longing for the Summer. Should the sting Of sharp December pierce the heart of June, What death and devastation would ensue! All things are planned. The most majestic sphere That whirls through space is governed and controlled By supreme law, as is the blade of grass Which through the bursting bosom of the earth Creeps up to kiss the light. Poor, puny man Alone doth strive and battle with the Force 138 POEMS OF PROBLEMS Which rules all lives and worlds, and he alone Demands effect before producing cause. How vain the hope ! We cannot harvest joy Until we sow the seed, and God alone Knows when that seed has ripened. Oft we stand And watch the ground with anxious, brooding eyes, Complaining of the slow, unfruitful yield, Not knowing that the shadow of ourselves Keeps off the sunlight and delays result. Sometimes our fierce impatience of desire Doth like a sultry May force tender shoots Of half-formed pleasures and unshaped events To ripen prematurely, and we reap But disappointment; or we rot the germs With briny tears ere they have time to grow. While stars are born and mighty planets die And hissing comets scorch the brow of space, The Universe keeps its eternal calm. Through patient preparation, year on year, The earth endures the travail of the Spring And Winter s desolation. So our souls In grand submission to a higher law Should move serene through all the ills of life Believing them masked joys. SIEIUS 139 SIRIUS Since Sirius crossed the Milky Way, sixty thousand years have gone. GARRETT P. SERVISS. INGE Sirius crossed the Milky Way Full sixty thousand years have gone ; Yet hour by hour, and day by day, This tireless star speeds on and on. Methinks he must be moved to mirth By that droll tale of Genesis, Which says creation had its birth For such a puny world as this. To hear how One who fashioned all Those Solar Systems, tier on tiers, Expressed in little Adam s fall The purpose of a million spheres. And, witness of the endless plan, To splendid wrath he must be wrought 140 POEMS OF PROBLEMS By pigmy creeds presumptuous man Sends forth as God s primeval thought. Perchance from half a hundred stars He hears as many curious things; From Venus, Jupiter, and Mars, And Saturn with the beauteous rings, There may be students of the Cause Who send their revelations out, And formulate their codes of laws, With heavens for faith and hells for doubt. On planets old ere form or place Was lent" to earth, may dwell who knows A God-like and perfected race That hails great Sirius as he goes. In zones that circle moon and sun, Twixt world and world, he may see souls Whose span of earthly life is done, Still journeying up to higher goals. And on dead planets grey and cold Grim spectral souls, that harboured hate Life after life, he may behold Descending to a darker fate. SIBIU8 141 And on his grand majestic course He may have caught one glorious sight Of that vast shining central Source From which proceeds all Life, all Light. Since Sirius crossed the Milky "Way Full sixty thousand years have gone ; No mortal man may bid him stay, No mortal man may speed him on. No mortal mind may comprehend What is beyond, what was before; To God be glory without end, Let man be humble and adore. 142 POEMS OF PROBLEMS REMEMBERED IS art was loving ; Eros set his sign Upon that youthful forehead, and he drew The hearts of women, as the sun draws dew. Love feeds love s thirst as wine feeds love of wine; Nor is there any potion from the vine Which makes men drunken like the subtle brew Of kisses crushed by kisses ; and he grew Inebriated with that draught divine. Yet in his sober moments, when the sun Of radiant summer paled to lonely fall, And passion s sea had grown an ebbing tide; From out the many, Memory singled one Full cup that seemed the sweetest of them all The warm red mouth that mocked him and denied. THE CALL 143 THE CALL N the banquet hall of Progress God has bidden to a feast All the women in the East. Some have said, * We are not ready ,- We must wait another day. Some, with voices clear and steady, Lord, we hear, and we obey/ Others, timid and uncertain, Step forth trembling in the light. Many hide behind the curtain With their faces hid from sight. In the banquet hall of Progress All must gather soon or late, And the patient Host will wait. If to-day or if to-morrow, If in gladness, or