Fifty years Other Poems | Page 5

and children.--Say,?What did he mean by those last muttered words,?"Brothers in spirit, brothers in deed are we"?
FRAGMENT
The hand of Fate cannot be stayed,?The course of Fate cannot be steered,?By all the gods that man has made,?Nor all the devils he has feared,?Not by the prayers that might be prayed?In all the temples he has reared.
See! In your very midst there dwell?Ten thousand thousand blacks, a wedge?Forged in the furnaces of hell,?And sharpened to a cruel edge?By wrong and by injustice fell,?And driven by hatred as a sledge.
A wedge so slender at the start--?Just twenty slaves in shackles bound--?And yet, which split the land apart?With shrieks of war and battle sound,?Which pierced the nation's very heart,?And still lies cankering in the wound.
Not all the glory of your pride,?Preserved in story and in song,?Can from the judging future hide,?Through all the coming ages long,?That though you bravely fought and died,?You fought and died for what was wrong.
'Tis fixed--for them that violate?The eternal laws, naught shall avail?Till they their error expiate;?Nor shall their unborn children fail?To pay the full required weight?Into God's great, unerring scale.
Think not repentance can redeem,?That sin his wages can withdraw;?No, think as well to change the scheme?Of worlds that move in reverent awe;?Forgiveness is an idle dream,?God is not love, no, God is law.
THE WHITE WITCH
O, brothers mine, take care! Take care!?The great white witch rides out to-night,?Trust not your prowess nor your strength;?Your only safety lies in flight;?For in her glance there is a snare,?And in her smile there is a blight.
The great white witch you have not seen??Then, younger brothers mine, forsooth,?Like nursery children you have looked?For ancient hag and snaggled tooth;?But no, not so; the witch appears?In all the glowing charms of youth.
Her lips are like carnations red,?Her face like new-born lilies fair,?Her eyes like ocean waters blue,?She moves with subtle grace and air,?And all about her head there floats?The golden glory of her hair.
But though she always thus appears?In form of youth and mood of mirth,?Unnumbered centuries are hers,?The infant planets saw her birth;?The child of throbbing Life is she,?Twin sister to the greedy earth.
And back behind those smiling lips,?And down within those laughing eyes,?And underneath the soft caress?Of hand and voice and purring sighs,?The shadow of the panther lurks,?The spirit of the vampire lies.
For I have seen the great white witch,?And she has led me to her lair,?And I have kissed her red, red lips?And cruel face so white and fair;?Around me she has twined her arms,?And bound me with her yellow hair.
I felt those red lips burn and sear?My body like a living coal;?Obeyed the power of those eyes?As the needle trembles to the pole;?And did not care although I felt?The strength go ebbing from my soul.
Oh! she has seen your strong young limbs,?And heard your laughter loud and gay,?And in your voices she has caught?The echo of a far-off day,?When man was closer to the earth;?And she has marked you for her prey.
She feels the old Ant?an strength?In you, the great dynamic beat?Of primal passions, and she sees?In you the last besieged retreat?Of love relentless, lusty, fierce,?Love pain-ecstatic, cruel-sweet.
O, brothers mine, take care! Take care!?The great white witch rides out to-night.?O, younger brothers mine, beware!?Look not upon her beauty bright;?For in her glance there is a snare,?And in her smile there is a blight.
MOTHER NIGHT
Eternities before the first-born day,?Or ere the first sun fledged his wings of flame,?Calm Night, the everlasting and the same,?A brooding mother over chaos lay.?And whirling suns shall blaze and then decay,?Shall run their fiery courses and then claim?The haven of the darkness whence they came;?Back to Nirvanic peace shall grope their way.
So when my feeble sun of life burns out,?And sounded is the hour for my long sleep,?I shall, full weary of the feverish light,?Welcome the darkness without fear or doubt,?And heavy-lidded, I shall softly creep?Into the quiet bosom of the Night.
THE YOUNG WARRIOR
Mother, shed no mournful tears,?But gird me on my sword;?And give no utterance to thy fears,?But bless me with thy word.
The lines are drawn! The fight is on!?A cause is to be won!?Mother, look not so white and wan;?Give Godspeed to thy son.
Now let thine eyes my way pursue?Where'er my footsteps fare;?And when they lead beyond thy view,?Send after me a prayer.
But pray not to defend from harm,?Nor danger to dispel;?Pray, rather, that with steadfast arm?I fight the battle well.
Pray, mother of mine, that I always keep?My heart and purpose strong,?My sword unsullied and ready to leap?Unsheathed against the wrong.
THE GLORY OF THE DAY WAS IN HER FACE
The glory of the day was in her face,?The beauty of the night was in her eyes.?And over all her loveliness, the grace?Of Morning blushing in the early skies.
And in her voice, the calling of the dove;?Like music of a sweet, melodious part.?And in her smile, the