Our Profession and Other Poems | Page 5

the spirit free,?And move him onward in the course?That tends to lead him by a way?Whose goal is sure, complete success,?But wanting such, can but display?Chaotic mass of nothingness.
Let Memory and Reason wed,?Their product then may fully know?The food on which great minds are fed,?The founts from which great actions flow;?Each holds its share of honored meed,?But each requires the other's aid?To stimulate the urgent need?By which great genius is displayed.

Many a brave resolution?Is formed on New Year's Day?To annihilate some vices?That on our morals prey;?But before the year is ended?They go so far astray?We find our lives are pursuing?The old, accustomed way.
THE DESIRABLE UNDEFINED.
I have often thought there's a power?Unknown to science or art,?That opens and closes the portals?That lead to the human heart.
I have learned there's a secret something?That remains yet undefined,?That touches the springs and pulleys?That open the human mind.
I have watched the glow of faces,?As a light from this occult source?Has touched some inert nature?With an energizing force.
The effect was so magnetic,?It seemed like creative skill?From the hand of the Great Master,?To give passive being _will_.
Sometimes its power seemed but presence,?Sometimes, a soft, mild tone,?Sometimes, a look of decision,?Ofttimes, from a source unknown.
There's a something wrapped in th' nature?Of those most adapted to teach?That charms and holds the attention?Of those whom its powers reach.
There's a sound from some vibration?Within the human voice?That arouses the latent spirit?And makes the soul rejoice.
Its tone has a magic power?Whereby the heart is impressed?With the weight of its noble mission?And unselfish interest.
There's a mystic charm most winsome?In th' glance of a speaking eye?Whose light shines in dark recesses?And explores them in passing by.
It illumines the page of the student?As his soul warms by its fire,?And stirs him to greater action,?And lifts aspirations higher.
Every word and look and action?Has weight on trustful youth,?That needs no sage to interpret?Or explain its vital truth.
They are fully comprehended?Through the instinct, every one,?And need no labored searching?In a massive lexicon.
Some call this power attraction,?Some term it affinity,?But all recognize its existence?And wonderful potency.
There's also a power of repulsion?That breathes with abated breath,?Whose presence is best betokened?By ominous signs of death.
No word has an inspiration,?No look has a sign of cheer,?Each act reveals that a burden?Must be borne in sorrow and fear.
The wrecks that are made by its presence?Have filled almshouses and jails?With the deepest of lamentations,?The saddest of human wails.
A selfish, terrible monster?That drives away honor and truth?Is the cold-blooded fiend Repulsion,?The destroyer of tender youth.
The sea in its frenzy and fury,?When lashed by the wintry gales?Casts on the rocks its vessels?Bereft of their spars and sails;
The path of the fierce tornado,?Overstrewn with wild debris?Of fallen habitations?And uprooted forest tree;
The wreck of a world of matter?That transforms revolving spheres,?Which have gathered all their greatness?Through the lapse of a million years;
The snow-clad mountain terror--?The fearful avalanche--?Whose thunders are heard in valleys?Where imploring faces blanch;
The mouth of a raging Etna?With its stifling breath of fire,?Wherein the pride of a city?In a moment may expire;
The trembling of the mountains?When an earthquake passes by,?And the terror of the people?Struck dumb in their agony;
The rage of a foaming torrent,?After the bursting cloud?Has poured its liquid fury?In destruction wild and loud;
Are but the potent protests?Of Nature's elements?Against some ill arrangement?That brings them discontents.
But these in separate actions,?Or in forces all combined,?Leave not so sad a ruin?As the wreck of one human mind.
The voice, the eye, and the manner?Are all unlocked by a key?That has for its great attraction?A confiding sympathy.
The knowledge of books is essential?To those who youth would guide,?But the grace of earnest endeavor?Excels all else beside.
Truth in its plainness is beauty,?Science itself is a charm,?But the frown of a tyrant tutor?Puts both in constant alarm.
To receive a healthful impression,?Mind must be free from fear,?Will must be held by attraction,?Soul, by a soul sincere.
MIRRORS.
Some persons in mind are but mirrors?Reflecting what others have thought,?That make no original errors,?They are only able to quote.?You may ask their opinion on matters?That pertain to affairs of the day,?Their minds are but shreds and tatters?Of what all their neighbors say.
We respect the man who is careful?With others his mind to compare,?But who of himself is not fearful?His honest opinion to share?With men, when some public measure?Upon the State has been thrown,--?Who proves his mind a rich treasure?He uses and calls his own.
MANY.
Many a grand ambition?Had birth and died in a day,?From lack of vigorous nursing?To keep it from decay.
Many a hope has faded?And sunk in deepest despair,?Through lack of careful pruning?That fruitage it might bear.
Many a mind is ruined?And becomes chaotic mass,?Through want of systematic?Training in the class.
Many a song of sweetness?Has lost its harmony,?Because at its beginning?It had not the proper key.
Many a field most fertile?Bears vile and noxious weeds,?Through failure of the tiller?To sow some worthy seeds.
Many a flower of beauty?And sweetness blooms