in woe, 144 POEMS OF PROBLEMS If with pleasure, or with sorrow, All must answer, all must go. They must go with unveiled faces, Clothed in virtue and in pride. For the Host has set their places, And He will not be denied. THE AWAKENING 145 THE AWAKENING LOVE the tropics, where sun and rain Go forth together, a joyous train, To hold up the green, gay side of the world, And to keep earth s banners of bloom unfurled. I love the scents that are hidden there By housekeeper Time, in her chests of air: Strange and subtle and all arife With vague lost dreams of a bygone life. They steal upon you by night and day, But never a whiff can you take away : And never a song of a tropic bird Outside of its palm-decked land is heard. And nowhere else can you know the sweet Soft joy-in-nothing that comes with the heat Of tropic regions. And yet, and yet, If in evergreen worlds my way were set 10 146 POEMS OF PROBLEMS I would span the waters of widest seas To see the wonder of waking trees ; To feel the shock of sudden delight That comes when the orchard has changed in a night, From the winter nun to the bride of May, And the harp of Spring is attuned to play The wedding march, and the sun is priest, And the world is bidden to join the feast. i Oh, never is felt in a tropic clime, Where the singing of birds is a ceaseless chime, That leap o the blood, and the rapture thrill, That comes to us here, with the first bird s trill; And only the eye that has looked on snows Can see all the beauty that lies in a rose. The lure of the tropics I understand, But ho! for the Spring in my native land. WHAT LOVE IS 147 WHAT LOVE IS AHASUERAS |ELL me thy name! ESTHER My name, great sire, is Esther. AHASUERAS So thou art Esther ? Esther ! tis a name Breathed into sound as softly as a sigh. A woman s name should melt upon the lips Like Love s first kisses, and thy countenance Is fit companion for so sweet a name! ESTHER Thou art most kind. I would my name and face Were mine own making and not accident. Then I might feel elated at thy praise, Where now I feel confusion. AHASUERAS Thou hast wit As well as beauty, Esther. Both are gems 148 POEMS OF PEOBLEMS That do embellish woman in man s sight. Yet there are gems of second magnitude! Dost thou possess the one great perfect gem The matchless jewel of the world called lovef ESTHER Sire, in the heart of every woman dwells That wondrous perfect gem! AHASUERAS Then, Esther, speak! And tell me what is love! I fain would know Thy definition of that much-mouthed word, By woman most employed least understood. ESTHER What can a humble Jewish maiden know That would instruct a warrior and a king? I have but dreamed of love as maidens will, While thou hast known its fulness. All the world Loves Great Ahasueras! AHASUERAS All the world Fears great Ahasueras! Kings, my child, Are rarely loved as anything but kings. WHAT LOVE IS 149 Love, as I see it in the court and camp, Means seeking royal favour. I would know How love is fashioned in a maiden s dreams. ESTHER Sire, love seeks nothing that kings can bestow. Love is the king of all things here below; Love makes the monarch but a bashful boy, Love makes the peasant monarch in his joy; Love seeks not place, all places are the same, When lighted by the radiance of love s flame. Who deems proud love could fawn to power and splendour Hath known not love, but some base-born pretender. AHASUERAS If this be love, I would know more of it. Speak on, fair Esther! What is love beside? ESTHER Love is in all things, all things are in love. Love is the earth, the sea, the skies above ; Love is the bird, the blossom, and the wind ; Love hath a million eyes, yet love is blind ; 150 POEMS OF PROBLEMS Love is a tempest, awful in its might ; Love is the silence of a moon-lit night; Love is the aim of every human soul; And he who hath not loved hath missed life s goal! AHASUERAS But tell me of thyself, of thine own dreams! How wouldst thou love, and how be loved again ? ESTHER Who most doth love thinks least of love s return ; She is content to feel the passion burn In her own bosom, and its sacred fire Consumes each selfish purpose and desire. Tis in the giving, love s best rapture lies, Not in the counting of the things it buys. AHASUERAS Yet, is there not vast anguish and despair In love that finds no answering word or smile? ESTHER So