Eyes of Youth | Page 8

were both claimed ere the sky was grey

Over the tips of the western towers;
Yet, as you went, you had time to
say,
"This is no stranger: we name him ours!"
Slaves and serfs have woes in abundancy--
Clashing of manacle,
whistling of thong,
Tales of terror and tears to redundancy;
What is
the score of my slavery's wrong?
Surely where pleasures so freely
throng
Some sad fiend of unhappiness lowers;
Or is the refrain of
Good Fortune's song,
"This is no stranger: we name him ours"?
When you enfranchised me into your mystery,
Lovingly stealing the
sorrows I had,
Wisdom came with you; the old sad history
Glowed;
and I knew in my heart why the sad
And outcast Lord grew suddenly
glad
As the children thronged to crown Him with flowers,
When
their cry was voiced by some tiny lad,
"This is no Stranger: we name
Him ours!"

L'ENVOI.
So do I thank you; and if some day
You in your gained Paradisal
bowers
Hear me knocking, be bold to pray,
"This is no stranger: we
claim him ours!"
IN THE MIDST OF THEM
"_Gentle Jesus, meek and mild,
Look on me, a little child.
Pity my
simplicity
And suffer me to come to Thee_."
Now prevails a creed which tells
Us to seek no miracles.
Reason by
discovered lore
Reigns where Faith was found before.
God, Who
set our world aspin,
Now is weary of its din;
He, Who for our
fathers' sake
Conjured lightning and earthquake,
Vanquished
sorrow, sickness, death,
Deems we are not worth the Breath
That
blessed the trusting prophet's rod
When Moses called upon his God.

How dare we expect Him give
Miracles to help us live?
Yet I build on Him Who saith,
"Move the mountains with your
faith"--
Doubt the lips that falter, wan,
"The age of miracles is
gone!"
I have learned to read the grim
Testimony unto Him

Printed with starvation's hand
On every hove! through the land;
I
have swung the crazy door
To find huddled on a floor
Rat-gnawed
and riddled, with never a clout
To keep the eager winter out,
Some
six or seven of our kind
Shivering beneath the wind,
Foodless,
fireless, hungry-eyed,
Crouched round one who just had died,

Hopeless that the dawn would bring
Friendly aid and comforting.
And after prayer for the parted soul,
They have thanked the slender
dole,

And spoken of hope of days to come,
And have forgotten their
martyrdom.
The anguished grief of motherhood
Has firmly
whispered "God is good
And can in His Eternity
Repay this present
loss"; till I
Have almost turned my head to see
If Christ has not
come in with me!

_Gentle Jesus, mild and meek,
These the simple words I speak
Are
the faith Thou gavest me;
Suffer me to come to Thee!_
SIC TRANSIT
They camped in the meadow at sunrise,
And their crests gleamed
bright in the sun,
And the breeze that blew sighed soft, for it knew

Their fate e'er the day was done.
They lay in the meadow at sunset,

As the sky in anger blushed red;
For the host of the dawn lay still on
the lawn--
The host was a host of dead.
Let the gardener but pass his scythe o'er the grass--
And the life of a
daisy is sped!

MONICA SALEEBY
RETROSPECT
You loved the child of fifteen years.
I knew not this vast thing.

Your great heart shrank beneath your fears;
You left me wondering.
Now fourteen years have passed us by;
Our souls meet once again;

And, meeting, I have asked you why
Our ways apart have lain?
And now your answer comes at last:--
"I loved you in that day."
Oh,
strange reply! Oh, tender past!
Oh, long love locked away!
And now, yes, I have climbed Love's hill;
My heart is bound, yet free.

And is there not some young child still
For you to love in me?
You have the right to love her yet,
For he who loves me grown

Knew not the child you'll ne'er forget;
I give her for your own.
Oh, keep her young within your breast,
Allow her to survive;
For

love of you I'll do my best
To keep your child alive.

FRANCIS MEYNELL
ANY STONE
A myriad years God toiled to mould
A nerveless stone to His intent--

From peace to war, from heat to cold,
It triumphed against the
Omnipotent:
God strove until His strength grew old,
Then cried
"Thy help, My firmament!"
The stars in succour gave their light,
The aiding moon her
ocean-sway;
At dawn and dusk the hosts of night
Watched round
the battle-fires of day ...
To set the dust He loved aright
God called
His winds to that array,
And all the burden of the world,
And all the tears from all men's eyes,

Drought, dew, and every flower unfurled,
The priest, the fire, the
sacrifice,
The pillared cloud, His thunder hurled--
Victor, He held
as nought the price!
Thus loved, thus wrought, God deemed the stone
Fit bed for beasts to
lie upon.

O God of Gods, make short my days
Of blind approach to her and
Thee;
Life-long upon Thy rugged ways
Her heart has danced: she
calls to me.
Hast Thou forgotten me alone,
O Watcher where the
wild beast lies?--
Mould to Thy will this other stone
--A stone, yet
precious in her eyes.
LUX IN TENEBRIS
Spirit of smiles and tears, you came to