Our Profession and Other Poems | Page 6

unseen,?And dies in its seclusion?On a bed of mossy green.
Better to have no talent,?No excellence to give,?Than permit vice to destroy?The talent we may have.

No dam can restrain the water?When leaks receive no care,?When the tempest in wild fury?Doth chafe and gnaw and tear,?And no hand is raised to succor,?No effort to repair,?Till the torrent bursts in fury?And fills us with despair.?'Tis too late then for repining,?Too late, for work or prayer.
DUTY DONE.
A duty done is victory won,?E'en though in the doing,?Efforts may fail to bring avail?In lines we are pursuing.
Nothing is lost whate'er the cost,?When efforts made are noble,?Beyond the sky acts never die,?And honor's crown is double.
Right cannot fail, but must prevail,?If noble be the motive;?Heaven is nigher if we aspire?With hearts sincere and votive.
Much strength we gain when we maintain?A truth for truth's sake solely;?A mighty power guides effort's hour?And stamps its cause as holy.
If honest heart act well its part,?And ask the aid of heaven?Its feeblest word will be so heard?That succor will be given.
It matters not how low our lot?We rise by honest trial;?No effort made for needed aid?E'er met complete denial.
The soul expands when it demands?A right for self and others,?And darkest night has ray of light?For honest helpful brothers.
A noble soul spurns the control?Would bind in servile fetters;?No chains can bind God-given mind?Inspired by love and letters.
An earnest will can ne'er be still?Though oft its hopes be baffled,?It will succeed though victims bleed?And die upon the scaffold.
Loud shout and sing, "Crown Effort King,"?And let the watchword be?This earnest prayer heard everywhere,?"God and Humanity."
A duty done is victory won,?For strength comes by the doing;?There's no retreat, there's no defeat,?If right we are pursuing.
THE SENSES.
THE EYE.
Some eyes are trained to scan large field?Till instantaneous glance may yield?A knowledge full and plenty;?While others keep a narrow ken?And view the ways of active men?With satisfaction scanty.
The optic nerve has power so keen,?That ev'ry object by it seen?Is stamped upon the brain;?But they of sluggish mental mold?No vivid photograph will hold,?And scarce a scene retain.
THE EAR
The tympanum with perfect drum?Hears not the sound when armies come?With clarion notes and song,?Unless its stimulated nerve?Has fully learned to humbly serve?In stations which belong
To those which God designed should live?For special duties, He might give?To move mankind along?Upon the road toward perfect man,?That He might thus reveal His plan,?And happiness prolong.
THE TONGUE.
The power that lies in perfect speech?Dwells with the few who only reach?That art through toil and care;?A faulty tongue perverts the ear,?Destroys the sense, augments the fear,?And feeds on empty air.
A nation's destinies have hung?Upon the influence of a tongue?Whose magic eloquence?Has swayed the thoughts of men, whose word?Was mightier than the glittering sword?Of armies most immense.
THE HAND.
The manual touch when guided by?The magic power of sympathy?That animates the soul,?May lead to fields of cultured art?And cast an influence on the heart?May through all ages roll.
The canvass and the stone may speak?To more than Roman and to Greek?Though in a foreign land;?They show the might of cultured skill?Directed by an iron will?That guides a master's hand.
THE NOSE.
The perfumed fields of blooming May,?The evening scent of new-mown hay?Touch nerve olfactory,?And carry to the thoughtful brain?Loved memories of a long-past train?That once was full of glee.
Though flowers to-day are choice and rare,?In colors they may well compare?With richest hues we meet;?They lack the charm that gave them power?Since past is youth's entrancing hour?Their fragrance seems less sweet.
COMBINED INFLUENCE.
Five roads lead to the human brain?And through these roads all must obtain?The commerce of all lore;?No thought can enter mental port?Of any kind or any sort,?Of modern days or yore,
Except such as a tariff pays?To pass these honored, great highways?Which lead to eminence,?And follow closely every nerve?Which God designed should truly serve?Each mind of consequence.

Perhaps that star in yonder sky,?May be my dwelling place on high,?When life on earth is done;?At eventide I love to gaze?Upon its soft reflected rays,?When silent and alone.
Its brightness charms and draws my soul,?By some mysterious, strong control?I cannot well explain,?Unless it be within it dwell?The friends of earth I loved so well,?Who could not here remain.
SOUL SPEAKS TO SOUL.
Soul speaks to soul, eye speaks to eye,?And mind by mind is read;?The heart bounds in sweet ecstasy?Whene'er a light is shed,?That shines to illume a cherished thought?That seemed to dwell alone,?But on through years has nobly sought?To solve some truth unknown.
The living truth that seemeth dead,?Needs but a kindred touch?To resurrect thought's vital thread,?And give it influence, such?As breaks the bands of fettered mind,?And sunders thraldom's chains,?Spreads benefactions, pure, refined,?Where ignorance now reigns.
Magnetic touch of spark divine,?Speak to the inert soul,?Let light from out the darkness shine,?And truth her page unroll;?Speak to the minds that waiting, starve,?And give them power to see,?That he who patiently will serve?Shall win the victory.
OUR BATTLEFIELD.
[Written for an entertainment given by the Fife