radiant is love, it lends a glow To each dark sorrow and to every woe. To love completely is to part with pain, WHAT LOVE IS 151 Nor is there mortal who can love in vain. Love is its own reward, it pays full measure, And in love s sharpest grief lies subtlest pleasure. AHASUERAS Methinks, a mighty warrior, lord or king Must in thy fancy play the lover s part; None else could wake such reverential thought. ESTHER When woman loves one born of lowly state, Her thought gives crown and sceptre to her mate; Yet be he king, or chief of some great clan, She loves him but as woman loves a man. Monarch or peasant, tis the same, I wis, When once she gives him love s surrendering kiss. 152 POEMS OF PROBLEMS LOVE S SUPREMACY |S yon great Sun in his supreme con dition Absorbs small worlds and makes them all his own, So does my love absorb each vain ambition, Each outside purpose which my life has known. Stars cannot shine so near that vast orb d splendour ; They are content to feed his flames of fire : And so my heart is satisfied to render Its strength, its all, to meet thy strong desire. As in a forest when dead leaves are falling Save all from some perennial green tree, So one by one I find all pleasures palling That are not linked with or enjoyed by thee. And all the homage that the world may proffer, I take as perfumed oils or incense sweet, LOVE S SUPEEMACY 153 And think of it as one thing more to offer, And sacrifice to Love, at thy dear feet. I love myself because thou art my lover, My name seems dear since uttered by thy voice ; Yet, argus-eyed, I watch and would discover Each blemish in the object of thy choice. I coldly sit in judgment on each error, To my soul s gaze I hold each fault of me, Until my pride is lost in abject terror, Lest I become inadequate to thee. Like some swift-rushing and sea-seeking river, Which gathers force the farther on it goes, So does the current of my love forever Find added strength and beauty as it flows. The more I give, the more remains for giving, The more receive, the more remains to win. Ah ! only in eternities of living Will life be long enough to love thee in. 154 POEMS OF PROBLEMS PROTEST sin by silence, when we should pro test, Makes cowards out of men. The human race Has climbed on protest. Had no voice been raised Against injustice, ignorance, and lust, The inquisition yet would serve the law, And guillotines decide our least disputes. The few who dare, must speak and speak again To right the wrongs of many. Speech, thank God, No vested power in this great day and land Can gag or throttle. Press and voice may cry Loud disapproval of existing ills; May criticise oppression and condemn The lawlessness of wealth-protecting laws That let the children and childbearers toil To purchase ease for idle millionaires. Therefore I do protest against the boast Of independence in this mighty land. PROTEST 155 Call no chain strong, which holds one rusted link. Call no land free, that holds one fettered slave. Until the manacled slim wrists of babes Are loosed to toss in childish sport and glee, Until the mother bears no burden, save The precious one beneath her heart, until God s soil is rescued from the clutch of greed And given back to labor, let no man Call this the land of freedom. 156 POEMS OF PROBLEMS THE TECHNIQUE OF IMMORTALITY HERE hangs a picture on my wall Three leafless trees; dead woods beyond ; Brown grasses and a marshy pond ; And over all An amber sunset of late fall. Too frail the artist heart to cope With all the stern demands of fame. He passed before he won a name, Or gained his hope, To realms where dreams have larger scope. Yet in the modest little square Of canvas, that I daily see He left a legacy to me Of something rare; For more than what is painted there. For tree and grass and sunset sky Hold subtler qualities than art; It is the painter s pulsing heart THE TECHNIQUE OF IMMORTALITY 157 That seems to cry, "I loved these things they cannot die." And so they live to stir and move Each gazer s soul; because they speak Of something mightier than technique. They live to prove The immortality of love. They speak this message day by day ; "Love, love your work, or small or great; Love, love, and leave the rest to fate. For love will stay When all things else have passed away." 158 POEMS OF PBOBLEMS I WONDER BEAD the morning news, Here in this cosy spot, And life seems a thing most sweet. I wonder would I meet The coming day with as glad a thought Had I toiled all night till the break of the dawn That the world might know what is going on. I read, and rest, and dream; Beside the glowing grate. And life seems warm and good. ^1 wonder if it would, Had it happened that mine were the fate To dig like a worm in the deep dark mold That the world above me might keep off cold. Out on the deck I sit, While the ship speeds on apace. I WONDEE 159 Oh, life is a joy at sea. I wonder would it be Had it happened that mine were the place Down in the hot close hold of the boat To stoke the engine and keep it afloat. On the flying train I speed Off for a holiday ; And life is a lazy dream. I wonder how it would seem If I sat while the dark night paled the gray Watching the signals with eyes astrain And my whole thought bent on guiding the train. Guardian angels who fill sky spaces, Unseen Helpers and Spirit Friends, Bless all the toilers in humble places On whom the comfort of earth depends. And waken the heart of the world till it heed Their cry of need. 160 POEMS OF PROBLEMS OMNIPOTENCE at times on this vast Universe, My pigmy self, abashed and mor tified, In patient silence, would hence forth abide, Nor strive with its poor protest, to disperse The seeming shadows from our one small world. That Power which fashioned mountains, shaped the sea, And into space a million planets hurled, Could have no need of any aid from me. The tiniest seed, what mind can understand With all its hidden mysteries of bloom The whole grand system, by a Master planned, For human interference leaves no room. All things move onward to their certain goal; What God conceived, God only can control. OMNIPOTENCE 161 Sudden the old cry breaks upon my ear, The protest and appeal of the oppressed! Something immortal wakens in my breast, And answers to that call, I hear, I hear ! The burdens of the suffering world seem mine And mine progression s healthful discontent. My greater self proclaims itself divine Knows whence it came, and wherefore it was sent. When the first ray pierced through chaotic night My spirit was conceived by primal force, And started on its way to gather light And scatter it along earth s troubled course. Kin to the sun and sea and wind and sky, A part of the Omnipotence am I. I am important to the perfect plan, And I assist the purpose. As the sun Completes the projects by the cause begun, So His intentions are worked out by man. In the construction of a great machine The smallest parts are needed by the whole; 11 162 POEMS OF PEOBLEMS The mighty wheel is held by bolts unseen. So in God s earth there is no useless soul. We are the means to some majestic end, Through us must come the universal good. In us the forces of the Maker blend, On us depends the larger brotherhood; With us mankind must journey to the heights Let us go forth, and set God s world to rights ! INTERLUDE 163 INTERLUDE HE days grow shorter, the nights grow longer, The headstones thicken along the way; And life grows sadder but love grows stronger For those who walk with us, day by day. The tear comes quicker, the laugh comes slower, The courage is lesser to do and dare ; And the tide of joy in the heart runs lower And seldom covers the reefs of care. But all true things in the world seem truer, And the better things of the earth seem best ; And friends are dearer as friends are fewer, And love is all as our sun dips west. Then let us clasp hands as we walk together, And let us speak softly, in love s sweet tone ; For no man knows, on the morrow, whether We two pass by, or but one alone. 164 POEMS OF PEOBLEMS CONSUMMATION UST when all hope had perished in my soul And balked desire made havoc with my mind, My cruel lady suddenly grew kind And sent these written words upon a scroll : "When knowing Night her dusky scarf has tied Across the bold intrusive eyes of Day Come as a glad triumphant lover may No longer fearing that he be denied. I read her letter for the hundredth time; And for the hundredth time my gladdened sight Blurred with the rapture of my vast delight And swooned upon the page. I caught the chime Of far off bells, and at each silvery note My heart on tip-toe, pressed its eager ear Against my breast; it was such joy to hear The tolling of the hour of which she wrote. CONSUMMATION 165 The curious Day still lingered in the skies And watched me, as I hastened to the tryst. But back beyond great clouds of amethyst I saw the Night s soft, reassuring eyes. Oh, Night ! " I cried, dear Love s considerate friend Haste from the far dim valleys of the west And rock this fretful world to peaceful rest And bid the Day s insistent vigil end." Down brooding streets and past the harbored ships The Night s young handmaid, Twilight, walked with me. A spent moon leaned inertly o er the sea; A few pale phantom stars were in eclipse. There was the house, my Lady s sea-girt bower All draped in gloom, save for one taper s glow Which lit the path where willing feet would go: There was the house, and this the promised hour. The tide was out, and from the sea s salt path Eose amorous odors, filtering through the Night And stirring all the senses to delight. 166 POEMS OF PEOBLEMS (Sweet perfumes left, since Aphrodite s bath.) Back in the wooded copse, a whippoorwill Gave love s impassioned and impatient call. On languorous sands I head the waves kiss fall And fall again, so hushed the hour and still. Light was my knock upon the door, oh light, And yet the sound seemed rude. My pulses beat So loud they drowned the coming of her feet. The arrow of her taper pierced the gloom. The portal closed behind me. She was there Love on her lips and yielding in her eyes And but the sea to hear our vows and sighs She took my hand and led me up the stair. TIME S GAZE 167 TIME S GAZE IME looked me in the eyes while passing by The milestones of the year. That piercing gaze "Was both an accusation and reproach. No speech was needed. In a sorrow ing look More meaning lies than in complaining words, And silence hurts as keenly as reproof. Oh, opulent, kind giver of rich hours, How have I used thy benefits ! As babes Unstring a necklace, laughing at the sound Of priceless jewels dropping one by one, So I have laughed while precious moment s rolled Into the hidden corners of the past. And I have let large opportunities For high endeavour move unheeded by, While little joys and cares absorbed my strength, 168 POEMS OF PEOBLEMS And yet, dear Time, set to my credit this : Not one white hour have I made black with hate, Nor wished one living creature aught but good. Be patient with me. Though the sun slants west, The day has not yet finished, and I feel Necessity for action and resolve Bear in upon my consciousness. I know The earth s eternal need of earnest souls, And the great hunger of the world for Love. I know the goal to high achievement lies Through the dull pathway of self -conquest first ; And on the stairs of little duties done We climb to joys that stand thy test. Time, Be patient with me, and another day, Perchance, in passing by, thine eyes may smile. UNSATISFIED 169 UNSATISFIED \HE bird flies home to its young; The flower folds its leaves about an opening bud; And in my neighbor s house there is the cry of a child; I close my window that I need not hear. She is mine and she is very beautiful; And in her heart there is no evil thought. There is even love in her heart, Love of life, love of joy, love of this fair world And love of me (or love of my love for her) ; Yet she will never consent to bear me a child. And when I speak of it she weeps; Always she weeps, saying "Do I not bring joy enough into your life? Are you not satisfied with me and my love As I am satisfied with you? Never would I urge you to some great peril 170 POEMS OF PROBLEMS To please my whim ; yet ever so you urge me ; Urge me to risk my happiness, yea life itself, So lightly do you hold me. And then she weeps Always she weeps until I kiss away her tears, And soothe her with sweet lies, saying I am content. Then she goes singing through the house like some bright bird; Preening her wings; making herself all beau tiful; Perching upon my knee, and pecking at my lips With little kisses. So again love s ship Goes sailing forth upon a portless sea From nowhere into nowhere ; and it takes Or brings no cargoes to enrich the world. The years Are passing by us. "We will yet be old Who now are young. And all the man in me Cries for the reproduction of myself Through her I love. Why love and youth like ours, Could populate with gods and goddesses This great green earth, and give the race new types Were it made fruitful. Often I can see UNSATISFIED 171 As in a vision, desolate old age And loneliness descending on us two And nowhere in the world, nowhere beyond the earth Fruit of my loins and of her womb to feed Our hungry hearts. To me it seems More sorrowful than sitting by small graves And wetting sad eyed pansies with our tears. The bird flies home to its young; The flower folds its leaves about an opening bud, And in my neighbor s house there is the cry of a child, I close my window that I need not hear. 172 POEMS OF PEOBLEMS THE ETERNAL NOW IME with his back against the mighty wall Which hides from view the future s joy and sorrow, Hears without answer the impatient call, Of puny man, to tell him of tomorrow. Mortal be wise, and to the silence bow; These useless and unquiet ways forsaking, Concern thyself with the Eternal Now; Today holds all things ready for thy taking. THE MILL 173 THE MILL Great and devastating as are the evils connected with child and woman labor in mills and factories, there must be many a man and woman who finds happiness in the work which these manufactories afford. It is to voice the feeling which such toilers experience, that this little song is written. And it is sent out with confidence that it will be understood and echoed by the optimistic laborer who finds in his work a means of independence, and an opportunity for the development of his energies. OMETHING there is in the mill whistle blowing Sets my blood flowing Stirs me with life. Gives me the feeling of being a part of it, Hand of it, heart of it, Ready to plunge in the thick of the strife As a strong swimmer goes when the seas are rife. Many have said there was pain in the call of it ; I get the thrall of it ; Nerved and made strong, 174 POEMS OF PROBLEMS My hand reaches out for the work that is wait ing it; Loving, not hating it; Loving the noise, and the rush, and the throng, Loving the days as they hurry along. Over the moil and the murk and the grime in it, Something sublime in it, Calls to my soul. Some things that speak of the ceaseless en deavor For aye and forever, Moving the Universe on to its goal, And each of us parcel and part of the whole. Oh, there is sorrow, injustice and wrong in it; But there s a song in it. All day I hear Over the din and the discord, the thrill of it, That s the brave mill of it, Doing its work without worry or fear And breathing its message of strength in my ear. Happy, I sing to it ; Smiling, I bring to it, Patience and love, for the tasks that lie near. A WISH 175 A WISH REAT dignity ever attends great grief ; And silently walks beside it. And I always know when I meet such woe, That Invisible Helpers guide it. And I know deep sorrow is like a tide, It can not always be flowing The high water mark in the night and the dark Then dawn, and the outward going. But the people who pull at my heartstrings hard, Are the ones whom destiny hurries Through commonplace ways, to the end of their days And pesters with paltry worries. The peddlers who trudge with a budget of wares To the door that is slammed unkindly; 176 POEMS OF PROBLEMS The vender who stands with his shop in his hands Where the hastening hosts pass blindly. The woman who holds in her poor flat purse, The price of her room rent only; While her starved eye feeds on the comforts she needs To brighten a lot that is lonely; The man in the desert of endless work, Unsoftened by islands of leisure; And the children who toil in dust and soil, While their little hearts cry for pleasure. The people who labor and scrimp and save, At the call of some thankless duty, And carefully hide with a mantle of pride Their ravening hunger for beauty. These ask no pity and seek no aid, But the thought of them somehow is haunt ing; And I wish I might fling at them every thing That I know in their hearts they are want ing. RTA"" RETURN CIRCULATION DEPARTMENT TO* 202 Main Library LOAN PERIOD 1 HOME USE 2 3 4 5 6 ALL BOOKS MAY BE RECALLED AFTER 7 DAYS RENEWALS AND RECHARGE MAY PE - AHr , OAYC PRIOR TO DUE DATE. LOAN PE: : ;!ODi; &RE !-;v C;^TH. 3-.V.ONTHS, AND 1-YuAR. RENEWALS: CALL ^415J 642-3405 _^ , DUE AS STAMPED BELOW JUL94 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, BERKELE FOR/W NO. DD6, 60m, 1/83 BERKELEY, CA 94720 34360 \ >ITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY